The fact that today, the sun's shining reminds me only of how little we've seen for so long. It's not brilliant sun but this clouded, muted version is quite enough for me. It doesn't make only me feel more energetic- Ziki seems brighter too. He appears to be interested in the weather (as well he might be) and seems particularly responsive to changes-he began a morning of astonishing loud cawing one morning when it snowed heavily. He calls only in the morning but his vocal range has expanded over the past couple of weeks. Wonderfully, he makes 'practice' sounds in his throat, mellifluous, growling, trilling, speculative sorts of sounds, before breaking into loud caws. We try to respond, with either words or 'caws'-he seems to enjoy response but won't allow himself to be encouraged into sound. I don't know why he calls only in the morning. The other question which interests me is how he learned to speak crow. He was very young when he was precipitated from his nest-or whatever it was that befell him-and I don't know if he'd have had time to learn, which corvids have to do. He must have done-there's only a short time when birds can learn their song. His range of sound is wide and he seems to be developing it every day. I have bought a voice recorder and will try to put some sounds on the blog, if I can work out how to do it.

In the meantime, Chicken has begun dish-rattling, the usual forerunner to nesting. There's been a mild bit of displaying but no newspaper tearing yet. Outside, the birds have been getting busy for a while now. I was giving a talk last night and a lady who lives near a wood in Deeside told me that's she's being woken by the noise of nesting corvids. She doesn't find the sound pleasant. Listening to Zik in full voice as I write does encourage me to a certain sympathy, I must say. 

An article of mine on the subject of Donald Trump's proposal to build a golf course over a 'Site of Special Scientific Interest'-a series of shifting sand dunes on the Aberdeenshire coast, is now on the web-site of the excellent American magazine n+1. 

 

There's a terrific amount of experimental cawing in progress-today, is clearly the day for practising short caws. I am responding in what I like to think is appropriate fashion. No more the silent little crow!

First, I was wrong about the snow. It didn't happen. A lot of huge hailstones did, a feeble effort at snow and lots of rain. Today is wet and dark and utterly cheerless. 

As if responding to what I wrote just yesterday, Ziki has been shouting this morning, loudly, trilling and gargling and sounding reassuringly crow. He seems delighted by the sounds ( which I've tried to record on my phone) but has now turned his attention to brisk cleaning, and clearly, cleaning and shouting are not simultaneous activities.

It's a bit dark to clean the doves but clean them I must. I shall don the warm layers and wellies and do it, soon. 

 I've been thinking, since his death, about John Updike's story 'Pigeon Feathers', a story of a boy's realisation of mortality. Updike was a wonderful writer, a turner of sentences as polished, as easy and perfect and admirable as any ever written. I liked his short stories particularly-when there was an Updike story in my new copy of 'The New Yorker' I'd put off reading it, savouring the pleasure of the anticipation of the sparks of recognition,  the unique truth of so much of what he wrote of the nature of living.  When I wanted to quote a few words of his poetry in 'Corvus' I sought permission to do so, applying to the appropriate Harvard library which holds the right to his works. I was told to write to him, that 'Mr Updike doesn't do e-mail.' I did write, but heard nothing-he had things on his mind more important than a pile of minor requests such as mine-but I found the very insignificant thread of contact thrilling, the only way I'd express admiration, or perhaps thanks. 

The snow which has engulfed London, bringing-according to the radio- all public transport to a halt, has just begun here in Aberdeenshire.(There has been plenty of snow in the hills but less down here at sea-level. Driving through Glenshee the other day, I was surrounded by snow, and by skiers.   In a way, I quite relish the feeling of being shut in by snow, as long as it doesn't lie for more than a few days. The birds definitely notice that there's something different, I think from the changes in the light. Bardie the cockatiel seems to enjoy a changed view from the window and  becomes even more vocal than usual. Ziki  too peers out with what appears to be interest, or indeed wonder. I check and fill the bird-feeders in the garden and remove the crust of ice on the doves' outside bath to give the wild birds access to water.

It has taken me a long time to catch up with paperwork and all the  post-Christmas detritus and while I've been planning on writing something more about Ziki,the intention has been pushed constantly to the end of my list of necessary things, until now when I've finished an article I had to write, been to speak at the delightful Pitlochry Book Festival in Perthshire and caught up with replying to a heap of letters and accumulation of e-mails.

Ziki has grown and is now a good-sized, healthy looking crow. His malformed foot is, I think, the way it will always be now although it doesn't seem to impede his walking. He flies a little but shows no great inclination to do so-his wings aren't clipped because I still don't handle him. He's now never shut into his house-I used to close him in at night to prevent him from taking fright and hurting himself, but now, he's only enclosed for the brief times when I have to open the back door to take out ash from the stove or  to go into the garden to let the doves out.  Whenever he is, he rings the bells I have hung from the roof of his house, to alert me to the fact that I'm imposing on his freedom. I've tried many ways of asking him to go into his house, saying it when he can't see me, altering the words I use and he appears to understand on each occasion. It's probably the tone I use. I think he's incredibly clever but then I would.

Every night, I suggest to him that he might like to perch on his branch to settle down for sleep and obediently enough he does, waiting only for me to switch out his light and close the door before he hops out to perch on top of his house for the night. 

Ziki seems to me to be a much busier bird than he was. He's much less anxious now and has begun to play with toys which once seemed to scare him, in particular the knotted rope toy designed for parrots which I gave him in the erroneous belief that it might stop him from removing fibres from the door mat. (The door mat is by now, a thin shadow of its former self, a gridwork of strands.) He has, in addition to his rope toy, his Dora the Explorer clock, a tub of sundry plastic balls and bird toys and a small flowerpot full of small, smooth-edged pieces of coloured stones, quartz and sea-glass which he likes to lay out in rows on the work-top.

 

The greatest change in him though, is in his voice. He still doesn't say much but has developed the habit of shouting one loud crow shout every morning at around quarter to ten-why he does this, I have no idea. I've heard  him practising sounds too, little growling and trilling sounds in his throat. I don't know what they mean or if they are a prelude to further development but we're not in a hurry, either of us. He reacts with more determination now to music, and as with Chicken, he seems to have developed dislikes as well as likes-the former being mostly non-choral music, the latter still opera and early music.  I may well be wrong be he doesn't seem to think much of the Beethoven String Quarter playing as I write. I'll have to watch him closely to see if I can determine his tastes any further.

 Chicken still regards him with a mixture of fascination and annoyance and I still keep the two of them apart (by means of a barrier of wire garden trellis placed in the doorway) which means that they can see one another and communicate should they wish to, but can't inflict any damage. 

Ah-I was wrong about the snow. It has stopped. It will start again though, I have no doubt.