Every morning, before breakfast, I shuffle to my garden shed to feed the wild birds in my garden. The first to arrive is Jacques, the Robin, who flutters in front of me like an inebriated humming bird, demanding access to perch upon my hand and pick through the tit-bits I have for him. Then, as I emerge fully, and begin to place the food upon the various feeders in my quince tree, the resident crow starts calling to the other birds from my roof – announcing that breakfast is served…
Why it has taken on this role, I have no idea: but the pigeons and jackdaws seem particularly pleased that it has.
Tooty Nolan: Languishing Somewhere Between Clever and Stupid 