“Nobody seems to try to talk to birds.”
I do. (well, with a name like Swift…) I can communicate with Rock Doves, I think they’re called, by cooing at them, and it drives them crazy and they sometimes dive bomb me with a screaming sound. Whether it’s aggression or sexual frenzy I’m not sure but it doesn’t matter as I’m not interested either way. It pleases me though as I hate them – they’re Saxon invaders that have only been in this country since the sixties and now they’re everywhere and the wood pigeons have declined. Also, they have an excremental sense of rhythm, and always leave off the final coo that would make their call at least acceptable.
If you’re very very very sad you can get a lot of innocent pleasure watching Pride and Prejudice and hearing them in the background, as you can get to say Tut a lot. Writing to the BBC about it using a purple felt tip is very heaven.