Richard Williamson's Country Life Column

Not everyone likes them, any more than they can put up with bats who also leave their cards, but with wildlife so diminished we should all try to forgive the infinitesimal inconveniences.

Somewhere out on the shallows of the Lavant, or more likely the edge of the gravel pits, these birds wade on their very short little legs into the muddy margins and scoop a beakful of mud, to be brought back to the eaves of number 59, where it is cemented onto the growing grey cup. Bit by bit the pea-sized bricks are radiated outwards and upwards, until a house as big as a breakfast cup holds them secure above the busy street.

From this lofty perch the paired birds can peep out through their porthole at the humans who toil below, their white chins gleaming, their gun-metal heads and wings a far deeper blue than the summer sky, more the dense blue of outer space or ocean depths.

Richard Williamson's Nature Trails appear every week in the West Sussex Gazette. You can read the full version of this column in September 1 issue.