Can't beat a Fieldfare

Fieldfare is possibly my favourite thrush, though Siberian is a close call. Unfortunately most of those turn out to be either fictional or recently-purchased. The Fieldfares on Wanstead Flats however are very real and entirely wild. Despite my sterling efforts in reuniting ex-dogs with their sad owners, Nick is still far more compassionate than I am, and when the snow started he went around and plonked a few apples on a couple of Hawthorns near the viz-mig point to help the birds get through it. These were found pretty much instantaneously, and so far these treats (along with coconut and oats) have been enjoyed by not only Fieldfare, but also by Jay, Blue Tit, Great Tit, Song Thrush, Dunnock, Robin, Blackbird and Waxwing). Hawthorns are fairly tangled affairs, so getting a clean perch is verging on the impossible, but I spent a happy half hour there this lunchtime. Mainly this was to get out of the House of Vomit I currently reside in, I figure I can't catch it if I'm stood ankle-deep in snow in the middle of the Flats. All too soon it was time to get back to the day job though, and to once again run the gauntlet of extreme bacterial infection. So far I've not succumbed, thanks largely I feel to large and regular dosages of cask strength Caol Ila. I'm a big believer in preventative medicine...