The smart bird gets the mealworm: a back-garden drama

HAVE had an interest in birds all my life, stimulated by my paternal grandfather, who taught me how to recognise the garden species. This was followed by a professional career devoted to the care of birds for most of that time. Wherever I have lived, I have always encouraged birds to our gardens with feeding stations, and enjoyed watching them make use of the facilities. Having moved earlier this year (to northwest Kent), we set about doing the same again. Blue tits, great tits and the occasional coal tit appeared, then robins and