I discovered the other day what kind of crows are nesting in the eaves nearby, just along from where I've been writing my novel. No longer too obsessed with my novel to do more than glance up at them whizzing past my window, I was able to hang about and stare and take photos and identify them. And would you believe it, they are jackdaws, real-life counterparts of the jackdaw and jackdaw's nest with young that feature in the novel I've been writing. I should have known what they were, really: of the crows, jackdaws most often nest in holes, and through my fug of concentration, I realised in retrospect, I was hearing the characteristic jack of their call even as I was writing it into the novel.
When I went out to take these photos, I could hear the cries of the babies in the nest, which were already taking on that mature sound. I'm in Wales now - editing the novel - and I guess that by the time I get back they'll have flown.
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