The sun tried to come out here today. Because of the influence of the nearby cool sea, it wasn’t quite as balmy as I believe many of you had inland, and there was only a vague luke-warmness coming through. But, with only a light wind, it was certainly pleasant to get out at lunchtime and indulge in some wildlife observation in the local public gardens.

In terms of insects, very little was on the wing. Some housefly-type flies were lapping merrily on the nectar pads in the green mouths of Euphorbia characias, and some tiny, green, flying insects barely a millimetre long (beyond my current identification skills) were nipping around a Viburnum tinus.

There wasn’t much birdsong either, even though it felt like singing weather. But one species that was exercising its vocal chords (or rather syrinx) was this Dunnock (left), perched about six feet up in a twiggy bush. ‘Dibbly-dibbly, dibbly-dibbly’ (it’s very difficult to express birdsong in words!). And then off it would whizz at waist height and dart into the undergrowth.

Which is where the fossicking comes in. It is a word I came to only recently thanks to a friend with a taste for fossicking, but it so superbly describes the kind of scuffling and noseying and pootling that Dunnocks do through the shady bases of bushes as they hunt out insects and small seeds.

But the extra delight today was watching this Dunnock get excited. On meeting a rival, his little wings were waved around like demonic semaphore. It is one of the Dunnock ways of expressing territoriality, to show that he is the alpha male. I’ve just managed to catch the end of one such wing flick in this photo (right).

Things to do in the garden for Dunnocks? Sunny shrubberies, lovely herbaceous borders, no chemicals, and some dense undisturbed undergrowth to nest in safe from cats, please. Then you can enjoy all the fossicking and semaphore you want!