Country Diary: Sandy, Bedfordshire

All in a row, the tall limes were sentry-still in the hour after dawn, until confrontation shook their drooping boughs; a sustained staccato exchange of "jack" and "chack" calls spoke of a dispute between close relations and confirmed enemies. The jackdaw was first to come to earth, landing then spreading out a wing, gappy like a broken-toothed comb. Two magpies dropped beside it, tails swishing in pleasing synchrony. But ballet turned to brutality when they lunged to jab at their grey-headed cousin. The beleaguered jackdaw gave a cawed whimper and after reeling a few steps backwards, flapped a retreat to the tip of a bare conifer branch. One of the magpies pursued, landing an intimidating wing's length away. The jackdaw, trapped on its gangplank end, raised a wing and began preening. The magpie swivelled its head and developed a fascination with its own rump. Magpie number two, which had flown higher into the same tree, resolved the standoff by dive-bombing the jackdaw, sending it tumbling then swooping up to a nearby rooftop, where it resumed its impromptu feather rearrangement. When a second jackdaw drifted over and landed beside it, the magpies appeared indecisive. One flew halfway up a sycamore, while its mate began a caged tiger walk up and down the grass verge in front of a crouching tabby cat, which eyed it, uncertain whether to pounce. At last, the magpies rose as one to the roof and jostled the jackdaws from their perch. As the long-tailed magpies chased the fleeing birds behind the limes it seemed like eviction by javelins. But now into the territorial void appeared a third jackdaw, a fourth and a fifth, milling around, strutting about, cawing loudly. I wondered: who were the bullies and who were the bullied?