This is my garden nag. He waits for me to deliver his meals and lets me know in no uncertain terms when I'm late - ten inches of pure displeasure and a definite sniff, a bit like Carson in Downton Abbey. But he will now swoop down for food before I've even let go of the feeder and he seems to tell his more nervous mate that I'm not a threat because he chirps at her rather than warns. They're nesting in a neighbouring garden and I gather from the children in that house that there are babies already; I hope he'll bring the family round for tea when they're ready.
Take a bow, Mr Blackbird: