There was a flock of eight Mistle Thrushes on Buck Hill. They must have been residents, as it is unlikely that migrants would arrive so early in the year.

They flew off in the direction of the rowan trees, and I followed them in the hope of a pretty shot of one eating berries, but in fact they stayed on the ground and searched for worms.

A Stock Dove had come down to the Long Water for a drink, and perched on the fallen horse chestnut tree.

There is a small colony of these in Kensington Gardens, but they tend to pass unnoticed as they look very like Feral Pigeons. The clearest point of difference is that they have dark eyes.

The Grey Heron that habitually perches on the deserted Coots' nest at Peter Pan was sitting down. I photographed it doing this a few days ago, but it was in long grass and you couldn't see how it folded its long legs. Now all is clear -- except why it should want to adopt this odd posture.

This is the youngest Greylag on the lake, hatched in the last week of May -- there was never more than one in this brood. Now it is almost grown up, and already flying.

The Great Crested Grebes at the northwest corner of the island have been in exactly the same place ever since they emerged with their chick. A nearby post with chains gives them shelter while the other parent fishes around the small boathouses.

The family at the other end of the island are more adventurous and can now be seen anywhere around the island. Here their father has just tipped them off his back and is giving his ruffled wings a good shake.

He will moult his flight feathers in the autumn, and indeed may not be able to fly at the moment because using his wings as a playpen makes a mess of them.

The male Little Owl was sheltering in the chestnut tree next to his nest tree, as a thunderstorm had just finished.