Each year the young house sparrows born in our roof and those of neighbours, form themselves into a flock each evening to spend the night roosting in the Boston Ivy on our gable.
Their excited chattering as they arrive can be quite deafening through the wall!
Standing on the pavement below you can hear all their racket only feet above your head but, try as you might, it is impossible to spot even one of the 30 or so sparrows under those big rain-proof leafs.
However, autumn sees the ivy become deeper and deeper red, before yellowing and finally thinning as more and more of its big colourful leaves fall to gather in drifts below.
So too does the sparrow flock thin, as birds seek out more permanent lodgings.
However, there are always a few brave or confused wee spuggies which doggedly persist until sparrows outnumber leaves.
My picture shows the scene as October turned to November.
The very last leaf was long gone and still a trio of spugs clung onto the bare skeleton of their former snug dormitory!
It is a comic drama that repeats itself every autumn, as sure as the wild geese stitch the skies and the felties roam the hedges.
I know a lot of modern folk would hate the thought of ivy climbing their harling or leaves blowing everywhere, far less spuggies chattering through the wall.
However, Nature needs a home and we have to learn to share.
And anyway, what’s not to love about spuggies?