Jacqueline P Vincent

Every year when the blueberries ripen, I battle the nesting blackbirds for the fruit. Their ripening coincides with fledging babies.
I have three bushes given to me by a friend for my 60th birthday. In a normal year, they produce enough to freeze and last through the winter. We like to eat them on wintry mornings mixed in with our hot porridge, as they are an excellent source of anti-oxidants, one of the super foods and help us oldies stay well.

I’ve only ever been able to grow blueberries in my current garden in Spain. And, they’re expensive to buy, especially if I want local ones.
Although, I’ve never been much of a gardener, as I don’t have the patience, my Blueberries grow well.
However, in the spirit of never giving up, this year, I’m trying the cut and come again method of gardening. A few lettuces, rocket, spicy leaves in pots on the balcony. They are doing really well and we have a few leaves each day. I’m keeping my fingers crossed for the tomatoes and French beans, which look sad but are sprouting flowers. But the radish, peppers, and melon are struggling. Overall, my blueberries have been a consistent success, except for the thieves.

The first year the blueberries were bounteous. I picked a large container every day for two weeks as they ripened and several kilos in one day from the main crop. ‘Coo’, I thought this was easy.
The following year, after watching the fruits ripen, I went out the first morning, about twelve, to pick the first ones. Nothing. But I was sure when I checked the previous evening there were enough almost ripe to pick. Then I noticed the stalks. Something had eaten them. Up in a branch high above me, a blackbird sang. How lovely, I thought, but who’s been eating my blueberries?
The following day, I went out earlier and picked a small container of ripe fruits. A creature hadn’t come during the night to eat the fruit, so it was a daytime thief.
This early morning pick carried on for two weeks. Then finally, the main crop ripened. I was so excited and went out in my slippers and pyjamas, with a large container to harvest the rest of the blueberries.

You’ve guessed it, they were gone, every single last one of them. They stripped the bushes, leaving only the stalks and a few unripened berries. Had a neighbour been in the night? No, they wouldn’t do that. Had the jabali, wild boar, taken a liking for berries? I could see immediately, no boars had been through. If they had, the ground would be rutted like a badly ploughed field. Then who could have taken all my fruits?
I looked up and Mrs blackbird and her babies sat on the branch above my head. No, surely not. They couldn’t have eaten that much in one morning.
There wasn’t anything I could do except return to the kitchen with an empty container. Blooming cross, I thought I’d stake out the bushes next year to see who or what was eating my blueberries. I mean, I don’t mind sharing, but taking the lot was a bit much.

Although I’d picked enough blueberries to last us until the end of February, by March, we had to raid the strawberry jam for something sweet to add to our porridge. It wasn’t the same. And to top it all, in March we both had awful colds. As I sat, sniffing, blowing and almost dying, I blamed the thief for stealing our anti-oxidant-rich crop of blueberries.
This year, I was determined the same thing wouldn’t happen, and we’d have enough for the entire winter.
One wet spring day I sat at my computer and googled ‘protect fruit from thieves’. The first option was fruit cages, but I found we don’t have enough bushes to warrant the expense. I searched for alternatives, and the only other option that came up was, nets. After freeing too many birds from our neighbours’ nets, I decided not to buy any. I couldn’t bear it if a bird died trying to escape.
Thwarted by my international searches, I hatched a cunning plan. I would get up at the crack of dawn every morning, whilst the berries were ripening, and see who the thief was.

June arrived and every morning, early, come rain, shine or thunder, I picked the daily amount of berries, left a few for the birds and froze the rest. Come main-crop day, I was out early and there she was, my thief, Mrs Blackbird with her three babies feasting on the ripe berries.
When she saw me she flew away, calling her babies, who followed up onto a branch above my head. They watched me pick. I felt guilty for taking food from her family’s mouth, so I picked about half the main-crop and left her the rest. Within minutes, the blackbird family returned and left me stalks.
In my heart, I believe we’ve come to a truce. She lets me pick my blueberries as long as I’m up before her. But in the knowledge if I have a lie-in, she’ll eat every single one.