Spotted flycatchers take over my robin box
![Spotted flycatchers take over my robin box](https://sarahudston.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2021/07/young-spotted-flycatchers.jpg)
A bird twirls in midair and snatches an insect. Pale brown wing feathers fan against the light, tail spread to brake its onwards rush as its beak deftly tweezers a drifting midge. Then it flips downwards, diving into a nest hidden on the wall behind a cascade of pink roses.
Nothing has ever nested in our robin box, until now. I have put it in various places; on a hawthorn bush, by the woodpile and in an outbuilding, but robins seem to prefer their own choices. Last winter, out of whimsy, I hung it near the front door where a rose rambles.
In early June, I was amazed to see a bird inside, evidently brooding. Its head was elegantly striped, one line running horizontally from back to front, threading through the lustrous black bead of its eye. It was a spotted flycatcher, a species once common in UK parks and gardens. Numbers have plummeted by more than 89% over the last 40 years, propelling them on to the British Trust for Ornithology’s red list of conservation concern.
![](https://sarahudston.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2021/07/nestbox-in-roses-1024x620.jpg)
Spotted flycatchers are late migrants that generally appear long after swallows and swifts. They often reuse nests made by other species; the last time they bred in our garden they adapted an old chaffinch nest. An open-fronted robin box is ideal, providing a sheltered container for their hasty tangles of grass and moss.
‘Striped fly-seizers’
This pair quickly adopted strategic perching points around the edge of our lawn. There they waited, sitting in a characteristically upright posture, watching for prey. When they spied a suitable insect, they sallied forth and grabbed it – their Latin name, Muscicapa striata, roughly translates as “striped fly-seizer”. There seems to be plenty to eat here because they catch something every few minutes, returning to a perch and checking for danger before carrying the morsel back to their young.
A few days ago I took a stepladder, climbed the wall and peered cautiously inside the nest box. It was crammed with a gorgeous puffle of spotted feathers, which resolved into three gaping chicks, almost ready to leave. I hope they fledge safely and the parents raise a second brood before migrating in August.
![](https://sarahudston.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2021/07/nestbox-with-young-1024x768.jpg)
Originally published in The Guardian’s Country Diary column on 1 July 2021.