There were well over a hundred Waxwings this morning. They were puffing their feathers up in the cold northerly breeze. As usual most of the time they sat trilling in the top of the ash tree occasionally descending in grateful flocks to feed on rowan berries, which are dwindling in number by the hour. As this food source is consumed I expect them to move on. I watched another twenty from the studio window this morning, flying around and eventually settling in the top of a birch tree.