OUTSIDE of my daughter Bryony’s living room window is a nest box. Trailing from it is a wire that eventually leads into the back of her television so that she can, when it is possible, peer into the everyday goings on of a nest of blue tits.

Viewing of this nature is not guaranteed to be cosy domestic fare. Instead, murder, burglary, genocide, infanticide and theft are all guaranteed. If it were a film it would certainly be a horror movie.

Now at the start of this particular film noire, all is rainbows. The sky is blue. Sweet music plays as a pair of industrious young blue tits make a home for themselves and their future offspring in a conveniently discovered nest box outside of a large detached house in a quiet leafy road. How could anything possibly go wrong.

But then, creepy music now in background, a villain appears. An evil greater spotted woodpecker. The score ramps up to psycho intensity.

And it was the sound of this stabbing and jabbing of the woodpeckers beak on the outside of the nest box that alerted Bryony to the drama unfolding outside her window.

Quickly, Bryony switched on the bird viewing channel so that she was able to observe the actual, inside view of the intruding woodpecker, pile driving and destroying the entrance to the nest box. Cowering in the box, cheeping her distress, the blue tit tried to defend her home and chicks.

Banging on the window she managed to scare the woodpecker off for the moment. Score fades here to a gentle pianissimo. But not for long. That woodpecker had those chicks on their menu for lunch. The four chicks that had been successfully hatched from an original clutch of eight eggs.

The drama now unfolded to include the NHS. Chris, my consultant surgeon son-in-law, was about to perform a thumb joint replacement on a patient when his phone rang. A hysterical voice informed him of the mayhem outside his living room window.

Calmly Chris explained what she must do to prevent future onslaughts. Find some chicken wire to protect the outside of the nest. Ensure the blue tit could still gain entrance to the nest.

Thwarted, the woodpecker has abandoned his eggi-cide tricks. And as the credits of this particular film roll-up to the sound of sweet violin music, alls well in the blue tit world. For now............