Bright green parakeets in the frozen morning

I've a dog now, a white West Highland Terrier pup called Archie. And Archie has me up early on these dark freezing mornings and into the park.
There are few people around and the birds are still coddled down before sun-up. 4 herons stand, statues in their stillness, on the frosty grass; swans huddle together in white. The pond itself is mostly ice but there is a circle of open water near its centre and there the mallards, tufted ducks, coots and gulls rouse and fuss and settle. No one is really up yet. Archie tik tak tik taks beside me at my feet.
In the bare branches of a tree perch exotic parakeets roost. They are an escaped species that have moved north and I wonder if this is the furthest north they've reached. Glasgow winters must be tough, but they are fed well by the bird lovers here.
One guy I see every morning with a plastic bag full of food. The herons know him and break their stances quickly, because he brings them fresh fish. He feeds the other birds nuts and seeds. We have a chat about his need for another replacement knee that he really feels on these freezing mornings. He gives Archie a wee ruffle and Archie licks away at the smell of food on his fingers.
I bid him a good day and head home. On my way home Jackdaws - hundreds upon hundreds of them - fly overhead punctuating the rising blush of the morning in a kaleidescope of black scattered and stretched across the sky clacking away to one another, off for their daily bread. As I, with Archie, head home to get ready for mine.