KING SINGER

Wrens pack an incredible amount of punch into their ubiquitous, loud, explosive, lightning-fast trilled songs It is worth remembering that this congregation of songsters engaged in chorus to attract a mate and protect a territory have travelled far and wide to arrive at this scene. A huge variety of songsters including the ever captivating Redstart, whose ditty mirrors its restless demeanor, have journeyed thousands of miles from sub-saharan Africa and faced many dangers for a chance to breed. The means of navigating these huge distances are still being discovered by science – latest theories suggest birds use a combination of the earth’s magnetic field, visual landscape markers and the sun and stars. Nevertheless, as a fellow inhabitant on this vast blue marble, I cannot help admiring the will and resilience these animals embody to survive, consequently providing us with this aural delight among our parks, gardens and woodlands at this time of year. As an aeroplane passes overhead, I am aware the atmosphere on the ground is now alive with birdsong. Cascading notes of Chaffinches, Goldfinches, Garden Warblers, Song Thrushes and Robins fall from the trees set against a backdrop of cooing of Woodpigeons. Morning light now bathes the fields and coppices in daffodil-gold sunshine as I start my return walk back home and a Wren’s jubilant song from a nearby Blackthorn bush completes the woodland symphony. As birdwatchers, we spend most of our time preoccupied with a bird’s shape, form, size and plumage. “Did you see much?” I am sure is a familiar inquiry for many. The visual realm is the nexus of our hobby and yet, recounting this dawn chorus experience, not once did I feel compelled to raise my binoculars to my eyes to confirm what my ears had already registered. For some of us, the aural world is the only reference and guide for the wildlife around us. Blind and visually impaired birders are growing in number, as more people are drawn to the many benefits this pastime provides. No more so than in America, where local groups are cropping up all over the country inviting teenagers, parents and children to start ‘birding by ear’. Members grow accustomed to the bird’s song and call in the classroom and then venture out into the wild for walks, hikes and bird counts. Donna Posont, who leads a team of Michigan blind birdwatchers and is somewhat of a pioneer in this field, says most of her enjoyment is: “Watching the kids gain confidence and selfesteem with smiles on their faces, seeing themselves as birders, the same as everyone else.” Catching a few final notes before I depart this theatre of song, it strikes me that the dawn chorus, while hinting at a species, an individual, a location, moreover connects us to a more potent force, a timeless quality – ephemeral freedom from the human condition. Gone are the worries of the day, our attention solely belonging to those precious few hours. Just as the partially-sighted birders find comfort in the sounds of the wild, I urge you this spring, in the words of Robert Llynd “to become part of the silence, to truly see the birds around you.” Blackbird, one of the first singers in the dawn chorus A Blackcap, adding a warble to the Blackbirds’ flute section