Features Editor Miles walked this month: 87
I love walking at dusk, particularly in woodland. As the sun fades and the leafy world darkens the forest feels wilder, as if returning to itself and no longer part of a world dominated by humans. I don’t normally see another soul up there, but in the last few weeks I’ve met a steady stream. Mostly they’re standing still, head tilted, expression intense. We’re all listening for the nightingale, recently back from Africa. Sadly, they’ve not returned as usual to the neighbouring woodland, and there’s a notice there pointing listeners to this one. We glide silently around the paths, ears open for the little bird with the huge song. At first, it seems to have stage fright, but then it opens up with a vibrato like a jackhammer, with rich whistles, and an elastic sort of whoop – just a smattering of its vast repertoire. Hearing it is clearly an annual ritual for many, a sound that says spring is here. Note to self: Return tomorrow and the next day! This is a fleeting wonder.