Dear reader...

IHEARD MY FIRST nightingale sing in May two years ago. Standing in a wood a few miles from our Cambridgeshire offices in the late evening, listening to the liquid notes, I was entranced. All around was still and quiet, as if the other woodland creatures were as mesmerised as I was. Nearly all birdsong is beautiful, but there is something special about the nightingale’s virtuoso performance. There is only a brief window, from May to early June, in which to hear this rich run of trills and repeated phrases. Last year the weather stopped me getting back to the wood. This year I am determined to go again, to once again stand under the trees and marvel. Closer to home, the birdsong in my garden is now underscored by a loud buzzing baritone as the bumblebees make their seemingly unhurried way from flower to flower. I recently found one of these magnificent creatures lying on the floor of my sunroom. Clearly exhausted from its attempts to find its way out, the only indication it was alive was a single leg moving slowly. Sliding a sheet of paper under it I was able to take it outside, to a raised surface near some flowers in bloom. Then I quickly dissolved a little sugar in a spoonful of water and put it down in front of the bee. It immediately dropped its proboscis into the liquid and started to drink. Ten minutes later there was a loud buzz and the bee was on its way, heading towards the flowers. With pollen sacks full, it then flew away, presumably to the colony’s nest. A satisfying conclusion to my rescue mission.