The countryside in April
Sarah Ryan is growing eager to venture outdoors and make the most of the warmer, lighter days of the season
“There is a silent eloquence In every wild bluebell That fills my softened heart with bliss That words could never tell” anne Brontë, ‘ The Bluebell’
Early spring has a lingering sleepiness, like a reluctance to get out of bed in the morning, but this changes in April. The clocks have just gone forward, and though the days are shorter, there is so much more light. It is the seasonal equivalent of someone flinging the curtains wide open. Time to move. At this time of year, I get fidgety, start planning longer walks and allow my eye to be consistently drawn to the window. Outside, creatures, birds, leaves and flowers are stirred by warmth and light. Bird call clamouring from the trees has been getting louder and more complex by the day. The distinctive chirrup of the chiffchaff, which gives the bird its name, is one of the first to be heard, but the ruckus is rich by now. The dawn chorus has begun. As light creeps into the sky, the earliest birds begin to sing in a determined effort to maintain territory and secure the attentions of a mate. The robin’s cheerful, confident song, the song thrush’s more urgently repeated call and the blackbird’s familiar melody are heard earliest. Tits, warblers and wrens join later. As the season progresses and more summer migrants return, the cacophony becomes ever more intricate. It is worth a morning walk to appreciate. Boots stand ready by the door, and I have the immediate urge to pull them on and head outside.
Woodland sights
At home, in the East of England, there are few hills, but there are fens, lakes and ancient woodland. Many of the woodland fragments nearby are carpeted in bluebells. The sight is irresistible and the smell intoxicating. Approximately half the world’s bluebells grow in the UK, making this all the more precious. I stand at the shore of an indigo tide and gaze in. Amid the blue are occasional clutches of pale primroses. There are other flowers I would love to see. The chequered snake’s head fritillary was once abundant in meadows across England, but is now quite rare. I’ll be keeping an eye out for its boxy, drooping head. Early orchids might also start to appear. The vibrant purple pasqueflower, with buttery yellow stamen, is a striking but rare sight,
found in chalk and limestone grasslands. According to legend, it appears on the site of Viking graves, growing from the blood of past warriors. Catkins are another sign of the season. Those of the alder are long and rubbery, marked with a lattice of rust-red. Grey willow’s velvety nubs are much smaller and cling resolutely to thin twigs.
Taking flight
Though generally less celebrated, the appearance of insects drifting above the muddy lake shore near home is imperative to many species. Swallows, newly returned from South Africa, will consume hundreds of thousands. On their transcontinental migration, the birds will have flown approximately 200 miles a day; and still their movements are almost too quick to follow. They vanish as soon as they catch the eye, a fleeting dash of blue swooping over the field, snipping up invertebrates and sipping water on the wing. Slower, but just as graceful, is a red kite, seen overhead adjusting its flight with precise tilts of its forked tail. All life seems to be energised by the sun’s increasing warmth and light. By next month, things will be different again.
“When April scatters charms of primrose gold Among the copper leaves in thickets old, And singing skylarks from the meadows rise, To twinkle like black stars in sunny skies” William Henry Davies, ‘April’s Charms’