For the last few days we have rejoice in the sound of birdsong and been relieved that so many of our old friends have made it back from their winter quarters to boost the chorus of our native woodland dunnocks, robins and wrens.
Suddenly the hedges are full of willow warblers in their minor key and the excited, raspy call of sedge warblers who suddenly throw themselves into the air, showing off to the female of his choice. Now the reed warblers join in with their lower, more guarded song. Evolution has taught them to conceal their location and that of their nest. Now they are all singing to attract a mate, all with their own particular refrain.
As you can see, to make things more interesting (with the exception of the reed warbler) they do not usually call from their eponymous habitats!
Everywhere we go we listen for the Cuckoo — this year everywhere we go we hear him. We hear him calling from all around but he flies always behind the trees so we cannot see him. This morning the sun was shinning and at last we saw one, here he is shouting from the highest branch, before taking off to advertise himself to the females on the other side of his large territory.
We heard a female cuckoo’s call back, said to sound like water going down a plug hole, to me it is more like the whinnying of a horse. She calls from cover while she stealthfully searches for the nests of any careless reed warbler or dunnock, who has given away her nest and left it unattended.
Down by the river we notice something swoop down and disappear into a hole — I stake it out with my camera. What is this?
A Blue Tit, nesting in a convenient rusty post.
One species is well ahead in the breeding stakes —
dianaashworth 