As I waited on the bench outside our house for Dean to get his shoes on and find the car keys the air was already thick with birdsong. We probably should have just stayed there to welcome the dawn but we’d already decided to go up to Blake Dean, to the clearing high up in the wood with the soft enveloping green grass. We'd been there on May day evening and agreed it would be a good place to listen to the dawn chorus.
We wound the car windows right down and as we zipped along the empty roads the sounds of every wren, blackbird and song thrush between our house and Heptonstall cut in above the engine noise and came into the car with us. It was exciting.
As we pulled into the layby a pheasant greeted us with his klaxon, dogs were howling like wolves from a nearby farm and there were sheep. It was a different soundscape up here. With no time to lose we headed down the steps through the heather taking in the burbling river far below us and then along the top path into the trees. It was already quite light and a bit quiet on the bird front and we immediately knew we’d missed the peak of the morning song. But never mind. We were here now and it was lovely.
The grass in the clearing looked so soft and so green. It covered the woodland floor and all its little mounds and hillocks and it tucked itself in so close around fallen tree trunks and rocks, like a cosy duvet. We saw the fluffy white tail of a rabbit nipping out of sight. Tall, thin silver birches grew out of this green carpet and my eyes followed their shiny trunks up and into the brightening sky.
Dean lay down in the grass with his head on a small mossy tree trunk. I did the same. It was rare for it to be as dry as this on the ground so it was good to make the most of it. And relax. We’d made it. It wasn’t easy getting out of our cosy bed at twenty past four and I needed more sleep but I thought about all of the other international dawn chorus day adventurers who had also set their alarms early. I liked that we were all in it together.
It was pleasant looking into the canopy of new birch leaves but I closed my eyes to listen to the birds and my attention seemed to turn up their volume. The wrens were constant. Small birds, big song and they didn’t seem to pause for breath in between. Robin. I once heard their song described as ‘silvery’ and it is such a good word for it. Cool, shiny, reflective, soft like moonlight. And there were willow warblers. I saw my first one this week (and took these pictures) so it was lovely to have their warble in the mix. A distant blackbird. A different tune than ‘our’ blackbird at home, still utterly lovely. Song thrush. There had to be. They love a good tune. And above the sounds of all these woodland birds came the enchanting, flutey warble of the curlew. Wow. We don’t hear those in our home dawn chorus so this was a treat. I always feel better after hearing their call. It seems to get right inside me and soften all the edges.
Willow warbler at Blake Dean
I love imagining a huge wave of song as the birds respond to the rising sun wherever they are. From John O’Groats to Lands End there is about a 45 minute difference in the time of the sunrise, so our wave of song must take this long from north to south. It’ll be the blackbirds and thrushes first about an hour before sunrise because, as I just learned in Sean Ronayne’s book Nature Boy these birds have bigger eyes so can see better in the dark. The smaller birds will pipe up a little later which is why the chorus reaches a peak about half an hour before the sun comes up. When it’s still a little dark they are less at risk from predators and it’s not so easy to look for food so they might as well SING! They put their heart and soul into it. They are saying “I am still here, I survived the night, this is still my territory, look how fit and healthy I am, can you hear how loud I can sing?” Sound travels further when the air is cooler first thing in the morning so it’s even easier for them to get their point across.
After a while we made our way out of the woods and back up the steep steps, stopping half way to get our breath back and to look at the big clouds whose undersides were lit pink and orange by the coming sun. The pheasant had found a lady friend and we said goodbye to them as we got back in the car and set off back up the quiet road. As we drove along the sky got brighter and the sun got higher and we knew that any second it would break over the horizon so we parked up and got out to greet the new day.
Hello sun!
It was dazzling. It illuminated the yellow gorse, shone through the young bilberry bushes and lit up our faces in gold. Skylarks were greeting the sun too with their cracking electrical sounding call. ‘Techno’ as Dean put it.
We were home by 6.30, back to ‘our’ blackbird and song thrush whose melodies came in through the bedroom window as we got back under the covers and drifted off to sleep.
The rest of the day was filled with a dreamlike memory of our morning adventure. Did that really happen? There’s so much going on out there as we sleep. It’s good to go and get amongst it once in a while. International dawn chorus day is a good day to do just that.
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I mentioned Sean Ronayne's book Nature Boy and I bought it after being inspired by his lovely documentary called Birdsong on BBC IPlayer. It's about his mission to record every bird singing in Ireland. This guy is so passionate about birds and it's infectious.
International dawn chorus day falls on the first Sunday in May. It's become a tradition to get out to listen. We are always glad we did. But if you missed it, it doesn't matter, the birds will still be singing their hearts out every morning for another couple of months yet.
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