I’m walking along the southern side of the copse that is the focal point of my patch. It’s an hour or so after dawn and the bird song is a tapestry of interwoven sounds, almost overwhelming. Here at the end of April the leaves are starting to fill in the gaps between the branches, so it is getting harder to spot the birds that favour this habitat.
Thick with dew, the grass clings to my boots. From the top of a nearby fence post a Wren gives voice to its larger than life song. Away to my left I can hear the tumbling song of a Chaffinch, and the repeated phrases of a Song Thrush. I come to a stop; I am not sure if it is my imagination or not, but in amongst all the other songs and calls I am sure I caught a snippet of something else. Something scratchy; a sound that doesn’t quite fit with the familiar songs that I can hear. I listen for a minute, but failing to hear it again, I resume walking.
I’ve not gone much further and there it is again , I am certain of it. I stop a second time and wait. This time I get the payoff – there is a slight lull from the other birds, enough for me to clearly pick out the short-phrased song. That of a bird I have not heard here before; the Whitethroat. Up until a few years ago I used to see them in the hedgerows around the lanes near our home, so it’s a delight to see one again in the area.
It is somewhere in the brambles just beyond the copse boundary . I use my binoculars to scan the area from where the sound is coming from but I can’t pick it out, despite their propensity for perching in full view on the tops of vegetation. I could spend more time looking for it, but my attention is drawn away by the burbling call of a Blackcap in the bushes beside me. Or at least, that is what I initially think it is.
Two aspects to warbler’s behaviour – that they don’t stay still for long, and often spend much of their time in the middle of shrubs or undergrowth – along with their often indistinguishable appearance make them difficult to identify. This one is being true to form; I can hear it clearly, and I can see movement, but any brief view I get is partially obscured and too dark to see any colour. Moving to another vantage point I watch again. This time I am rewarded, as the bird moves to the outer branches. What I see is a small brown warbler – brown all over, so definitely not a Blackcap. This then is a Garden Warbler. And for the second time today, a first for my patch, and for the 12 months or so that I have been coming here now, the fifth species of warbler.
Distinguishing between the song of the Blackcap and the Garden Warbler is a noted challenge of birding 1. I certainly lack the expertise, and can only say with confidence that I have heard the song of a Garden Warbler once, as I saw the bird in question clearly enough to identify it. On this occasion I am able to observe and listen to one at close quarters for fifteen minutes or more – perhaps the biggest difference I can hear is that once it gets going it just keeps on going! I don’t know, but I hope that this means I will be that bit better at telling the difference in the future.
A fortnight later I am in the copse again. It’s the middle of May and the difference in the leaf coverage on the trees is so much more noticeable. The undergrowth is now verdant, a mass of grass, nettles and cow parsley. The flowers of the Blackthorn and Wild Cherry have been superseded by those of the Hawthorn and Wayfaring Tree. Any vestige of winter is long gone, and the paths around the copse feel more closed in and secret.
I want to see if there is any sign of either the Whitethroat or Garden Warbler this time. Of the latter – not a thing. Does this mean that it was simply passing through when I saw it? I would like to think that it is here for the summer. Perhaps I will hear it again on another visit. It is quite a bit colder than on my previous visit and the birds are less active, so maybe it is just not giving itself away. However, what I do hear is the Whitethroat, and this time I am able to spot it. It is in the same location as on my last visit, using several different perches from which to sing, and every now and then it gives its display flight.
After a time I realise that I can hear not one but two Whitethroats. A scan in the direction from where I can hear the second reveals one perching on top of an Elderberry bush, not more than fifty metres from the first. Do either of these have a mate? Are they nesting or just holding territories? Regardless, it is good to see the reappearance of Whitethroats – I hope this signals a change in the fortunes for the species in our area.
Usually on my visits to the copse I am taking an overview of the birds I can see or hear, but on these last two visits I’ve found myself drawn into watching just one or two individual birds. As I get to know the copse and its residents better, perhaps this is a natural evolution; delving deeper into the lives of these birds. Walking back home, thinking about the those I have seen, and the ones I haven’t, my mind is filled with more questions than answers. This is the pull of birding – the more you learn about birds and their behaviour, the more you realise how much there is to be learnt.