Sunset serenade

Sunday 1^st May was a lovely warm sunny day, the first really warm day this spring, after an April which was dogged by cold winds from the north or north east for much of the month. Perhaps the weather pattern is changing and an overdue warm spell is heading our way. I do hope so.

Two weeks earlier I had seen the sun rise and listened to the dawn chorus in Foal Hurst Wood nature reserve, but I had been waiting for the right opportunity to hear the birds as they serenaded the closing of the day and settled down to sleep. Although it was too cloudy to see the sun set on Sunday it was warm enough for me to sit still in the wood for 75 – 90 minutes and listen to the chorus of birdsong, as the light dwindled.

Sunset was forecast for 20.20 BST, with dusk forty minutes later at 20.58 BST, so I arrived at the wood at 20.00 hours, as the performers were tuning up for the main event. Walking through the wood to my chosen spot I heard blackbirds, robins & wrens singing loudly from the many trees throughout the wood. I am sure it was just my perception, but the songs seemed a little less rushed and gentler on the ear than the dawn chorus two weeks earlier. Perhaps in the early morning there is an excitement to proclaim the new day, whereas a more reflective mood takes hold in the evening.

Singing wren (Gardenbirds.co.uk website)

After around eight or nine minutes I settled down in my chosen spot, towards the south western area of the wood. I had picked this area as it was further way from the traffic noise of the nearby Badsell Road, which was rather persistent along the northern edge of the wood. Many of the trees had burst their leaves in the last week or so, but the tree canopy was still rather bear, and so was not able to completely muffle the noise of passing cars. I reflected upon how busy this part of the UK is these days!

Singing song thrush (RSPB website).

Listening to birdsong is a little like hearing an orchestra. Some of the performers are loud and sing as if they are they providing a rousing solo performance, the Song thrush – Tudus philomelus -  is one such performer. Every note and phrase repeated three times at full volume, which tends to drown out other performers.  But robins & wrens, small that they are, were not prepared to give up without a fight and sung as if their lives depended on it. The blackbirds’ song was a touch gentler, and more melodic than its nosier cousin, a sweeter tune to hear.  These four bird species provided much of the performance, but one of the joys of sitting quietly in a hidden spot is that the wildlife becomes more accustomed to your presence and the more timid orchestral  members started to play their part, as they serenade the setting sun. Birds like the blackcap & chiff chaff,  who have travelled far to joined the woodland orchestra, provide fine performances that Sunday evening.

A pair of long tailed tits chirped gently for a brief moment and I suspect they had a nest with young, neatly hidden amongst the honeysuckle, draped around some of the birch trees close by.

Four goldfinch flew overhead, twittering noisily as they are want to do. The ‘tinkling triangles’ of the percussion section of the orchestra, maybe.

Two wood pigeons, bassoon players from the woodwind section, cooed gently in the background for around five minutes, all the while the song thrushes solo performance continued to belt out from high above, in the branches of an ash tree.

Further away, behind me,  I heard a pheasant clucking and clattering and crows cawing loudly, sounding like the cymbal had accidentally been dropped in the orchestras pit !  But it was no accident, for a few minutes later a blackbirds alarm call sounded loudly and stridently from the same direction, followed by a wrens alarm rattle. Something was afoot, possibly a fox starting its evening patrol.

It was by now 20.30 and the sun had set. Looking above me, tiny gnats were busily circling my head, attracted by my body heat and the promise of a free blood meal, given half the chance! All I could do was reduced exposed flesh to a minimum and flail away like a windmill, in a hope of keeping them away. Whilst I was busily swatting the gnats, as if on cue, two Common Pipistrelle bats (Pipistrelles pipistrelles) appeared in the woodland clearing in front  of me. ” Hurray, a pair of gnat nibblers”  I proclaimed to no one in particular; my problem might be solved !

Pipistrelle bat in flight (Wikipedia)

For the next ten minutes, in addition to the birdsong, I was privileged to have my own aerial display right above me. Like two spitfire pilots, the bats engaged in their own aerial duel with clouds of midges and gnats higher in the canopy, bent on capturing the flying morsels and filling their tummies with much needed food.

Singing robin (Saga website)

By 20.45 the birdsong had noticeably reduced, as the approaching cloak of darkness started to descend across the wood.  A few wrens and robins continued to sing, but the song thrushes solo performance had by now come to an end. The last songster, a robin, continued until around 20.55, but two minutes later the night patrol began. Two tawny owls started calling to each other across the wood !

I hung around for the next ten minutes listening to the two owl’s intermittent  ’ hooo, hooo, hoo-oo-oo-oo’ hooting and ‘kee-wick, kee-wick’ calls. One bird appeared to be stationary, on a tree near the edge of the wood, whilst the other was flying around and above the wood, judging by the moving sound. In this ‘400 year anniversary of the bard’ it is worth noting that it was Shakespeare who incorrectly wrote down the birds call as ‘tu-wit, to-who’.  It’s never one tawny owl making this sound, always two birds, one calling ‘Kee-wick’ and the other the gentler ‘hoo, hoo’ sound. This is the time for mating and nesting for tawny owls, as well as other birds, so perhaps I was listening to two lovers serenading each other in the still wood around me.

Tawny Owl (wwwfarm5.static.flikr.com)

I nice thought to end on, as I left the wood and returned to hustle and bustle of life in the town.

If you can’t rouse yourself for the dawn chorus, then an evening serenade is a very pleasant (and perhaps more achievable) alternative. Either way, visiting a woodland in the springtime, to hear the birds singing, should be an annual ‘bucket list item’, to boost your spirits and connect with the Earth’s natural rhythms.

Foal Hurst Wood in May