But what about the incredible birdsong that we all enjoyed during lockdown?

Did birdsong actually become louder during lockdown of spring 2020 or did we just imagine this?  73% of participants in a recent study reported hearing louder birdsong during the first lockdown.  I was tending my neighbour's garden for these months, feeding a host of wild birds who frequented and nested in their "nature-friendly" garden.  After putting out the seed and fat balls, I would sit for an hour or so with my writing book and be kept company by a delightful cacophony of lilting bird tunes. I watched the delicate interaction between bird species, all seemingly able to live harmoniously in a small garden.  The elegant pigeons that always arrived first at the bird-feeder were visibly protective of their feeding.  But they always left enough for the smaller birds with sparrows, blackbirds, robins and sometimes lively starlings all having their share. 

I wondered if the birds were singing more cheerfully and exuberantly as they were being uninterrupted by humans.  Perhaps they were celebrating the quietness of their habitat, with less noise pollution for their delicate senses?  Or did we just notice the birdsong that was always there because everything was quieter?  Without the constant over-stimulation of traffic noise, overhead planes and the constant pinging of phones, we were able to hear the delicate sounds of nature.  In San Fransisco, the white-crowned sparrows were monitored and during the spring of 2020, their song was actually quieter but richer, deeper and more varied than normal.  Not only did we feel better with the silence, so too did the birds.

As we ease our restrictions in the UK, I have many mixed emotions about it.  Even though I am enjoying being able to relax and chat to friends for longer periods in their gardens, I am missing the stillness and audible birdsong already.  At weekends, our seaside town once again has traffic queues, congested parking and hundreds of visitors admiring the beach-huts.  While of course this is great news for the local economy that relies on tourism, I wonder about our human impact on Mother Earth.  I feel like a protective mother, wanting to keep things peaceful with the sound of the birds and waves a soothing tonic for the soul.  Will we quickly forget about our deep, primal connection to nature when we are tempted back out into the material world of shopping, meals-out, drinks with friends and driving about?

Rather than birdsong becoming a forgotten source of pandemic nourishment while everything else was closed, what about holding onto this tender connection?  During this last year, I have felt incredibly close to nature, observing the tiny changes in plants and bird life along my regular route.  I had never taken the time, until now, to notice the buds on trees in the spring, slowly opening a little further each day as I walk past.  Similarly, I had never slowed down long enough to get to know some familiar birds in their home patch out on my walks.  Now that I pause, listen, take a breath or two and stay still for a minute I am rewarded with getting to know my local bird life.  It fills me with joy and a deep sense of wonder, each time I hear a bird's exquisite tune and I pause to spot the source high up in a tree. Thanks to helpful locals and the RSPB website, I can now proudly identify (as a complete beginner) a very small number of bird calls!

On an early walk recently while the beach was quiet, I was excited to sit for a few minutes watching a cormorant, perched on a wooden post above the water.  I hadn't seen a cormorant for months, and had wondered if the beach had become too busy for this shy, graceful bird?  I watched in awe as it opened and closed its enormous wings to help dry them.  Further along the beach runs a sloping grassy bank which is home to a kestrel who hovers above patches of long grass.  I watched from a distance, not wishing to disturb her precision and marvelled at how long she can stay perfectly still while hovering.  And in total contrast, two tiny wagtails followed my steps along the grassy bank, almost bouncing with joy and lightness as they moved.  The birdsong walking by the beach is entirely variable, depending on the tide.  Low tide is a bird-watcher's paradise, with rich feeding grounds awash with waders such as oyster-catchers and tiny turnstones.

Last week, we walked through woodland rather than along the beach and was instantly struck by the intensity of bird song.  Even though there was some traffic noise at times, I felt like my ears were becoming better attuned to listening to the delicate birdsong all around me.  The first song I heard among the oak trees was a clear two note tune, so simple but recognisable as a great tit.  A robin hopped along the path for a few moments, looking curiously at us.  Later I heard its distinctive melodic improvisation, consisting of long notes followed by some rapid trilling.  That afternoon, I heard a chiffchaff, a small olive-brown warbler with a distinct three tone repetitive call and a pause awaiting the response of a mate.  

Each time I am in nature and pause to notice the birdsong and bird life around me, I feel deeply relaxed and joyous.  Through this difficult pandemic year, the nurturing and calming effect of birdsong has been a common theme for so many of us.  Dr Eleanor Radcliffe has studied the impact of birdsong on human well-being and found, unsurprisingly, that there was an positive impact on mental fatigue and stress.  This was especially through hearing birdsong that is quiet, high frequency with a level of complexity such as a melody.  I hope that through this pandemic period, many of us will continue to feel the presence of our natural world that sustains us.  Perhaps the birdsong is a literal wake-up call for all of us to preserve our precious planet and remember how deeply connected we are, if we just pause long enough to notice.

"A birdsong can even, for a moment, make the whole world into a sky within us, because we feel that the bird does not distinguish between its heart and the world's."  Rainer Maria Rilke 

 

 

Photos courtesy of Unsplash with thanks: robin, tree sparrow, wagtail, chiffchaff, cormorant.  I dd attempt to take photos, but capturing bird life on camera is very difficult!