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hearing things4th Dec 2025Hearing things
As winter comes to a crescendo- at least in terms of loss of daylength- so the nibbles of spring burst forth. Or perhaps they might.
Song thrushes are contrary beasts. They sing in deepest winter, apparently beckoning the sun to stay just that little more. Or, perhaps, more prosaically, they are setting out their stalls, and trying to demarcate resource ownership.
As winter is hard, and song thrushes don't flock, then there is a little about ownership in that fluting trill. Getting clear about who owns the resources is a matter of intense self-interest. Whatever the reason, and I don't think it was to welcome a meagre streaked dawn after a grey night., the spring territory holder of last year on the willow margins was there, alert and vocal.
In the grey, the legacy of a damp night was swished on the viaduct. As the air cleared, the commuters weaved their way across the river. On the road, it was a stuttering line of orange and white, with red flashes as brakes were jammed on. Above, with insouciance, groups of greylags wobbled over invisible baulks of air, on their way to the furthest of the meadows.for breakfast.
As the light slid in, the thrushes - for there were now two counter calling - duelled briefly, then decided to invest their time in the better light in search of food. Less a case of hearing things than seeing things. |
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