The first singing chaffinch

The first chaffinch sung in the park today. They often start tentatively, but this one sung three or four times before starting foraging on the tree. Spring must be in the air!

Singing starlings

Starlings sing all year round. True that in spring they spend more time atop vantage points near their nest, throat feathers fluffed, wings fluttering, emphasising their phrases. Even in December though, they find time to sing. They include calls from other birds, often copied to perfection: pied wagtails, sparrows, swift are some that have misled me when I realised it was a starling singing. I was tidying up the photos of the year when I found this photo from May, which captures the enthusiasm of a starling singing.

Goldcrest singing

There are two territory holding male Goldcrests in my local park. Each appears centred on a large cypress. This morning, over the traffic noise, I head their incredibly high pitched, not very loud song, which appears to come from a tiny violin.
 I searched for it a bit halfheartedly, as this cypress is massive, but the Goldcrest just moved onto a smaller one. It fed, as Goldcrest do, in a rush, never stopping, but it did stop for a moment to utter his song and I managed to capture it.
This is a sonogram from the wonderful website Xenocanto of a Goldcrest song:

Goldfinch Chorus

This morning, while I walked around the park I heard a distant loud cheerful chatter. As I approached I realised there was a flock of Goldfinches up a large horse chestnut and many of them were singing. It is the second time this week that I witness this behaviour, the first time it also happened in the morning, the flock of Goldfinches singing together from a bare sycamore. Some seemed to amuse themselves pecking the branches, but in general they were just calling and singing. Goldfinches are very social birds, they often nest in loose colonies, and, although individuals might squabble for a particular food source, they often feed together in flocks. Whereas in the summer they like the seeds of teasels, thistles and other herbaceous plants (even lavender seeds!), in the winter, they can often be seen feeding on trees, like Alder, Plane, Ash and Birch. I haven't managed to find much information about chorus singing in Goldfinches, but the behaviour has been described in the closely related American Goldfinch and Siskin, where the males in the flock joining in chorus song in winter and spring.

Goldfinch flock singing (two bulkier Greenfinches are amongst them)

December songsters

It is not unusual to hear bird song in December. Robins and Goldfinches sing year round, Wrens will burst into song at any time. Do Starlings ever stop singing? I don't think they do.  Collared Doves and Stock Doves, after a short rest at the end of their breeding season, can now be heard calling again.
 In sunny winter days, Song Thrushes will start singing, maybe more towards January.

Wren in full song in October

Collared dove singing a couple of days ago.

Starling singing yesterday

 Today I heard two bird species singing, however, which I've never heard singing at this time of year. This morning I heard distant fluting phrases that sounded like a Mistle Thrush. I went to investigate and there it was, a Mistle Thrust atop a tree, singing contentedly.

 Blackbirds, normally will sub-sing in the winter. This is an eery, very quiet song, that usually subadult individuals carry out, as if 'practising' singing, well hidden in bushes. But as I was leaving work today, as it happened last week, I heard the surreal full song of a blackbird, its beautiful notes raising over the cacophony of the Carrion Crow roost at campus, and transporting me into spring. I had to check this out. There it was a full adult male Blackbird was singing from a wall. Given that it was quite dark at 16:15, the photo on top was the best I could manage without using the flash, but I recorded a short video of it. A very very unusual thing to happen in early December. I wonder if the unseasonally mild weather we are having is confusing this normally spring songster.

The soul thrush

This young male blackbird (recognisable for its brownish wings and black smudges on its bill) sung its beautiful song in front of my house yesterday. Were not for the fact that the blackbird song is so familiar we would herald the blackbird as one of the most pleasant songsters. The song thrush gets the name, but in comparison it's just an apprentice compared to the musical delivery of the blackbird. When I first moved to the UK, my garden's blackbird sung the first notes of Ella Fitzgerald 'Fascinating Rhythm', one of the blackbirds a couple of year back sung 'La Cucaracha' chorus really well. It really deserves the name of the soul thrush.

Stock doves courting

I was lucky this morning to watch a pair of Stock Doves courting from a good vantage point. They usually stick to high branches in the trees in the park, only rarely coming to the ground. Today I heard a male's booming call from the trees opposite the pond, and I climbed to a small hill on the other side. My new camera is heavy and I still need to get used to its weight, so I eventually leaned against a tree trunk to steady myself. The male crouched on a branch bowing parsimoniously at the same time that fanned its tail - very similar to woodpigeon's courtship -, facing the female. Its neck, inflated with air showed while cooing showed its green iridescent neck patch, which looks much larger than when the dove is at rest (bottom photo).

A side view of the male singing

The male looks at the female about to land

She greets her with this lovely display

She eventually lands next to him. This photo is not brilliant, but I like how the neck patch is actually ruffed, something I had not seen before.

More male bowing, fanning tail, showing its iridescent neck patch.

A stock dove at rest, from 27th Feb. Compare the size of the neck path.

Four calling pigeons

I had this little project in my mind for a long time, to get photos of all four local pigeon species as they call. What I had not anticipated was that I would do in in a single day in the space of 15 minutes, all in a very small area. All pigeons are now in full blown song and courtship. When I spotted the Woodpigeon above, he wasn't calling, it appeared to be just enjoying the sun, but as I walked away, I heard it calling and I turned back. The noise of the roadworks didn't stop it calling.

It is unusual to see a Collared Dove calling in the park.

Not much further away, a Stock Dove started calling. This ash is their favourite tree, and most of the time there are two or three there. Stock doves are quite timid, and they call from high vantage points.

To end the series, it wasn't too hard to find the courting Feral Pigeons, there were plenty around. This male and watchful female were on the roof of the cafe at Pearson Park. 

Dunnock portrait

This male Dunnock made a pause in between bouts of singing. He looks pretty dapper sitting on the spruce branches, almost smiling to the camera.

Singing Great Tit

This Great Tit was singing enthusiastically from a tree today. I whistled its 'tea-cher' song and, curious, it came out more in the open, showing its black chest band, head high.

New year song thrush

The Song Thrush has a skulking, unassuming nature, not as bold as the Blackbird or Mistle thrush, and much more cryptic than the first. During and after the summer moult it becomes almost invisible. But as the start of the year approaches males start to sing, and then they become bold and loud, choosing a prominent post, usually the topmost branches of a tree and delivering their clear, musical phrases, often including mimicry of other birds, and repeated a few times each in long sessions. I watched a male in the park yesterday for a while - I ended up getting neck ache!. The singing was punctuated with nervous glances up into the sky at the slightest disturbance, and I guess that singing makes males quite exposed and vulnerable to predation.
Can you spot the Song Thrush on the large Horse Chestnut?

Autumn songs

Despite the days becoming shorter and darker, a few birds are still singing. Robins, both males and females claim their winter territories with their heartfelt, melancholic song, Wrens can be prompted to go on their outburst of song all year round, often by other bird calls and Starlings, donning their brightly spotty winter plumage call enthusiastically from chimneys and aerials.

Mistle thrushes sharing the turf

There is a resident pair of Mistle Thrushes in my local park. The resident male has been singing occasionally since the end of November from a high post on the tallest trees. Mistle Thrushes' song is reminiscent of the Blackbird's but with shorter, more repetitive, mournful phrases that carry quite far. Up to five birds gathered on the grass before Christmas, and when the snow arrived the locals birds had to share the few clear patches of turf under the trees with a flock of immigrant Redwings and a lone Fieldfare in search of earthworms and other invertebrates. Mistle Thrushes are large and bossy, and if the other thrushes get too close, they are chased away without trouble. Resident birds have a head start in the breeding season. They know their patch and as soon as conditions are right they can start nesting right away.
 The male was singing again in the last few days without snow, while the female fed on the grass.

Mistle Thrush and Fieldfare

Mistle Thrush, Redwing (back) and Fieldfare (foreground)

The pair feeding on the snow

Male singing yesterday

Builder Wren and counting hens

Wrens start singing early. They have been doing it occasionally since the first days of January, their powerful quick song cheering up the dark winter days. Today they seem to have gone for it on earnest: I heard four different males singing on my way to work. They have lots to do and there is so little, precious time. They have to start building their nests before females are ready to lay. Yes, I said nests, not just one, but many, lots, as many as he can possible make before the females start visiting. And also, I said females, as wrens are polygynous, with one male mating with between one to nine females per season. Each spring, male Wrens, Troglodytes troglodytes, build several nests in their territory in quick succession. They are called "cock nests" and are spherical, with a side entrance, placed in suitable locations and offer the structure of the finished nest (the female will line it with hair and feathers). It takes between half a day to five days to make a nest. Although Wren's songs are incredible powerful for their minute size it is the nests the females will judge before settling for a male, in particular, the number of nests. The male will display to entice the female to each vacant nest, singing and excitedly guiding her to the nests, to advertise what an accomplished builder he is. The more empty nests a female is shown the better. The next graph shows the positive relationship between the number of nests built by a male and the number of females making breeding attempts - and therefore the number of fledglings that the male will sire.

(from Evans and Burn, 1996)

 Males vary in their ability to make nests - or in their ability to defend a territory where the nests can be built. Age makes a difference, with older males better at making nests. Habitat structure is also important, with denser vegetation indicating a better territory, where nests are less likely to be predated. But the most important explanatory factor is male condition: heavier males at the beginning of the season will be able to make more nests, so the number of nests is a measure of male quality. Females benefit from mating with males demonstrating their good condition, so it pays them to carry out a nest count before settling for a male. Experimental manipulating of number of nests present on each male's territory carried out by Mathew Evans and Joe Burn showed that the actual number of nests is the mate-choice cue that the female uses to assess male quality. The making of multiple nest by the male wren as an ornament, an extended phenotype result of the same factor than the tail of the peacock, a signal of quality selected by sexual selection.

References
Evans, M. (1997). Nest building signals male condition rather than age in wrens Animal Behaviour, 53 (4), 749-755 DOI: 10.1006/anbe.1996.0311


Evans, M., & Burn, J. (1996). An experimental analysis of mate choice in the wren: a monomorphic, polygynous passerine Behavioral Ecology, 7 (1), 101-108 DOI: 10.1093/beheco/7.1.101

January Chorus

There are a surprisingly high number of bird species that start singing in January. A handful of species can pretty much sing all through the winter: Robins, Collared Doves, Woodpigeons and, surprisingly, Great Tits and Blue Tits. Some mild winters the Song Thrush will join them. Although the days are still cold and short, light levels are increasing by the day and this set birds into 'get ready for breeding' mood. One after the other birds join the chorus.
 In the last two weeks, Coal Tits, Song Thrushes, Stock Doves, Starlings (above), Dunnocks, Goldfinches and Chaffinches have, ones boldly, others more tentatively, taken positions and started to practice their singing. Even Sparrows sitting under the eaves have been doing their chirping.

Robin singing

Song Thrush

Singing in the rain

If there is a group of birds who love bad weather, that's the thrushes. I guess there is a plentiful supply of earthworms in wet soil and they have a full stomach and a lot of time on their wings. It's been raining non-stop all day. This morning, a Blackbird sang softly from a tree. And, after the whole wet day, a Song Thrush joyfully delivered his repeated bold phrases on top of a bare tree this evening. Yesterday I heard the first song of the Song Thrush of the year. Today, two individuals sang from their prominent posts about one mile apart.

Despite the awful weather, the first signs of spring are here with us!

December songs

Spot the Blackbird subsinging

The sun shone today, a mild December day. A couple of Blue Tits busily searched through the thinner branches of the lime tree in front of the house, while a Great Tit sang enthusiastically between feeding on the trunk and thicker branches.
Later in the day I heard the beautiful, melancholic phrases of a Robin singing. Robins, being territorial, sing almost year round. And then, a mystery song. Quiet, almost whispered twitter coming from well inside a bush. I searched, a male Blackbird, hiding, singing to himself. During spring and summer, Blackbirds sing proud from top of trees, buildings, aerials - which must feel like singing from the top of the world for the Blackbirds of Hull. Somehow the birds in winter have this desire to sing, but cannot/won't do it in its usual way. This song is called 'subsong' and it is not completely understood why they do it. Some people argue it is the start of territory defence, with pair starting to form; others argue the birds are  practicing, as it can happen from young birds. It usually happens when there is plenty of food, and some time to spare, and what better to do with your time than a bit of music?

A singing blackbird in May