Noisy Spring

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Song Thrush (photo Simon Chinnery, Creative Commons BY-SA)

Nearly 60 years ago, biologist and journalist Rachel Carson expressed a growing unease about the deadening effects of the new artificial pesticides on wildlife and people in her seminal volume ‘Silent Spring’.  The title of this book eloquently captured the tangible impact of the loss of bird life resulting from the use of these novel chemicals, the like of which the natural world was ill equipped to absorb.  At the time, species after species in the US and Europe were suffering catastrophic declines – a fact whose cause she traced to the cocktail of chemicals being scattered across the landscape in the cause of productivity.  The book faced huge opposition in the courts, funded by the agrochemical industry, but remained in publication and is still available today.

Were that the end of the story, we might be used by now to one silent spring after another.  But the use of agrochemicals became regulated, DDT was banned and nature began to recover.  Ironic then, that it’s the diversity, beauty and sheer volume of birdsong that has characterised one of the strangest springs in living memory, when it seems human activities, not nature’s sounds, have fallen silent, giving the floor to the birds for the first time in generations.  Nature in her resilience, bounces back – our aptitude for destruction being partially effective but thankfully so far limited.  Perhaps there’s as good a reason as any to stop whatever damage we’re doing now and turn our energies to finding ways of living as part of the natural world rather than enemies of it.

Early one morning – sunrise over the burial ground

Early on an idyllic morning mid-May, I took my computer and microphone outdoors to capture what I could of the dawn chorus.  At 4.30 I might have hoped to be in time to record the first chirrups of the day but I was late to the party.  Sitting for half an hour against the wall of the Meeting House burial ground, I heard the chorus warm up and rise, song by song, to a crescendo of trilling, chirping and cawing – an orchestra eager to play out the drama of the morning.

It would be a travesty to waste time saying any more when nature has so much to say that has for so long been drowned by the mechanical noise of our day-to-day life.  So at this point I’ll hand over to the players of the dawn chorus – the Robin and Wren, Song Thrush, Blackbird and Blue Tit, Crow, Jackdaw and Pheasant, along with a host of other soloists.  If you can pick them out, drop us a line!