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One weekend not long ago, I heard chiff-chaff,
willow warbler, blackcap and whitethroat singing in
the garden. The willow warbler and whitethroat have
since moved on, but the chiff-chaff and blackcap have
taken up residence and joined the other resident
songsters. One of these is the song thrush. This year there
have been two pairs sharing my garden which is a
welcome increase (100 per cent!) in what has become an
increasingly rare bird. So I delighted in hearing their
duet.
After an initial outburst when the thrushes started
singing started at
dawn and continued at intervals through the day, their
time spent in song dwindled; and the blackbirds became
the dominant singers. But one thrush has suddenly
started singing again. Unfortunately.
Yesterday, there was a loud bang on the window. Out
of the corner of my eye I saw a thrush thud obliquely
into the glass and drop to the ground. Hoping that a
glancing blow would only stun it, I dashed outside but
found the bird in its death throes. So much for my
population increase.
The unlucky thrush must have been the female because two hours
later, the familiar repetitive phrases of the male's
song were ringing
through the garden again. Once again it is the song
most often heard because the male has reacted rapidly to the loss
of its mate. I suppose Nature does not have time for
the luxury of mourning and, if the male is to secure
descendents, he must start the process again as soon
as possible. To quote Tennyson's The Throstle:
'Love again, song again, nest again, young again'
Except that the song comes first.
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