It was the second week of February when I first noticed it….. Riding out on my usual bike route, it was a still, February morning; chilly with partial cloud. As I watched the countryside drift by over my handlebars, I suddenly became aware of how the colours were warmer, the light was brighter and the bird song was louder. It seemed like someone had just turned on the light. I immediately felt different, my spirits lifting as I contemplated the coming of an early Spring. The winter darkness slipping silently away.
Now it is the end of February, snowdrops, primroses, hellebore and daffodils are gracing my flowerbeds. Having filled up my bird feeders, I am sitting quietly in my lounge contemplating the day ahead whilst watching the hive of activity in my garden. The comings and goings of my usual sparrows, green finch, long tailed tits, blue tits, song thrushes and blackbirds. Then I notice something very special….A wren had already caught my attention this morning as it perched high on my clematis to deliver its piercing long trill. This was the first bird call I had learned as it is such a loud, distinctive voice which emanates from one of our smallest birds. Here he was again with a fine piece of twig in his beak, darting in and out of the ivy on my ash tree; creating the small beginnings of its tiny, finely woven nest.
The wren is my favourite of garden birds. They are busy, mouse-like creatures with the most exquisite markings and saucy tails that perk up and flicker whilst they sing their heart out. At this time of year, the male bird builds two nests, then attracts a mate with his brilliant voice. Once paired, he shows his love the two small nests and she gets to choose which one will house her brood. I really hope she chooses this one.