Despite the weather and the cold north wind Spring is here and there is that definite sensation of activity and purpose as the Spring migrants flood unstoppably into the hedgerows, fields and woods and the air rings once again with birdsong from dawn to dusk. The male Common Whitethroat with his cheery irrepressible song flings himself into the sky and as if on elastic exultantly dances in wild flings of ecstacy. Even on the greyest day this feathered optimist sings from the bright green emergent leaves of hawthorn and announces that Spring is really here and the days will lengthen.
The Sedge Warbler, heedless of all, volleys his warbles and mimickery from the densest of blackthorn bushes. A jumble of urgent notes pouring out unstoppably as if there is no time to lose.
Reed Warblers, invisibly deep at the base of dead reeds sing a scratchy ditty whilst waiting for the new reed blades to arise, which they will do rapidly, swords of green pointing skywards. Common ChiffChaffs call plaintively along the ride where they already have built a nest. Banks of Primroses, scrambled egg yellow, growing in the bright green grass of shady banks or in the dappled morning sunlight in wooded rides lift the soul. Their subtle and simple beauty outshining the gaudy cultivated daffodils of many a garden.
The bright green of emergent vegetation slowly erases the brown, dead and brittle as Hares race around, all ears and legs.With thyroid eyes they look madly at you and one another and behave accordingly.
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