The language of the birds

It is a sunny morning, there are wild flowers everywhere, and birds are singing, English birds, singing in English, well at least the bird equivalent of English. Such as the bird in the picture, the tiny Goldcrest, England’s smallest bird, which has been seen and heard here. English birds sound so refined, elegant and sweet, unlike their brash Australian counterparts. Funny how English people tend to be (relatively) quiet and reserved like their birds, whereas Australians ….. if you have ever heard the screeching cacophony a mob (group name) of ‘Cockies’ (Sulphur Crested Cockatoo) can generate, or the demonic cackling of a flock (a group name that does not seem quite right) of Kookaburras you will know what this means. Cacophony would have made a brilliant group word for Kookaburras. Then there is the Australian Lyre Bird – the ultimate mimic that can do anything from a chain saw to camera shutters. Why does it do this? It is only the male that does it and he is apparently trying impress the female, any female! Human males do sillier things in pursuing the female of the species.

Have you ever wondered what they are saying, these singing birds (the English birds, not the Australian birds). Perhaps you think it is nothing, but you would be surprised – it is a ‘language’ of nuances and moods, perhaps sounding repetitive but actually not. Some birdcalls can seem rather monotone, such as Wood Pigeons, others are much more melodic, such as Song Thrushes Turdus philomelos – they are among the Beethovens of the bird world, or perhaps, in the case of these English birds, the Elgars of the bird world? There is something like a conversation going on but, because birds do not have the many and varied hang-ups of humans, the conversation tends to be simple reflection on the joys of life, or maybe a message as to where there might be a free lunch on offer.

Then there is the Skylark Alauda arvensis – a small unglamorous looking brown nondescript bird, until it starts to sing – listen to it sing and it transcends its ordinariness. There is no repetition, every part of the song is slightly different and it can go on for hours, often heard but not seen as the bird is most likely hovering many hundreds of feet above you. It sounds like a joyful exclamation of life – and amazingly that is exactly what it is. Would that we could all be like the lark – the world would probably be an immeasurably better place if that were the case. It is easy to see why Ralph Vaughan Williams was inspired to write that wonderfully English piece of music, The lark ascending. Sadly, it was written in 1914 on the eve of WW1 and Vaughan Williams had the inspiration for the music while listening to a lark as he was walking along the coastal cliffs near Dover. It almost never happened because he was inadvertently arrested in the process! They thought he was a German spy!