Starting out my walk I hear a Firecrest, continuous repetitions of a soft high pitched ‘tzee tzee tzee’. It’s so faint (or perhaps that’s my hearing…) that the sound disappears in the gusting wind and under the rustling of the leaves. I glance around the tree canopy to try and spot the bird to no avail, just the Jackdaws which clatter about the skies above.
A splash of colour catches my eye, appearing red at a distance – maybe some Rosehips or some late-season Haws still clinging to their branches? But as I get closer I find a bounty of magenta-pink Spindle berries. The leaves have faded to a pale-green and citrusy lemon yellow.
Here, the Firecrest’s call grows in intensity, until the tiny bird appears right in front of me, flitting restlessly between the Sycamore branches. Clearly displaying it’s namesake: A flame orange stripe upon its head. A second Firecrest joins the series of high pitched whistles, it resembles a much softer version of one of those whistles you’d use to call a dog.
A gathering of sound in sky, building in intensity, as if a plane were to be passing low overhead. Instead, a flock of Woodpigeons appear, racing past at an impressive speed – a loud ‘swoosh’ of the air passing of their soaring wings.
By this point I’m camouflaged into the scrub – Dorset Council green has its advantages. A Wren hops right past my feet so that I’m looking down upon it and can appreciate the delicate barring upon its wing feathers, the pale eye stripe, and short upturned tail.
Next, a loudly chirping Chaffinch fills the soundscape, along with a Robin, and a flock of passing Goldfinch momentarily joining the chorus. Harsher caws from a Rook interject. All the while, the Firecrest still flits about the branches, but now silent whilst in the audible presence of the other birds.