Of course, most of the players turn out to be the old regulars: blackbirds, wrens, great tits, the inevitable crows and the distant, disappearing laugh of a green woodpecker. Yet, there’s one sound, not completely unfamiliar, but refreshing all the same, coming from about halfway up a tree just ahead. The leaves are out by now, initially concealing the shy songster. Its urge to sing, however, is irrepressible and, edging stealthily forward to peer up through the branches, it soon reveals itself to be a small, chubby, grey bird with the neat black cap to which it owes its popular name.
The song of the blackcap (Sylvia atricapilla) has an effervescent quality, vaguely akin to that of the blackbird, although briefer and faster. Sweet, but loud, especially when delivered from an exposed perch, it is undoubtedly melodic. Delivered with apparent spontaneity, the blackcap is the Hoagy Carmichael of the bird kingdom, sitting in its tree, casually knocking out a few phrases and then pausing, as if to ask: ‘Is that good enough for you?’
Esta historia es de la edición March 09, 2022 de Country Life UK.
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Esta historia es de la edición March 09, 2022 de Country Life UK.
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