I WAS in the garden yesterday evening, tending a bonfire, its Doric pillar of smoke ascending into a sky of equally ashen colour. The embers of the day were almost out. Always, this standing sentinel over a fire at dusk makes me think of Neolithic hunters in deerskin warming themselves around the camp blaze, British Tommies in balaclavas gathered beside a brazier in the trenches; helping my grandparents burn the dead bines in the hopyard. Ancient things.
Sometimes, I gave the burning heap a prod, so that its orange sparks leapt up to join the white sparks of the stars, and flames painted primitive drawings on the walls. The scent of woodsmoke was intoxicating.
Mostly, however, I leaned on my fork and listened to the birds. Is it not odd that the sunset chorus receives so little attention? The avian aubade has an ‘International Dawn Chorus Day’, but where is the fuss for the birds’ evensong?
True, the dusk chorus is less intense and less structured than its early-morning counterpart, when the bird species join in a pattern so regular you could set your watch by them. Almost. (Usually, robins commence singing 75 minutes before dawn, with blackbirds, thrushes, woodpigeons, wrens, warblers following suit in intervals until sunrise, when tits, sparrows and finches add their voices.) The evening performance is looser, ‘jazzier’. It, however, has its own virtues and magic, especially in April when the trees are not yet muffled by leaves and the atmosphere is free of summer humidity, so the birdsong stands out clear in the chill air.
この記事は Country Life UK の April 28, 2021 版に掲載されています。
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この記事は Country Life UK の April 28, 2021 版に掲載されています。
7 日間の Magzter GOLD 無料トライアルを開始して、何千もの厳選されたプレミアム ストーリー、9,000 以上の雑誌や新聞にアクセスしてください。
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