Typical spring. March, and it’s still alternating between just warm and kinda cold. A maximum of 9°C, with rain skulking just over the horizon. But spring nonetheless: the woods are filled with birdsong.

Last time, I said that birds were mostly seen heard but not seen; perhaps that’s just winter. This time: heard and — just — seen. The trick, I think, is to sit and wait.

Birds are finely attended to the sound of potential threats; a person crashing through the woods represents a threat that’s easily avoided. When you sit and wait, you fade into the background, registered less as a threat than as furniture. So, this time: blackbirds (Turdus merula) flitting on the edge of vision. A mash tit (Poecile palustris) patrolling his territory, black cup displayed proudly. Head, out of sight: song thrush (Turdus philomelos), robin (Erithacus rubecula), coal tit (Periparus ater), chiffchaff (Phylloscopus collybita), blue tit (Cyanistes caerulus), Cetti’s warbler (Cettia cetti).

So, rain lurking just over the horizon, 9°C, the ground scattered with last year’s dead leaves, but still unmistakably spring.