The crisp December air in Hogshaw, Derbyshire, carried an unexpected sound at dawn recently - the powerful, declarative voice of a song thrush singing through bedroom windows with enough volume to rattle the glass.
This distinctive did-uu … did-uu … did-uu, chwit, chwit chwit pattern marked one of those rare occasions when the song thrush has been heard performing this side of Christmas, defying the usual seasonal expectations for Britain's breeding thrushes.
The Unconventional Winter Performer
Ordinarily, the seasonal order for our three breeding thrushes beginning their songs starts with the mistle thrush, followed by the song thrush, with the blackbird joining the chorus about a month later. However, when it comes to vocal merit among these species, most enthusiasts would reverse that sequence, placing the blackbird's song at the pinnacle.
Yet if public acclaim were the measure, the song thrush would undoubtedly claim first place. This popularity previously earned it the top spot in a national poll as Britain's favourite bird song, largely due to those memorable recurrent phrases that make its melody easy to learn and recognise.
Robert Browning found wisdom in these repetitions, writing in Home-Thoughts, From Abroad: "That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over, / Lest you should think he never could recapture / The first fine careless rapture!"
The Complexity Behind the Simple Joy
Despite its apparent simplicity, the song thrush's performance is remarkably sophisticated. The average individual bird commands about 130 different songs in its repertoire, many incorporating skilled mimicry of other species including lapwing, snipe, redshank, oystercatcher and curlew.
What strikes listeners first and foremost about the song thrush's melody is its sheer joyousness. Like Dr Pangloss, these birds seem to declare this the best of times in the best of all possible worlds, delivering their message with passionate conviction and emotional willpower.
Climate Concerns or Seasonal Anomaly?
This unusual December performance raises questions about whether this happiest of sounds might also carry concerning implications. Could the thrush be signalling seasons falling out of alignment due to climate changes?
Historical records show similar behaviour during mild winters, such as those of 1947 and 1957, when thrushes in southern counties were tempted into early song by unseasonably warm weather. The Derbyshire performer was likely a young bird of the year, encouraged to tune up by this month's unexpected warmth. As those milder conditions have now ended, so too has the unusual December song.
The experience serves as a reminder of nature's capacity to surprise and delight, even as it prompts reflection on our changing environment and the complex relationship between wildlife behaviour and seasonal patterns.
