I don't think anyone could call a nightingale beautiful, in fact one can easily dismiss it as a LBJ (Little Brown Job) as birders would say. However the male's song is incredibly loud and varied, and much admired for its trills, bubbles and whistles.
Last year I discovered that West Berkshire was quite a hot spot for these birds as they set up breeding territories on their migratory return from Africa. So this morning, I left early enough to reach Hosehill Lake by 6.45.am allowing me a couple of hours to (hopefully) both see and hear a nightingale before I was needed for babysitting at my daughter's house only a few miles away.
I'd done enough research to know a favoured spot and sure enough my Merlin app picked up a nightingale singing straightaway but I but couldn't see it until it flew out of a nearby tree to some brambles across the path and disappeared. Whilst waiting for it to hopefully reappear, someone came past and in conversation told me that this particular bird often sang in a particular tree nearby which he pointed out, also that there were probably another four nightingales singing around the lake. I decided to continue my walk but reaching halfway point without hearing any further singing, decided that perhaps I would just return to my first spot and wait.
The nightingale was singing again, from the same area as I'd first heard it but stopped and I had to wait another ten minutes for it to restart and then I just managed to spot it on the other side of a tree facing away from me, and partially hidden. I knew if I attempted to move closer to get a clearer view if would disappear again so I just waited, I could see its body pulsating as it poured out its song but then it stopped and flew across to the area of brambles but just below its favourite tree. Would it come out and sing from that tree as I had been told, I wondered?
There was only one way to find out.....
Whilst waiting I sat on a bench overlooking the lake where geese and ducks were going about their usual business, from time time turning to watch a blackcaps, long tailed tits and blue tits now pairing up ready to raise a family. All the while, I listened out for the nightingale to start singing again. Twenty minutes passed, and then into the tree it flew, and as I raised my camera the singing started. In perfect view the nightingale sang its heart out, its flutey song interspersed with repeated phrases including 'chook, chook chook' and 'pioo, pioo'.
I sat alone with my camera poised, enjoying the song of this normally secretive little bird until it had had its fill and flew off into the bushes behind.
Fantastic! I said aloud, and left.