I arrive at Wild Woodbury at 04:30am on a mid-week morning, it’s unexpectedly chilly for late April so I put on an extra coat before starting to walk along one of the public footpaths in the faint light of the moon. There is stillness around me, but I know I am not alone in this landscape. With just the background rumble of cars along a nearby road, the close bark of a sika deer shakes any tiredness out of me, and I am now ready and waiting for what I came for.

Still in darkness, I hear birds rising from the ground, their modulated medley of trills and warbles falling around me like a musical fog as I stop and listen across the fields. Skylarks are seemingly always the first to sing at this time of year, each defending their territory in the hope of attracting a mate and successfully breeding. More familiar songs are now joining in and adding to the soundscape; the relaxed and mellow blackbird, the sharp but dreamy robin, and the explosive churrs of the wren.

Having watched the first fractures of light appear over the horizon I carry on walking, struggling not to pace in time to the repeated notes of song thrush overhead, until I hear the characteristic ‘a little bit of bread and no cheeeese’ song of yellowhammer coming from the top of a nearby hedge. As I admire the startling bright yellow of this bird, a number of scratchy notes from a common whitethroat behind me compete for my attention and I miss the yellowhammer flying off. To my surprise, a rattling, machinegun like chortle starts up just a few feet away but the bird stays well hidden in the scrubby hedge, but I know this to be lesser whitethroat, a much less frequent bird at Wild Woodbury, and a close relative of the common whitethroat behind me.

It is now fully light, and I am surrounded by the fluty notes of blackcaps, the eponymous song of chiffchaffs, and the soft, whistling call of bullfinch. As I make my way along a footpath through a woodland, the abrupt ‘twit’ of nuthatch and accelerating patter of firecrest keep me company until I meet a track and follow it down to a footpath parallel to the Bere Stream. As I approach, I can already hear the powerful notes of Cetti’s warbler from the riverside, soon mixed in with the varied, rambling sedge warbler and the raspy call of grey heron. A small diversion through the food forest on site gives the distinctive sound of two stones hitting together from stonechat perched on the fruit trees, whilst the liquid songs and calls from swallows and house martins move through the sky.

Now back at the beginning, I hop in the car and head home and start work, but it won’t be long before I am back again for another dawn chorus.

If you would like to experience the magical dawn chorus at Wild Woodbury for yourself, book a place on our Dawn Chorus Walk event.