I walked to the postbox down our street the other evening. The post is collected at 9am but so often when I think ‘I’ll pop along in the morning’ I later end up thinking ‘Missed the post again’. So in the evening gloom I strolled along the road past Victorian red-brick houses on the right. Two Blackbirds were singing.
Just then, the song of the Blackbird was my favourite bird song in the world, ever! Have a listen to these two examples, the first from Faro in Portugal and the second from Tower Hamlets, London;
Whereas the Song Thrush is clearly trying to put on a performance with its song, and succeeding, the Blackbird is a much more homely rendition. Song Thrushes sound as though they are broadcasting to the world, including to me when I am listening, Blackbirds sound like they are singing to the neighbourhood, and I’m part of that.
Standing by the red postbox I listened to an unseen Blackbird and felt soothed. Who would not? ‘And for that minute, a Blackbird sang‘, and it was a wonderful minute.