4:40am

I’m awake. It’s still dark outside and it seems I’m not the earliest up. The song thrush has beat me to it; the bold, varied phrases of its song ring through the still early morning air. Each phrase is repeated three or four times before moving on to the next verse.

4:50am

By the time I’ve got my brew and taken up position in the garden, the song thrush is accompanied by other vocalists. The blackbird's fluty, mellow song and the robin's whistling melodies. Although I can identify these individuals, I can hear that other, more unfamiliar voices have joined the chorus. I can’t quite pick out who’s who but it provides a welcome relief to the rumble of the nearby motorway.

5am

I can’t hear the song thrush clearly anymore - instead I’m surrounded by a variety of bird song. I can still pick out those fluty tones of the blackbirds that seem to be the consistent undertone. On top of that are the delightful melodies of the robins, with the occasional interjection of the short warbling song of dunnock.

5:10am

There’s about half an hour until sunrise; we’ve entered the peak window for the chorus. The sky has lightened and the symphony is growing. A wren has added its voice; an explosive, trilling song that seems remarkable for a bird so small. I’m still trying to pick out individual songs, but I find I drift from concentrating on that to just enjoying the moment and letting the ever increasing orchestra of birdsong wash over me.

5:15am

Three mallard ducks have flown over, quacking as they go. That’s their contribution to the chorus! 

5:18am

Nearly half an hour in and the first great tit has joined the chorus, belting out his repeated phrase of “tee-cher, tee-cher, tee-cher”. A song comparable to a squeaky bike pump, yet not unpleasant.

5:20am

30 minutes have flown by. The only thing reminding me I’ve been sat outside for so long is that I’m starting to feel the slight chill in the air (I’ve resorted to swaddling myself in a blanket).

I live next to an arterial road so even with the reduced traffic we still get vehicles rumbling past. Yet, we’ve had several minutes of quiet now. The breeze is rustling through the trees and I’m starting to get a real feel of this dawn chorus.  It’s loud and there are many voices, but it's calm. There are lots of elements, but none are chaotic. I close my eyes and listen to the bird song surrounding me, and I recognise that I feel relaxed.

5:39am

It’s sunrise and after a brief lull, the chorus is back in full swing with some new characters. Goldfinches have joined in, adding their chattering, whistling song. I’ve started to hear the distant crowing of, well, a crow. Yet, not all birds display through song alone. Woodpigeons have begun displaying overhead with their no less charismatic display flight. A steep ascent before reaching the peak, where they loudly clap their wings a few times over their back, before gliding gently down.  A different, but appreciated addition to the chorus.

5:45am

Almost an hour in, I notice the original singers (song thrush, blackbird and robin) have gone much quieter. I can barely hear them anymore. Likely they are now treating themselves to a hard-earned breakfast. It makes you wonder if there is truth in the age-old phrase, “The early bird gets the worm”.

Instead, the smaller, subtler singing birds have started to take centre-stage; the goldfinches and blue tits are the clearest voices in the choir, interspersed with the not-so-subtle song of the wren.

5:55am

I’m starting to hear and see the first signs of our resident starlings rising in the soft, early morning light. Rather than singing their distinctive song of whistles, rattles, clicks and squeaks, they’re half-heartedly chattering to each other. They’ve already established their nesting territories and pairings; they’ve got young, hungry mouths to feed instead.