Before moving to central London I never realized how much I appreciated birdsong. We often do not value things fully till they are gone. Normally all we hear are some very vociferous gulls who confuse tall buildings with cliffs and aren't too bothered about the seaside, and the ubiquitous pigeons. There is one pigeon who sits on a railing outside my window and coos in a very agreeable way; I am not joining in the current pigeon phobia that seems to be fashionable ('flying rats'). Just use the alternative name of Rock Doves and it casts a different light on things. I occasionally spend a bit of time on a secluded bench in nearby Regents Park and exchange a few words with the local wildlife: nearly tame squirrels, robins that sit on your shoulder if you keep still, superior looking rats and pigeons that are plump with elegant plumage. In the spring the males have amazing colours shimmering on their necks, changing from purple-pink to electric greens in the sunlight.
For the past week or so we have been visited by a little bird that I have not been able to see and we cannot identify but it sings! It sings all day and its song can be heard up and down the street. It has a short ascending song that lifts our hearts and breaks a bit of God's creation into this man made environment- the dark canyons of Mammon succumb to the song of a bird.
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