A young male blackbird has decided that the tree outside our bedroom window is now his territory and for the last couple of weeks every morning around 5 o’clock he would come and raise hell with his incredible songs and calls, some sort of avian free jazz bordering on Tourette’s.
It’s one of those noises that my brain simply cannot filter out, and so I lie awake at the break of dawn, highly annoyed but also in awe of the bird’s vocabulary and creativity.
After half an hour, the bird reckons that this part of its territory is sufficiently secured and it flies on to another tree, where I can faintly hear him start all over.