The arboretum feels like a place in slow transition. The trees are ablaze in shades of maroon, crimson, copper, amber and gold, but with every breath of wind, leaves detach and float to the ground. The spongy bark of a coastal redwood yields under my fingertips. Caught in a crevice, a single downy feather marks where a tree creeper roosted overnight. I scan the surrounding trees, listening out for the high-pitched seeee-seeee-seeee contact call they make as they spiral up a trunk, but there’s no sign.
The birdlife has quietened. All we can hear are carrion crows cawing from the treetops, an occasional croak from a ring-necked pheasant lurking in the bracken, and the wispy voices of a pair of goldcrests probing for insects in the canopy of a weeping Japanese maple.
At the wetland viewpoint, a robin alights on the fence beside my friend and begins to sing through its closed bill – a soft, breathy echo of its full-throated spring song. After a few phrases, he flits over to me, settling within touching distance. His throat trembles as he serenades me with the same quiet, intimate melody. Each time he pauses, I tell him how handsome he is, how lovely his song, how lucky we are to share this moment with him. Head cocked, he responds to my murmured words. It becomes a conversation of sorts.
This is the robin’s whisper song – a muted version of his familiar tune, used in close company, often to court a female or signal his presence to a nearby rival without provoking aggression. It’s structured, deliberate, but delivered in an undertone.
It’s quite different to subsong – the quiet, rambling warbles of rehearsal, often performed from the dense cover of a hedge or bush. Subsong is typical of birds with a low breeding drive – adults keeping their voices supple through autumn and winter, or juveniles learning their repertoire (the avian equivalent of toddler babbling). The irregular notes and half-phrases bear little resemblance to full song.
When a couple stroll past, our companion flutters to a mossy stump and resumes his quiet recital. In a landscape easing into dormancy, his whisper song provides a fitting soundtrack.
• Under the Changing Skies: The Best of the Guardian’s Country Diary, 2018-2024 is published by Guardian Faber; order at guardianbookshop.com and get a 15% discount
