A robin is singing. Moonlight gleams through the trees. These woods are home to a breeding colony of grey herons and, until recently, their incessant yells were part of the dawn chorus. Today, the quietness of an established heron nest high in a beech tree is good news. Herons share parental care and one of the pair is up there – right on time for these early breeders – brooding a clutch of eggs.
Another heron calls out as it swoops through a gap in the trees. The intense storms that preceded this year’s breeding season felled several trees – and their traditional nest sites. The incoming heron lands in a nearby pine tree, where its mate is guarding a messy bundle of twigs. This pair are still building their nest. Both male and female herons have long black crest feathers, and lacy plumes on the throat and back but, in this case, I’ve no trouble identifying the sexes. The male preens his mate before mounting her. There’s a few seconds of wing-flapping, squirming and tail-wagging. After he slides off, the female tucks her bill into her breast feathers and closes her eyes.
The male fusses at the nest, then flies over to the beech tree. He walks along a lower branch, pulling at twigs to break them. The rising sun warms the rosy flush of his legs and the burnt orange of his bill, colours that will fade to greyish‑yellow after the breeding season. As he flaps back and forth with sticks of all sizes, his mate screeches her praise. In between, she fidgets the new material into the nest. The male in the beech tree is causing so much disturbance, I worry for the egg-laden nest above him. Finally that heron stands up, bracing both wings above its back, and then gently prods its bill to turn its clutch.
The sun climbs. Harsh cries throughout the woods announce more herons returning to their nests. The beech tree brooder, still awaiting its mate, has long since shrugged back down into the twiggy depths. At last, its relief arrives. Both herons salute each other with raised crown feathers but busy parents can’t delay. The alighting bird steps straight into the nest. The brooder flies off to hunt, likely for most of the day.
• Under the Changing Skies: The Best of the Guardian’s Country Diary, 2018-2024, is available now at guardianbookshop.com
