I find there’s a trade to be had in picking bilberries. You can go for tall bushy stands, where the fruits are bigger and possibly sweeter, while your back is less strained by the labour. But finding all those glistening beads buried deep in the tea-like foliage (which was once, incidentally, plucked and dried to make a substitute beverage in the Hebrides) is very slow work. Another option is to go for scantier, low-standing shrubs where the fruits are more visible and abundant, but often of lower quality. Either way, bilberry picking seldom entails rapid progress.
Another issue is the fruit itself. The tiny bell-like quality of each is strangely similar to the shape of the flowers appearing in April and May. One can seldom manipulate these near-weightless, 1cm spheres into your palm and then deposit them by the handful, as you can with blackberries. Nor can you position the bag and rake out with partly opened fingers the dangling clusters, as you can with blackcurrants. Bilberries are a delicate harvest.
