‘Our’ Nightingales will have spent the winter in Africa, south of the Sahara in Senegal or Guinea Bissau, perhaps in the company of pelicans. They have travelled north, negotiating a number of dangers en route including a desert crossing, a flight across the Mediterranean the chance of bad weather blowing them off course or an encounter with a predator.
Nocturnal migrants, such as Nightingales, are able to use the stars as a guide. The males arrive first, choose their favourite spot and then start to sing. And it is of course the song that makes this rather plain-looking bird so famous.
It really is quite some song, full of rich melodious notes, piping whistles, frog-like croaks and even a section that sounds like machine gun fire. Apparently, the more complex the song, the more attractive the male is to the female, so he sings through the night in order to tempt a migrating female to fly down for a closer look.
Despite its iconic status we’re in danger of losing the inspiring song of the Nightingale, for its decline over the past few decades has been alarming, with 90% of our British Nightingales lost due to habitat change both here and overseas (as well as the perils of migration).
But it is not all doom & gloom, we have a stronghold for Nightingales here in West Sussex, so be sure to head out on an evening walk later this month and listen out for its song. But be cautious about who you invite on your walk – ‘going to listen to the Nightingales’ was once a euphemism for sneaking off into the dark for a romantic liaison!
