My favourite reference - and most commonplace, probably - to the nightingale is in Romeo and Juliet as the young lovers (she was, what, 13?) debate whether they are hearing the lark or the nightingale. If the lark, Romeo had better skedaddle! If the nightingale, they had time for a quickie.
Interesting birdsong soundtrack, Bill. Coincidentally, there is a story in the Guardian this morning about the invasive red-billed leiothrix, otherwise known as the Pekin or Japanese nightingale, which is forcing out other songbirds in the southern UK. Very pretty bird and song. Here is an entire hour of it singing shrilly, for your pleasure. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bd2v7wlE18U
One of the shortest, but most sublime and unforgettable experiences in my life has been the sound of a nightingale singing.
On nice summer evenings, my family of two parents and three kids often used to go for a ‘constitutional walk’ after dinner, strolling a few blocks, chatting to various neighbours over the hedge, keeping an eye on everything so familiar after twenty years of living in the same leafy place.
There it was, invisible in the towering beech trees (or was it an oak?) above us: a nightingale singing in the perfectly windstill, balmy air, clear as the acoustics of Amsterdam’s Concertgebouw, for several long minutes. We stood nailed to the ground, listening to the magic in complete silence, which was a rare occurrence in a family of five, but every one of us, young and older, recognized and cherished this special moment.
I was about nine or ten and it was the first time I heard a nightingale and the last. I have tried, over the years, during visits to the Netherlands, to rediscover the experience, but no such luck. The forests have remained silent. And I don’t think we have nightingales in this part of the world, coastal B.C.; they need a habitat of deciduous forests. Besides, their populations were seriously diminished by mankind’s errant ways of course, much aided by their beloved pet cats.
These various singers can try – and what they do is beautiful - but I’m afraid they don’t come close to the purity of a nightingale’s song. Thank you Bill for your lovely ode to this very precious bird.
My favourite reference - and most commonplace, probably - to the nightingale is in Romeo and Juliet as the young lovers (she was, what, 13?) debate whether they are hearing the lark or the nightingale. If the lark, Romeo had better skedaddle! If the nightingale, they had time for a quickie.
Interesting birdsong soundtrack, Bill. Coincidentally, there is a story in the Guardian this morning about the invasive red-billed leiothrix, otherwise known as the Pekin or Japanese nightingale, which is forcing out other songbirds in the southern UK. Very pretty bird and song. Here is an entire hour of it singing shrilly, for your pleasure. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bd2v7wlE18U
One of the shortest, but most sublime and unforgettable experiences in my life has been the sound of a nightingale singing.
On nice summer evenings, my family of two parents and three kids often used to go for a ‘constitutional walk’ after dinner, strolling a few blocks, chatting to various neighbours over the hedge, keeping an eye on everything so familiar after twenty years of living in the same leafy place.
There it was, invisible in the towering beech trees (or was it an oak?) above us: a nightingale singing in the perfectly windstill, balmy air, clear as the acoustics of Amsterdam’s Concertgebouw, for several long minutes. We stood nailed to the ground, listening to the magic in complete silence, which was a rare occurrence in a family of five, but every one of us, young and older, recognized and cherished this special moment.
I was about nine or ten and it was the first time I heard a nightingale and the last. I have tried, over the years, during visits to the Netherlands, to rediscover the experience, but no such luck. The forests have remained silent. And I don’t think we have nightingales in this part of the world, coastal B.C.; they need a habitat of deciduous forests. Besides, their populations were seriously diminished by mankind’s errant ways of course, much aided by their beloved pet cats.
These various singers can try – and what they do is beautiful - but I’m afraid they don’t come close to the purity of a nightingale’s song. Thank you Bill for your lovely ode to this very precious bird.