Cuckoo

Cuckoo

The unmistakable call of the cuckoo is an integral part of the British spring soundscape and I love to hear it. Despite my best efforts, I have never seen a cuckoo. But I live in hope. The one place I don’t want to spot one is on our local pond, tucked between the River Roding and the M11, where every year a few pairs of reed warblers nest. If a female cuckoo happened upon one of these nests, she would wait until the parent birds were absent, push out one of their eggs and lay one of her own. Twelve days later the baby cuckoo would hatch and its first act would be to eject its competitors from the nest, whether young birds or eggs. A brutal first instinct that leaves it the sole recipient of all food brought in by its unwitting adoptive parents, whom it will soon outgrow.

Reed warbler

The reed warbler is one of the cuckoo’s favourite victims. It’s also one of my favourite birds. Every spring it’s a delight to hear its long, burbling, chattering call from the reeds and even more so to manage to home in on one with binoculars and watch it, perched halfway down a swaying stem, singing pluckily away. If you’ve never heard its song, pop ‘reed warbler call’ into Youtube, you’ll enjoy it. It couldn’t be more different to the simple 2-note refrain of the cuckoo, though it’s equally distinctive. I love to hear both calls, but hopefully never together!