Full-body commitment

Having overdone the gardening yesterday (eeeurgh), I awarded myself an easy day today. I also wasn't feeling the love for standing up on the Cotswold scarp waiting for the owls to perform, so I wound up going into Stratford with R, for churchyard birding, steps, and coffee. The most unusual of today's birds, for Stratford at least, was the Cormorant that was fishing in the River Avon off the Bancroft Gardens. But the one I like best was this Robin, which was singing its heart out in Holy Trinity churchyard, and demonstrating that when done properly, this is a full-body commitment. 

It's hard not to hear the Robin's song as a joyful thing, but in reality they sing - both sexes, apparently - to declare their territorial rights over a piece of ground. Unusually for British birds, they also sing all year, except when they're moulting and therefore vulnerable. The Robin's song is described by the incomparable Lev Parikian as "silvery, liquid flutings and ripplings, with (crucially) pauses in between". Personally, I think of this bird as a soprano jazz singer: its pitch is always high, but the notes are very variable, and seem to be improvised on the spot. (The Blackbird, in contrast, devises a beautiful sequence of notes in a mezzo-soprano register, and repeats it, allowing the call of individual birds to be recognised.) The pauses in its song allow the Robin to listen for responses, as nearby individuals acknowledge its declaration and declare their own territories in their turn. 

The "tic-tic" alarm call of the Robin is also worth learning. It's similar to the alarm calls of the Blue Tit and the Wren, but the Blue Tit always sounds to me to be more complaining, and the Wren more angry. The Robin's alarm can be heard on Lev Parikian's page, and in an article by James Duncan of the Sussex Wildlife Trust, who also shares the quieter alarm it uses when it detects airborne predators.