Great tit, Parus major (Image: Maria Gill)
Birdsong has fascinated me ever since I first saw a picture of song, a sonagram, as an undergraduate student.
I spend much of my time wondering about birdsong: What actually is birdsong? Why do birds sing? What response does song elicit in other birds? How & why do songs change over time? How do signals adapt & change in response to the environment?
For example, we now know that some species, like great tits, sing at a higher pitch in noisy areas than they do in quieter places. Knowing that raises more questions: how long does it take these behavioural differences to emerge? We recently found that a big difference in the pitch of sparrow cheeps has likely emerged in no more than 14 years. But how do these differences emerge? And what are the implications of these changes for conservation & biodiversity?
Sonagram of a corn bunting song. A sonagram is literally a picture of sound.
There is so much detail to be seen in a picture of a song. Time runs along from left to right while pitch ("frequency") goes up and down.
Sonagrams like this greyscale one of a corn bunting song make it much easier to see and understand what a bird is actually singing. It's remarkable how much acoustic diversity they can fit in to just a few seconds of song - and the precision is breath-taking.
Sonagram of a great tit song
This sonagram shows a much simpler song: just two notes repeated over and over. It's the "teach-er teach-er" refrain of a great tit. The colour tells us how loud each part of a syllable is.
A singing corn bunting - blurred as it was taken by holding my phone up against the eyepiece of my binoculars
We might expect birds to sound different if they come from different parts of the country. They might adapt their behaviours to fit in with their neighbours – social adaptation. And indeed they do. Songs of corn buntings form a pattern of local dialects, each dialect only being found in a particular square mile: it's as if an acoustic patchwork quilt has been laid over the land.
Song is remarkable because it is so transient, whisked away on the wind, heard faintly amidst fields, yet invisible to the eye. But birdsong can help our imaginings, altering how we see the natural world, without actually changing the view.
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