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Birdwatching With Your Eyes Closed: An Introduction to Birdsong
Learning birdsong is not just a way to become a better bird-spotter. It is tuning a way of hearing the soundtrack of the planet earth...Why do birds sing? What are they trying to say? Birdsong is not just about natural history. It is also about our history. We got melody from the birds as we got rhythm from the womb. This vital book - with a free podcast - takes you from winter into deepest spring, teaching you to how recognise song after song as the chorus swells. You start with robin, and end up listening to nightingales. Along the way, you will learn something of the science of birdsong - the difference between song and call, the physiology of songbirds, what birdsong tells us about evolution, and indeed the very beginnings of life itself. The aim is to give you a flying start in birdsong so that, after reading this book, you'll be listening to order, not chaos, to Bach, not white noise. You will be more aware of the wild world, and better able to understand it.
273 pages, Paperback
First published November 3, 2011
48 people are currently reading
290 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 27 of 27 reviews
September 25, 2016
"I have written this book in the hope that those who read it may become a little less civilised: that something of that freshness of observation can be found again." Simon Barnes, I'm so glad you did! To a wannabe-birder like me, Birdwatching with your Eyes Closed is informative, useful and accessible.
Barnes walks us through the process of bird-listening with a truly personal touch. He shares stories and opinions from his own experience as a rookie, allowing us to build on his strengths and learn from his mistakes. He provides quirky and relatable analogies and mnemonics ranging from Basil Fawlty to football chants to leaky pumps, which are as entertaining as they are memorable!
For such a humorous, light-hearted book, it is also highly philosophical. We are encouraged to reflect on our practise as birdwatchers; to love to listen and observe with joy, rather than merely ticking off a list. We come to question birdsong itself. How far can birds be seen to have a language? Are they mimics, composers ... artists? How much is innate and how much learned? These in turn lead to 'bigger' questions about humankind's relationship to the natural world. Is 'human' a super-species, or rather a single element of the delicate ecosystem shared with all living organisms?
The book is enhanced by an essential podcast that runs through each call / song along with a short description from Barnes. Reading a chapter while listening to the bird sing, and simultaneously referring to an image of said bird, makes for a truly enriching experience. Alas, though, it is with the podcast element that my grumbles lie. This was difficult. It may be due to my ancient phone, but I was unable to download and save the podcast, meaning that I needed wifi access whenever I wanted to listen (i.e. read). I also can't understand why there was no way to skip 'tracks', making it frustratingly fiddly to find my place every time I picked the book (and phone) back up.
Despite this, there's no way I can give the book itself anything less than five stars. Barnes is a great teacher, empowering his readers not only to remember, but to understand and question at the deepest level. And to respond to the eternal birding quandary... Yes, hearing DOES count!
Barnes walks us through the process of bird-listening with a truly personal touch. He shares stories and opinions from his own experience as a rookie, allowing us to build on his strengths and learn from his mistakes. He provides quirky and relatable analogies and mnemonics ranging from Basil Fawlty to football chants to leaky pumps, which are as entertaining as they are memorable!
For such a humorous, light-hearted book, it is also highly philosophical. We are encouraged to reflect on our practise as birdwatchers; to love to listen and observe with joy, rather than merely ticking off a list. We come to question birdsong itself. How far can birds be seen to have a language? Are they mimics, composers ... artists? How much is innate and how much learned? These in turn lead to 'bigger' questions about humankind's relationship to the natural world. Is 'human' a super-species, or rather a single element of the delicate ecosystem shared with all living organisms?
The book is enhanced by an essential podcast that runs through each call / song along with a short description from Barnes. Reading a chapter while listening to the bird sing, and simultaneously referring to an image of said bird, makes for a truly enriching experience. Alas, though, it is with the podcast element that my grumbles lie. This was difficult. It may be due to my ancient phone, but I was unable to download and save the podcast, meaning that I needed wifi access whenever I wanted to listen (i.e. read). I also can't understand why there was no way to skip 'tracks', making it frustratingly fiddly to find my place every time I picked the book (and phone) back up.
Despite this, there's no way I can give the book itself anything less than five stars. Barnes is a great teacher, empowering his readers not only to remember, but to understand and question at the deepest level. And to respond to the eternal birding quandary... Yes, hearing DOES count!
February 10, 2026
I should begin with a confession: I am predominantly a birdwatcher, not a bird listener, and this is not something I am proud of. I know, intellectually and practically, how central birdsong is to identification, to presence, to understanding what is happening in a landscape long before a bird reveals itself. And yet, like many of us, I have relied far too heavily on sight. This book gently and sometimes firmly calls out that imbalance.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, I loved this book. But I also recognise that my affection comes with bias. There is something deeply comforting in a book that validates your instinct to love birds while simultaneously asking you to love them better.
One of the book’s most powerful ideas, and one that stayed with me, is the insistence that we are never truly alone, because birdsong is everywhere. As Barnes writes, birds are with us “almost everywhere we go, even in cities,” and the sound of birds “encapsulates the landscape.” Birdsong is not decoration; it is structure. It is, as he beautifully puts it, “the sound the landscape makes; it is the protein of the landscape that drives it.”
What I appreciated most is that the book refuses sentimentality. Barnes makes it clear that our connection to birds is not metaphorical or poetic indulgence—it is biological. We are linked to birds through shared evolutionary history and shared ecology, bound “both by evolution and by ecology,” but also by something simpler and more intimate: rhythm, melody, and the pleasure of sound. The idea that birdsong resonates with us not because it is pretty, but because it is familiar at a deep, ancestral level, is both humbling and persuasive.
The book also makes a quietly radical claim: that birds are not just an audible background, but creative beings. Barnes argues that birdsong is not fundamentally different from human music, that blackbirds and humans are both “musical creatures,” responding to and making music in their own ways. Whether or not one wants to argue about consciousness or intention, the point is difficult to dismiss: birds create, and we recognise that creativity instinctively. To deny it, Barnes suggests, is as weak an argument as denying creativity in ourselves.
The book is instructive without being intimidating, philosophical without being abstract, and deeply knowledgeable without ever feeling exclusionary. This is not a field guide. It is an invitation to slow down, to listen, and to allow sound to lead understanding rather than follow it. This is not a book that will turn you into an expert on birdsong overnight. But it will change how you inhabit landscapes. And for a birdwatcher who has relied too long on the eyes, that feels like a necessary and overdue correction.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, I loved this book. But I also recognise that my affection comes with bias. There is something deeply comforting in a book that validates your instinct to love birds while simultaneously asking you to love them better.
One of the book’s most powerful ideas, and one that stayed with me, is the insistence that we are never truly alone, because birdsong is everywhere. As Barnes writes, birds are with us “almost everywhere we go, even in cities,” and the sound of birds “encapsulates the landscape.” Birdsong is not decoration; it is structure. It is, as he beautifully puts it, “the sound the landscape makes; it is the protein of the landscape that drives it.”
What I appreciated most is that the book refuses sentimentality. Barnes makes it clear that our connection to birds is not metaphorical or poetic indulgence—it is biological. We are linked to birds through shared evolutionary history and shared ecology, bound “both by evolution and by ecology,” but also by something simpler and more intimate: rhythm, melody, and the pleasure of sound. The idea that birdsong resonates with us not because it is pretty, but because it is familiar at a deep, ancestral level, is both humbling and persuasive.
The book also makes a quietly radical claim: that birds are not just an audible background, but creative beings. Barnes argues that birdsong is not fundamentally different from human music, that blackbirds and humans are both “musical creatures,” responding to and making music in their own ways. Whether or not one wants to argue about consciousness or intention, the point is difficult to dismiss: birds create, and we recognise that creativity instinctively. To deny it, Barnes suggests, is as weak an argument as denying creativity in ourselves.
The book is instructive without being intimidating, philosophical without being abstract, and deeply knowledgeable without ever feeling exclusionary. This is not a field guide. It is an invitation to slow down, to listen, and to allow sound to lead understanding rather than follow it. This is not a book that will turn you into an expert on birdsong overnight. But it will change how you inhabit landscapes. And for a birdwatcher who has relied too long on the eyes, that feels like a necessary and overdue correction.
June 5, 2018
“Eighty percent of bird watching is listening”, I often told my university students whilst we squished through marshes and crept through thickets in search of birds. But sometimes, my students asked how I became so skilled at identifying birds, especially sight unseen, from just listening to them?
Having a fascination with and a passion for birdsong certainly helps, but like any skill, birding by ear takes practice — a lot of practice. One might say it’s a lot of work, except listening to birds is such a pleasure that it doesn’t feel like work at all. But birdlisteners have developed a number of tricks they use to help them memorise and quickly recall the identities of the birds they hear. Quite a few books and audio CDs have been published over the years that describe these tricks with the goal of demystifying this unique blend of science and art.
Those of you who wish to learn this particular skill or who wish to share your joy at hearing birdsong will be thrilled that a new book and podcast has just been published: Birdwatching With Your Eyes Closed: An Introduction to Birdsong by Simon Barnes [2011; Short Books Ltd (London)]. The goal of this book and podcast is to help people become adept at identifying common British birds from hearing their songs. “Learning birdsong is not just a way to become a better bird-spotter”, the author writes. “It is tuning in: a way of hearing the soundtrack of the planet earth.”
Thanks to the efforts of the RSPB, this book is accompanied by a few measures of the earth’s soundtrack in the form of a 27-minute podcast filled with the songs and calls of 66 common British birds. This podcast consists of introductory comments by Mr Barnes followed by audio clips of bird songs and calls. The birdsongs are presented in the same order they appear in the book, beginning with the robin’s “thin, sweet song” and ending with the lofty melody of the nightingale.
In the podcast, you learn that great tits have a distinctive “leaky pump song: teacher teacher teacher”, that yellowhammers say “bread! bread! bread! cheeeese …. except they quite often forget the cheese”, “you know summer is on the way when the sky erupts in screams” of swifts, and that dabchicks are often amused by something, giving “a long trilling giggle” — perhaps they are entertained by house martins “blow[ing] many aerial raspberries”? Some birds are helpful, like the blue tit (“i’m. a. blue tit!”) whilst jackdaws announce their arrival by repeating their name “jack! jack!”
Mr Barnes brilliantly captures the essence of each species’ various sounds with evocative descriptions such as the “sweet soporific purring” of the almost-extinct-in-Britain turtle dove, his observation that skylark song is “poured and pelted down on your head from the sky”, that kittiwakes “make a wild call to go with their wild deep-ocean nature”, and that curlews “make the sound of a desolate landscape”.
The podcast compares favourably to those in my audio library, which consists of (nearly?) every English-language birdsong tape, CD and mp3 file published. It is comparable in quality to the classic Birding by Ear series for North American birds. This podcast is free and can be downloaded onto your iPod or burned onto a CD. But if you think this podcast is all you really want, that it would brighten your time at the gym or commuting, think again: the book is a gem. The publisher’s publicity agent told me to limit my review to just the podcast because it was not clear whether I would receive my review copy of the book in time to read it. As it is, the book arrived 36 hours ago (and then I spilled coffee all over it!). But I’ve already read some passages that make me think a more appropriate title for this book is Birding With Your Eyes Closed and Your Heart Open. Here’s just one example of why I say this:
And that was the first passage I read when I randomly opened the book for a sneak peek. All day, I’ve been fighting the urge to drop everything so I can devour this eloquent book in one sitting — not a good idea since I’d promised the publisher I would finish this review today.
The book is filled with short exquisite essays that are just the right length for reading whilst traveling, during coffee break or at lunch, or whilst waiting for a friend. It is even the same size as my pair of Swarovski 10X50s (although it is a good deal lighter), so it fits easily into a rucksack or bag. But be careful: once you’ve cracked this book, you may become a goner. You may not stop reading until the dawn chorus of birdsong greets you as you savour the very last sentence.
NOTE: Originally published at The Guardian on 2 December 2011.
Having a fascination with and a passion for birdsong certainly helps, but like any skill, birding by ear takes practice — a lot of practice. One might say it’s a lot of work, except listening to birds is such a pleasure that it doesn’t feel like work at all. But birdlisteners have developed a number of tricks they use to help them memorise and quickly recall the identities of the birds they hear. Quite a few books and audio CDs have been published over the years that describe these tricks with the goal of demystifying this unique blend of science and art.
Those of you who wish to learn this particular skill or who wish to share your joy at hearing birdsong will be thrilled that a new book and podcast has just been published: Birdwatching With Your Eyes Closed: An Introduction to Birdsong by Simon Barnes [2011; Short Books Ltd (London)]. The goal of this book and podcast is to help people become adept at identifying common British birds from hearing their songs. “Learning birdsong is not just a way to become a better bird-spotter”, the author writes. “It is tuning in: a way of hearing the soundtrack of the planet earth.”
Thanks to the efforts of the RSPB, this book is accompanied by a few measures of the earth’s soundtrack in the form of a 27-minute podcast filled with the songs and calls of 66 common British birds. This podcast consists of introductory comments by Mr Barnes followed by audio clips of bird songs and calls. The birdsongs are presented in the same order they appear in the book, beginning with the robin’s “thin, sweet song” and ending with the lofty melody of the nightingale.
In the podcast, you learn that great tits have a distinctive “leaky pump song: teacher teacher teacher”, that yellowhammers say “bread! bread! bread! cheeeese …. except they quite often forget the cheese”, “you know summer is on the way when the sky erupts in screams” of swifts, and that dabchicks are often amused by something, giving “a long trilling giggle” — perhaps they are entertained by house martins “blow[ing] many aerial raspberries”? Some birds are helpful, like the blue tit (“i’m. a. blue tit!”) whilst jackdaws announce their arrival by repeating their name “jack! jack!”
Mr Barnes brilliantly captures the essence of each species’ various sounds with evocative descriptions such as the “sweet soporific purring” of the almost-extinct-in-Britain turtle dove, his observation that skylark song is “poured and pelted down on your head from the sky”, that kittiwakes “make a wild call to go with their wild deep-ocean nature”, and that curlews “make the sound of a desolate landscape”.
The podcast compares favourably to those in my audio library, which consists of (nearly?) every English-language birdsong tape, CD and mp3 file published. It is comparable in quality to the classic Birding by Ear series for North American birds. This podcast is free and can be downloaded onto your iPod or burned onto a CD. But if you think this podcast is all you really want, that it would brighten your time at the gym or commuting, think again: the book is a gem. The publisher’s publicity agent told me to limit my review to just the podcast because it was not clear whether I would receive my review copy of the book in time to read it. As it is, the book arrived 36 hours ago (and then I spilled coffee all over it!). But I’ve already read some passages that make me think a more appropriate title for this book is Birding With Your Eyes Closed and Your Heart Open. Here’s just one example of why I say this:
Willow warblers … are amazing little birds: so small, such courageous travellers, so sweet a voice, such fierce competitors. It is when you can hear the first willow warbler of the spring and know it for what it is that you have passed the point of no return. You have finished and revelled in chapter three of Ulysses. You have become a birdlistener. You are committed. And once you have done that, you know a lifetime of pleasure lies before you. Once you have cracked the willow warbler, you’re a goner. [p. 135]
And that was the first passage I read when I randomly opened the book for a sneak peek. All day, I’ve been fighting the urge to drop everything so I can devour this eloquent book in one sitting — not a good idea since I’d promised the publisher I would finish this review today.
The book is filled with short exquisite essays that are just the right length for reading whilst traveling, during coffee break or at lunch, or whilst waiting for a friend. It is even the same size as my pair of Swarovski 10X50s (although it is a good deal lighter), so it fits easily into a rucksack or bag. But be careful: once you’ve cracked this book, you may become a goner. You may not stop reading until the dawn chorus of birdsong greets you as you savour the very last sentence.
NOTE: Originally published at The Guardian on 2 December 2011.
April 6, 2022
I picked this book up only as a bird nerd, little did I expect it to be so witty and entertaining as well!
March 11, 2023
I'm cheating a bit here, because I haven't yet finished reading this book, but I wanted to get a review in now so people could go out and buy it in time for the new Bird-Listening year - which naturally starts in late winter/early spring. And yes, before you ask, there is a corresponding website where the birdsongs can be listened-to, since really one can no more describe a bird's song by words than one can use words to identify a piece of music. What can be done - and what this book does well - is describe some distinctive characteristics of each song, together with when and where you're likely to hear it.
The chapters introduce the birds one by one, starting with the Robin, who sings almost all year round and can therefore be heard even in January, when no-one else is about - or at least, no-one else is making much of a noise. We get to eavesdrop something of his life (and it usually is a 'he' who's doing the singing), so that we have some idea not only when and where to find him, but also what he's up to.
Before the next bird is introduced, we are reminded that most of us can already identify seven or eight birds by their sounds. For me, that would be: herring-gulls, cuckoos, ducks, geese, wood-pigeons, crows, magpies and - because they're so distinctive - curlews. Learning some more can't be that difficult, then.
But why listen, and not look? Well, for a start birdsong can be enjoyed without having to stop what you're doing and peer into the trees or reeds. There's also something of a resonance: we, like birds, use sounds to communicate. The songs are meaningful, and even moving. Once you can pick-up who it is that's singing, it becomes like the 'cocktail effect' where you can hear your own name, because it's important to you, in a room full of loud random conversation. Birdsong is part of the spirit of place - it is, as Barnes so poetically puts it, driven by 'the protein of the landscape'.
Now I find myself wondering: is there really more birdsong than I remember from the past - perhaps because the spring lockdown three years ago gave them all a boost - or am I simply more aware of it?
The chapters introduce the birds one by one, starting with the Robin, who sings almost all year round and can therefore be heard even in January, when no-one else is about - or at least, no-one else is making much of a noise. We get to eavesdrop something of his life (and it usually is a 'he' who's doing the singing), so that we have some idea not only when and where to find him, but also what he's up to.
Before the next bird is introduced, we are reminded that most of us can already identify seven or eight birds by their sounds. For me, that would be: herring-gulls, cuckoos, ducks, geese, wood-pigeons, crows, magpies and - because they're so distinctive - curlews. Learning some more can't be that difficult, then.
But why listen, and not look? Well, for a start birdsong can be enjoyed without having to stop what you're doing and peer into the trees or reeds. There's also something of a resonance: we, like birds, use sounds to communicate. The songs are meaningful, and even moving. Once you can pick-up who it is that's singing, it becomes like the 'cocktail effect' where you can hear your own name, because it's important to you, in a room full of loud random conversation. Birdsong is part of the spirit of place - it is, as Barnes so poetically puts it, driven by 'the protein of the landscape'.
Now I find myself wondering: is there really more birdsong than I remember from the past - perhaps because the spring lockdown three years ago gave them all a boost - or am I simply more aware of it?
March 3, 2019
I had previously enjoyed ten million aliens by the same author, and have been getting into birding recently so this was an obvious choice to read. I was expecting the usual attempts at phonetically translating bird songs (which Simon Barnes avoids doing in this book as they are rarely helpful) but the descriptions were more useful the way they were done here. I am grateful to the book for introducing me to the wonderful song of the skylark, which I was later able to identify having read about it and listened to a clip online. Sadly some of the birds in the book aren't as easy to find as they once were, but it is a great way of discovering different bird song even if you might not hear it in the wild.
October 3, 2021
( Format : hardback )
" A matter of life and - well, death. "
OR "No cuckoo is an island"
This is a book to encourage everyone to get real pleasure from their lives - by listening to the soundtrack around them. It is not a dry detail of different bird sounds (there is a link to the birdsong given for this) but is filled with fascinating snippets about birds, music, literature and a general love of simply being part of the world ecological system. It's a book to take pleasure from, one to dip into and enjoy the individual (short) chapters in those odd moments of life. Fabulous.
Recommended.
" A matter of life and - well, death. "
OR "No cuckoo is an island"
This is a book to encourage everyone to get real pleasure from their lives - by listening to the soundtrack around them. It is not a dry detail of different bird sounds (there is a link to the birdsong given for this) but is filled with fascinating snippets about birds, music, literature and a general love of simply being part of the world ecological system. It's a book to take pleasure from, one to dip into and enjoy the individual (short) chapters in those odd moments of life. Fabulous.
Recommended.
April 18, 2021
A wonderful book about the nature and diversity of birdsong, with a superb accompanying podcast. Simon Barnes is a witty and engaging writer. This is a highly accessible book and a timely reminder to put down phone/camera/binoculars and just listen. There is no need for specialist equipment or knowledge, or to travel beyond your garden or local park. On local walks (very close to a motorway) I have heard so many different birdsongs. It does wonders to calm an anxious mind, distracts from tinnitus and is a soundtrack that we can all tune in to for free!
July 30, 2018
Frankly not the book I was hoping for, not the practical key unlocking guide to learning bird song I would like. More interesting for non-birders I would have thought than for those already hooked. Good as far as it went but a little repetitious on why birds sing and whether they are creative musicians or not. Dismissive of pheasants and partridges when pheasants have been part of the landscape for far longer than, for instance, collared doves and Canada geese. Slightly disappointed.
abandoned
March 23, 2022I feel like twelve to fifteen months with this book (plus listening to the current season's birdsong on loop) would be both enjoyable and enlightening for the novice Nature-curious of Britain.
We live in a different part of the world, and not where these species migrate, either. Why it was on sale in my local bookstore is unclear!
Very much worth a try for those in Britain, or due south of it.
We live in a different part of the world, and not where these species migrate, either. Why it was on sale in my local bookstore is unclear!
Very much worth a try for those in Britain, or due south of it.
January 4, 2023
A fantastic book. Even better than his "How to be a bad birdwatcher". This book conveys so much passion about the importance and sheer joy of birdsong that it is impossible to read it and not be moved to want to be a "bird listener". As well as all sorts of interesting observations about bird song, it also provides details on the characteristic songs of all the more common birds you're likely to hear in the UK, helping you to learn to identify them.
January 29, 2025
I have really got into birdwatching recently and get a lot if pleasure watching waders on an estuary or hearing birds in woodland. This book was helpful in getting me to listen properly to birdsong and the idea of starting at the beginning of the year to make things easier is helpful.....but it is just too long! Very waffley in places and I was glad to finish it, which made me sad.
March 11, 2025
My family are raving about the Merlin app which does a brilliant job of recognising bird song using a mobile phone. I decided to use a different approach and this is an excellent book at appreciating why, when and how birds sing. I'm still finding it challenging to recognise bird-call, but lets call it a "work in progress".
May 31, 2025
Very early one morning I heard a sound as if I lived by the seaside. Sure, I saw a pair of oyster cathers once, but they had seemed decidedly lost. I put what I heard up to lack of competence. There - again some other morning. Then, one afternoon, a shrill warning call from the roof of a nearby building made me stop. There they were, a pair of oyster catchers - whose existence would have remained entirely in the dark had I not followed advice from this entertaining book.
March 1, 2017
I loved this. Easy to read and really think this may have inspired me to make this the year I finally start to crack birdsong. And even if I don't I shall just listen and enjoy :-) listened to the podcast at the same time and will be keeping that to hand from for reference too.
May 11, 2021
This is a great idea. Learning about birdsong as a way to identify birds rather than relying on vision. On my walks I often hear birds but rarely get to see the sound-providers. This book has helped me to identify some of those birds and that has brought pleasure.
February 4, 2026
Simon Barnes writes with directness and a light touch, avoiding the overwriting so prevalent amongst nature writers. Easy reading, yet never dull, and packed full of expert knowledge. Of course, trying to learn birdsong Identification from a book is largely futile, but a great read nonetheless.
February 10, 2026
This book is sold for me by the writers enthusiasm and love for the subject which bubbles through on every page .It’s informative but also highly amusing even if some of the descriptions seem a bit wild eg if I were a housemartin I’d sue .overall a reminder of how grateful we should be to nature
April 29, 2019
Though I get the pleasure of birdlistening for hours everyday for my job, I still found this so helpful and enjoyable and enlightening.
October 28, 2022
Liked his passion but didn’t really learn anything
January 12, 2025
Beautifully written and full with information and tips.
December 6, 2013
Wildlife is a wonderful thing - a source of spiritual uplift and calm. Which is why it's a shame that some authors feel the need to use books about the subject for the purpose of sending their readers on a guilt trip about the state of the world.
Simon Barnes is not one of those authors. Here and there he will briefly mourn the reduction in house martin numbers or the decline of the cuckoo, but never does he attempt to ascribe blame. It's just the way it is, and whether or not there's anything can be done, this is a book about enjoying what we have rather than debating whether we used to have more and if so, why. You can argue about whether that makes his work irrelevant, but the truth is that caring about the environment comes from loving it - you can't write compassion without passion - and a book which turns people onto to wildlife is far more likely to get people to think about the world around them than one whose agenda is to make them feel guilty about being born into an industrial age.
And Barnes' books are great for inspiring that passion. The book, like its bad birdwatcher precursors, is a quick, light read. This is partially because the chapters are short, partially because Barnes' writing style is easy on the eye. Each chapter covers a bird or family of birds, or occasionally a broader issue arising from the previous chapter. Barnes revels in the sounds of birds in much the same way as he has previously taken joy in their appearance and behaviour, waxing lyrical and drawing on poets who clearly felt the same way. It's an infectious tone and makes you long for those early weeks in May when you can walk out into the forest and experience the Dawn Chorus in all its glory.
The book isn't quite as good as the previous installments, however, because Barnes has taken pains to do something different. Fellow naturalists - and Barnes mentions his friend Bill Oddie in this regard - like to teach birdsong through mnemonics: a yellowhammer is supposed to say "a little bit of bread and no che-ese" for example. Barnes mentions them here and there, but largely to tell you that he's not going to use them. Whilst this means he has to be more inventive in his descriptions, it does sometimes feel that he's painted himself into a corner.
Minor quibble aside, this book is still a paen to the wild world and guaranteed to warm a heart held in winter's embrace. Read it by a window with a view of a well-stocked bird-feeder and, for a little while, even seasonally affected disorder will be held in abeyance.
Simon Barnes is not one of those authors. Here and there he will briefly mourn the reduction in house martin numbers or the decline of the cuckoo, but never does he attempt to ascribe blame. It's just the way it is, and whether or not there's anything can be done, this is a book about enjoying what we have rather than debating whether we used to have more and if so, why. You can argue about whether that makes his work irrelevant, but the truth is that caring about the environment comes from loving it - you can't write compassion without passion - and a book which turns people onto to wildlife is far more likely to get people to think about the world around them than one whose agenda is to make them feel guilty about being born into an industrial age.
And Barnes' books are great for inspiring that passion. The book, like its bad birdwatcher precursors, is a quick, light read. This is partially because the chapters are short, partially because Barnes' writing style is easy on the eye. Each chapter covers a bird or family of birds, or occasionally a broader issue arising from the previous chapter. Barnes revels in the sounds of birds in much the same way as he has previously taken joy in their appearance and behaviour, waxing lyrical and drawing on poets who clearly felt the same way. It's an infectious tone and makes you long for those early weeks in May when you can walk out into the forest and experience the Dawn Chorus in all its glory.
The book isn't quite as good as the previous installments, however, because Barnes has taken pains to do something different. Fellow naturalists - and Barnes mentions his friend Bill Oddie in this regard - like to teach birdsong through mnemonics: a yellowhammer is supposed to say "a little bit of bread and no che-ese" for example. Barnes mentions them here and there, but largely to tell you that he's not going to use them. Whilst this means he has to be more inventive in his descriptions, it does sometimes feel that he's painted himself into a corner.
Minor quibble aside, this book is still a paen to the wild world and guaranteed to warm a heart held in winter's embrace. Read it by a window with a view of a well-stocked bird-feeder and, for a little while, even seasonally affected disorder will be held in abeyance.
October 30, 2016
Close your eyes and a whole new world opens up. I had been a bird watcher for over 30 years before I realised how much I was missing. A ranger leading a walk in our local park pointed out the bird song along the way and it suddenly struck me that there was so much more going on than I could see. I came home bursting with enthusiasm, trying to download bits of bird song off the net and find out more. This little book came highly recommended and does not disappoint. There are no dry descriptions here, rather a series of essays following the changing pattern of birdsong from winter into spring, and then summer, the tone is light and the style easily readable but there is plenty of information to get your teeth into. The podcast which can be accessed via the web (I could not get it downloaded) is excellent, giving a brief burst of song for each of the featured birds and a short explanation – I listen to it in the car, I have listened to it a good few times now and it is starting to sink in. I am not especially musical an I think this makes it difficult for me to pick up changes in tone and pitch but if even I can pick out wrens, robins, great tits and chaffinches now, then anyone can.
July 7, 2014
A companion book for me this spring as I took my first steps as a bird-listener. The tone can be a bit over-instructional at times - suspect this is to do with how the publishers are pitching it - but if you can get past this, it's full of interesting stuff. Barnes is very knowledgeable and, when he allows himself to fly, a great writer.
More on how I used the book on my journey into birdsong at: http://www.thesecretlifeofgod.net/
More on how I used the book on my journey into birdsong at: http://www.thesecretlifeofgod.net/
June 4, 2015
This book will definitely help you start bird listening. It methodically steps you through the birds you'll first encounter in the winter and then to the easier, more prominent birds of the spring. By the end of it your ear will be fully attuned to the wonders of the bird world. I wish I had had it when I was starting to learn bird song.
May 28, 2016
Really enthused by this book to go out bird listening. Very much like his un-stuffy, genuinely enthusiastic tone. Clearly journalistic efficient style of writing - which makes it very easily readable - but genuinely inspiring too. Not that bird listening is easy... Chiff Chaff!
March 15, 2016
Excellent introduction to listening to and learning birdsong!
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