‘We’re basically pornithologists,’ Eric joked. ‘It’s our job to record bird sex.’ The avian orchestra began limbering up pre-dawn, teasing its audience with the eerie sound of echoing doinks as the sky turned from black to blue. By the time the rising sun had painted the surrounding snow-clad mountains pink, I was able to make out a bunch of black shuffling blobs in the distance. The show had begun and it would not disappoint.
