A lyrical celebration of birdsong, and the rekindling of a deep passion for nature.
"At this time of year, blackbirds never simply fly: instead, like reluctantly retired officers, they're always 'on manoeuvres', and it's easy to see from their constant agitation that for them every flower bed is a bunker, every shed a redoubt and every hedge-bottom a potential place of ambush"
As the world went silent in lockdown, something else happened; for the first time, many of us started becoming more aware of the spring sounds of the birds around us. Birdsong in a Time of Silence is a lyrical, uplifting reflection on these sounds and what they mean to us.
From a portrait of the blackbird - most prominent and articulate of the early spring singers - to explorations of how birds sing, the science behind their choice of song and nest-sites, and the varied meanings that people have brought to and taken from birdsong, this book ultimately shows that natural history and human history cannot be separated. It is the story of a collective reawakening brought on by the strangest of springs.
A timely book now that we’re finding our way back to normal life. Steven Lovatt muses on how birdsong seemed to be more prolific during lockdown. At the very least, the quietness of our city streets made us more aware of it and made it easier to enjoy it without the intrusion of city noises. His research into the physics of birdsong and the behaviour of our garden birds is interesting and I enjoyed learning more about the birds around me. I found the language laboured and self consciously cultivated at times, however, and that detracted from my overall enjoyment. Having said that, this would be a lovely gift for a keen birder.
With thanks to NetGalley and Penguin Books UK for a review copy.
During the UK’s first lockdown, with planes grounded and cars stationary, many remarked on the quiet. All the better to hear birds going about their usual spring activities. For Lovatt, from Birmingham and now based in South Wales, it was the excuse he needed to return to his childhood birdwatching hobby. In between accounts of his spring walks, he tells lively stories of common birds’ anatomy, diet, lifecycle, migration routes, and vocalizations. (He even gives step-by-step instructions for sounding like a magpie.) Birdsong takes him back to childhood, but feels deeper than that: a cultural memory that enters into our poetry and will be lost forever if we allow our declining bird species to continue on the same trajectory.
Mentions of current events are sparse and subtle, so the spring feels timeless, as it should. I worried there might be too much overlap with A Sweet, Wild Note by Richard Smyth, but there’s room for both on your shelf. Lovatt’s writing is introspective and poetic, delighting in metaphors for sounds: “The song of a turtle dove is like the aural equivalent of a heat-haze, the gentlest corrugation of air, always just on the edge of your hearing.”
Lente 2020 - een lente die we nooit zullen vergeten door de lockdown. Het leven viel stil, het achtergrondgeluid van onze haastige maatschappij verstomde, natuurgeluiden en natuurbeleving namen de vrijgekomen plaats in. Zo-ook voor de auteur van dit boek. Als knaap was hij een verwoed vogelaar, en tijdens de periode van noodgedwongen stilstand, herontdekt hij de vogels, en wat meer is: hun lied. Doorheen dit boek exploreert hij de lente en de verschillende vogels en hun geluiden, bekijkt hun broed- en andere gewoontes, bespreekt de evolutie van hun lied naarmate het seizoen vordert en plaatst deze geluiden ook tot zijn herinneringen. Dit boek doet ons realiseren, en wijst er ons ook op, dat we onlosmakelijk verbonden zijn met deze dieren. In vervlogen tijden waren zij de verkondigers van de lente, van veranderingen in het weer, ze toonden waar er voedsel te vinden was. Deze band is grotendeels verloren, maar tijdens de stille periode van 2020 was er opnieuw de verbondenheid met hun lied, dat vreugde en troost kon bieden. Dit boek heeft me extra aandacht doen schenken aan het geluid van de vogels, ik beschouw ze nu minder als aangenaam achtergrondgeluid, maar meer voor wat ze zijn. Ik herken ook al meer vogelgeluiden en ik hoop dat ik dit zal blijven meedragen. Van de lockdown herinner ik me vooral de stille nachten en de bloemenexplosie in mijn tuin die ik toen dag na dag kon observeren. Veel hebben we niet geleerd, het lawaai en de haast zijn meer dan ooit terug, maar ik probeer toch nog ergens dat geschenk van de stilte dat de lockdown ons gaf, te bewaren.
A wonderful book about birding during the 'lockdown' of the Covid pandemic. It has been a joy to read as the author uses metaphors to describe birdsong during this unique period of quiet. But it is not just about birdsong, but about history and culture and much more. I smiled and even laughed out loud, something I've not done much of during the pandemic restrictions. I have been uplifted, also challenged to help continue my own efforts to make this a better world for nature and for humans to live on it. A delight to read!
Birdsong in a Time Of Silence is a beautifully written, almost poetic, book about birds and their songs, something many of us have noticed so much more this past year. With lockdowns and shielding, for some of us the only link to nature available is the birds in our gardens.
This book clearly shows Steven Lovatt’s love of birds, I loved reading about his childhood memories evoked by the simple sound of a bird singing, from the alarm calls of a blackbird to the knife grinding of the magpie.
It also tells of their feats of endurance during migration, the effects of climate change and the destruction of many bird habitats. All mixed with interesting facts for n just how a bird sings, their physiology and habits.
The author has a beautiful way with language and his way of using metaphors to explain what he means, makes this an interesting and totally engaging read. An absolute joy to read.
This was a wonderfully relaxing and insightful book, as the author looks back at a strange old year - 2020! - and how it affected the way we interacted with birds and wildlife given that so many of us had more time at home, and more hours to notice the sounds coming from our gardens, parks and woodland areas.
For the author, the sound of birdsong evoked many happy childhood memories and I could totally relate to that. Even as I read the book, I sat out in my garden listening to the many varieties of birds that visit the very well stocked bird tables I provide! And it's that connection with birds that I enjoyed so much about this book. It explores different types, their characteristics and the amazing stories about migration and their battles for survival.
In lockdown the world was a much quieter place - oh to have that back! - with less traffic on the roads, no planes in the sky and the author picks up on each season through the last year and how that affected the wildlife around us and how we interacted with it, given that we were exploring local areas more and spending more time noticing the little things in life we took for granted and often ignored!
It also touches on climate change and how that is affecting the various species, along with the destruction of local habitats - as I read the book, I could hear a neighbour hacking back a shrub much loved by a large group of sparrows - and it really shows how important our actions impact on that of the bird populations.
I have learned so much from this book and it has also helped me appreciate visits from our feathered friends and to do more to make sure they continue coming! It also brilliantly sums up the experiences of the past year and how that has made more of us connect with nature and our surroundings. I just hope that many don't forget about the joys that our gardens and wildlife have bought us over the past year and that they will start changing their ways to help wildlife a little more - I have my doubts but there is hope!
The author has a beautiful way with words and it was just a pleasure to read from start to finish!
Like many other people, I found myself hooked on the birdsong that suddenly became so much more audible during that first, weird lockdown during the beautiful spring of 2020. For that reason, I was keen to read Steven Lovatt's book. There is much to recommend it, from it's admirable brevity, it's fascinating description of the physiology of birdsong and the description of the characters of particular species of bird (though I did find some of the descriptions and comparisons just a little long-winded and unconvincing!) However, what I was really hoping for was an in-depth analysis of the impact of birdsong on humans, whether with regard to dreams, myths and legends or mental health, but unfortunately, this aspect was only really covered seriously in the penultimate chapter. Nevertheless, this is a pretty good summary of one man's fascination with British bird life and is, in places, rather beautifully written.
A delightful, soul-curing little book. A memorable lesson on how to be more attentive and responsive to the beauty around us. I loved how its lyricism highlighted humans’ connections to birds and birdsong so gracefully. I would love an audiobook featuring the birdsongs he describes :)
This started well for me, and its description of the sudden foregrounding of birdsong during Lockdown 1 invoked a kind of early nostalgia, as it has for many others. Then, after some poorly developed argument about the nature and purpose of birdsong- how apparent creativity couldn’t possibly be explained by selection or evolution - I started to lose sympathy with the author, and rather tired of the relentless barrage of ‘poetic’ metaphors. I enjoyed some of the facts, the insights into bird behaviour, nesting, and the role of birdsong. But it is entirely feasible to find something beautiful and numinous, and still acknowledge its prosaic origins. Indeed, to exalt the former without accepting the latter feels vacuous and self-indulgent, and that I think is the crux of my difficulty with this book.
This is a joyful book about the pandemic. Yes, really. It's about that man-made silence which descended on the Northern hemisphere last March, when lockdowns and birdsong began simultaneously. And we all noticed, even those who'd never knowingly listened to a bird in their entire lives. Lovatt had enjoyed birds as a boy, but it took the pandemic to re-kindle his interest. He's good as describing he birds he loves - the sounds, songs and croaks they make. He's good at weaving poetry, folk lore, science and myth to look at a history of birdsong in the life of man. It's been charmingly illustrated too, by Katie Marland. Perhaps it's not a great book, but it's a good book, and an evocative one, and perfect if you want to read something timely, yet uplifting too.
This was a beautifully written book about the gift of birdsong, something which we all take for granted daily, but actually brightens the darkness of humanity.
Lovatt takes us through a range of bird species and their birdsong, explaining the science behind how the noises are made, why birds sing and who they are singing to. The book is informative yet stimulating and interesting. I love it when a book keeps sending me to google or youtube, just so I can hear a jay singing, look at the markings of a chaffinch or listen to the difference between a house martin and a swift!
A truly lovely book and one which is much needed, celebrating the wonder of nature.
For bird and nature enthusiasts, like myself, this was a great read! Written at the beginning of Lockdown 2020 when the earth fell silent and human behaviour came to a halt. Being a time for reflection and perhaps when we stopped to take note of our surroundings and notice the sounds, calls, chatter and splitters of birds. A time I’ll always remember, a time for hope.
Interesting wanderings and ponderings on British Birdlife and what birds mean for us as individuals, as a society and culturally. Lovatt takes us on his local birding walks and ponderings during 2020 and the first year of covid lockdowns in the UK - a strange time in itself, and with time it is so easy for us to forget just how intense it was. As he writes himself, "Humans have short lifespans and shorter memories..." (p131).
And in the start of the covid lockdowns the world did go very quiet and we could hear the birds better. Apparently it was a bumper year for nature.
"Right at the end of July it's reported that the sudden decline in human activity during the pandemic has been registered by seisomologists as a wave of silence passing over the earth, its course exactly following that of the virus."(p 130)
And now for my fun bird fact that I learned from this book. Willow warblers (little bird, could sit in the palm of your hand) fly non stop coming to the UK from Africa. That's 5000 miles non stop for a tiny little thing under its own steam, in a few days. My mind is boggled.
Lovatt reflects on the way the world changed during 2020; as everything came to a halt in our everyday and we found whimsy and hope in the glimpses of nature we finally had time to acknowledge and appreciate.
2020 marked the year I went full knees deep into my nature / wildlife interest. Watching the birds flying about, the squirrels climbing up trees and mushrooms growing in the weirdest of places. I indulged in what I previously thought I’d only get to do later in life and Lovatt explains why this was and the connection that nature and birdsong has with the innocence of childhood.
A slow paced book packed with information weaved with Lovatt’s own thoughts and interpretations / perceptions of bird behaviour and the changing world around us.
Subconsciously, I must've wanted to read this to help cover to terms with it being almost exactly two years since COVID-19 changed all our lives. This book charts the author's rediscovery of the birds and birdsong of his neighbourhood during the 2020 lockdowns. His descriptions of his tentative walks, avoiding neighbours and taking new paths for variety, capture such a strange time, juxtaposed with the soothing, regardless birdsong that many of us took real notice of, for possibly the first time. In fact, I could've had even more if this reflections. A short book; it is perfect Spring reading as the birds start arriving, nesting and singing outside our windows.
The author Steven Lovatt explores the theory on how birdsong seemed to be more prolific during lockdown. We became aware of it more due to the quietness of our streets and roads and we had time!. He lays out full research of birds, their behaviours and songs. A really interesting and thought provoking book. My thanks go to the publisher, author and Netgalley in providing this arc in return for a honest review.
This book was ridiculously well written! Very niche to people who enjoy reading about birds and birdsong, but really interesting take on silence during the early part of the pandemic and the return of birdsong. Lovatt comes up with the best metaphors and similes!
A reminiscent wonder through the early months of the pandemic when heightened anxiety reigned our lives, but amidst it all was the juxtaposed impenetrable calmness and stillness of a forced resubmergence in nature.
Lovatt describes well the birdsong of the year and weaves in the analogies and memories of his childhood, however, the book itself has only a faint narrative and for me lacks the ties that could bind so many parts together.
Birdsong in a Time of Silence by Steven Lovatt is a wonderful collection of essays, nature observations, musings, and reflections that was truly a pleasure to read.
My son has been actively learning and exploring birds, birdwatching, and well anything bird related, so I have been learning quite a bit through different podcasts, lectures, books, and nature walks. This was a wonderful book to add to my learning curve.
I have found that over the last year that while I have always loved being outdoors for daily walks and runs, I have really enjoyed it even more so. I have been more observant, listening more, honing in my skills to find, identify, and decipher different birds, their sounds, their nests, and their daily activities. I found that through isolation with COVID (except for work as I work in healthcare), I truly do appreciate nature even more so. It was a pleasure to find similar sentiments in what Mr. Lovatt has written in this book. His reflections, thoughts, feelings, and all that he is able to translate in what he sees, hears, and experiences was such a wonderful comfort. His ability to reflect in writing what he was experiencing was a joy. He definitely has a true talent. He should consider adding a regular outlet or podcast. I think it would be well-received.
I feel rejuvenated and relaxed after reading this book and highly recommend it.
5/5 stars
Thank you NG and Penguin Press UK/Particular Books for this truly wonderful arc and in return I am submitting my unbiased and voluntary review and opinion.
I am posting this review to my GR, Bookbub, Amazon, Instagram, and B&N accounts upon publication which is 3/4/21.
“But for years now I’ve watched the swifts grow fewer, and in a grim inversion of the happy expectancy of summer visitors that ought still to be normal, I’m aware that on some level I’m already steeling myself for a time when I may no longer hear them at all.”
‘Birdsong in a Time of Silence’ is a non-fiction book that flows like a novel, packed full of memorable lines such as the quote above on the decline of migrating birds and bird numbers as a whole. However this isn’t a book about climate change, it’s a 150-page love letter that weaves tales of a devoted, bird-obsessed childhood with a pandemic spent rediscovering that love via observations and government-approved walks.
In ‘Birdsong in a Time of Silence’, Steven Lovatt has created an uplifting and captivating read and one that I whole-heartedly recommend this autumn, now that the season of thick jumpers and a good book is upon us.
I've read a number of things that were initiated during the Covid lockdown, and this is my top favourite. It's really like a small collection of rather beautiful essays, starting in March 2020 and then following the seasons, and the birds. The theme, as the title suggests, is birdsong. But it's birdsong in a year when there was time to stop and listen. It's about listening. And about stopping and thinking.
I do listen to birds. With a small number of exceptions, I rarely know which is which. I love them anyway, especially the ones in my garden. Every now and again I go and listen to YouTube videos to re-educate myself, but it never works. I loved Tweet of the Day on Radio 4 and if it were left to me, would have kept that going forever. As it was, I listened attentively, and then forgot, one by one, which sound was which bird. They have such an amazing range!
One thing I know: Steven Lovatt puts the sound of birdsong into words better than anyone I have ever read, or heard on the radio. And something about the way he does it, is utterly engaging. It's perhaps that he is so very interested himself, so loving in his detail -- it makes you want to get out there and listen more carefully. Here's a bit of blackbird from the second chapter:
"I'm calling it a whistle, but this word not only misleads in its usual connotations of cheerfulness, but also fails to do justice to a sound that seems not to come from the bill at all, but rather suggests an emanation of barely checked fury that has its source in the bird's very pith. It's less a sound than a lode of malice made briefly audible, like scalding steam seething through a crack in the earth. It's ventriloquial, and more felt than heard, as if a shadow had suddenly been thrown across the blithe chatter of the spring wood."
Didn't that make you want to hear it? Didn't it make you realise how much you're missing, even if you thought blackbirds were as familiar as a nursery rhyme?
The book is a slow read. It's not driven by narrative, it's full of detail and observation, and sound. So if you are able to slow down (as many of us did during the Covid lockdown), it's precisely the right kind of work for slow reading, rich and generous, careful and musical. The author clearly loves language, and paces his phrases, his similes, his expression. Writes like a poet, in fact. Or like a poet should, if a lyric really was a song.
At the very end, he includes a handful of poems about birds, or featuring birdsong. Edward Thomas's 'Adlestrop', for example is one of them, the one that ends "all the birds / Of Oxfordshire and Gloucestershire". But although these poems evoke birdsong -- call the idea into the poem -- they don't recreate it like Lovett himself. I'm not convinced that poets are really good at getting birdsong into poems, though they are certainly keen on birds. Remember Robert Browning, for example, (not one of the poets Lovett includes) and his famous thrush in 'Home Thoughts from Abroad' :
That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over, Lest you should think he never could recapture The first fine careless rapture!
It's accurate, and it picks up a key memorable detail about the bird. But can you hear that thrush?
But Steven Lovatt -- with more space and time in prose -- uses words like no poet I have read. Better, by far, on birds. And when he comes to the thrush, he describes both birds -- the song thrush and the mistle thrush and the difference between them. The song thrush creates a sound that is "dark gold, but also pliant, as if it had some greenness in it, urgent, yet in its doublings-back and expectant pauses also seized by self-doubt. It's a dark confession, full of ecstasy and sobbing, played on a high-strung lyre."
So what about the mistle thrush?
It is "a different thing altogether. [...] There's nothing of darkness, gold or green about the mistle thrush song; instead it's high and silver and somehow always far away. In fact it's a strange thing, but you can be standing right under the tree in which a mistle thrush is singing and still it sounds like it's coming from the other side of the world, or from the gates to the otherworld itself, or at any rate it's not addressed to you, insignificant mortal that you are. Song and mistle both clearly speak thrush, but the former scribbles it down in passionate, desperate handwriting, while the latter engraves its notes on the air in Times New Roman."
This is good writing. Humbling, really.
And doesn't it accomplish its aim? Doesn't it make you want to go out there, and listen?
This book was written in response to the first COVID-19 lockdown in the UK. when restrictions meant that our streets were much quieter and people became more aware of nature, particularly the sound of birdsong. In this book, the author uses his own lockdown observations of birds in his local area as a way into considering the function of birdsong in helping birds to defend a territory and find a mate and also the value that we gain from birdsong - as well as there being a basic enjoyment of birdsong, clinical studies have shown listening to birdsong has positive impact on people's mental health and wellbeing.
There is also an interesting discussion on whether birdsong can be, strictly, considered as music, centring on the observations that 'some species can improvise as well as any jazz musician.' and that some birds sing just as beautifully even after the breeding season is over, demonstrating that the song is more than purely functional.
Bird vocalisations are divided into calls - short, purposeful vocalisations with specific intent such as contact calls and alarm calls - and song - the more extended, expressive vocalisation used to mark territory and attract a mate. Some birds never seem to sing, the corvids (crows) for example. But the author makes an excellent argument for jackdaw vocalisations to be considered song due to the wide range of sounds they use to converse in.
While lockdown opened a lot of people's ears to birdsong, the numbers of many of the UK's birds have been declining significantly for many years. "Many of the species that would have defined the start of summer even a generation ago are either absent altogether or so depleted for it to be a case of 'out of sound, out of mind'. And these losses are not just an ecological tragedy but also affect humans and our sense of our place in the world. The author notes that "on some level I'm already steeling myself for a time when I may no longer hear [swifts] at all" a sentiment I share, as I'm aware that year on year, fewer swifts are to be seen flying around our Edinburgh neighbourhood.
The text is illustrated with beautiful line drawings by Katie Marland.
This is a beautiful book for anyone who loves listening to the birds and wants to know more about their musical abilities.
I received a copy via Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.
This is a fine enough book - it's well-written and Lovatt's passion for birds comes across very clearly - but I just didn't like it that much. I think part of the reason is that the central narrative/argument already feels quite cliche to me. I've read a lot about how people listened to birdsong in lockdown, reconnected with nature, became more concerned about the environment, etc. If you're going to turn that into an entire book rather than a twitter thread or blog post, I think you need to bring something new to the table - and this book just didn't. Instead, it consistently played safe and delivered exactly what you'd expect. As a person who is not interested in birds that much and who had a very different experience of lockdown (I spent most of the pandemic in various crappy flatshares with minimal access to nature), I couldn't relate to most of it, and it felt like Lovatt wasn't trying to convince me much. This is a book about a suburban dad who rediscovers birdwatching during lockdown, aimed at other suburban dads who (re)discovered birdwatching during lockdown and feel nostalgic about it, and that's... pretty much it. While I learnt a lot of details about bird behaviour and birdsong, I don't feel like my perspective was fundamentally changed.
I think part of the issue is that I've read a lot of nature and conservation non-fiction lately, and I'm beginning to find the genre a little underwhelming. Stronger books of this genre have a strong thesis, offer a new perspective on nature, and are making a genuinely important point. They also appeal to readers who might have a different experience of the world, but can nonetheless find something worthwhile in these books - for example, English Pastoral brings the perspective of an author from a traditional farming background in the Lake District, makes an important point about the decline of traditional farming practices, and I connected with it on an emotional level despite me having nothing in common with the author. Birdsong in a Time of Silence is a decent book and a pleasant read, but it doesn't really achieve any of those. I think plenty of people could read and enjoy it, but for me, it lacked impact somewhat.
Birdsong in a Time of Silence is, on the surface, about rediscovering a love of birdsong during the “silent” months of the pandemic. But (luckily) this turned out to be much more about birds and less about the pandemic itself. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind reading pandemic-centred books – quite the opposite, really – but at the same time we’re so long past the isolation and global stand-still of that first year that it sometimes feels like an entirely different life (oh the glorious naivité of thinking we’d never go back to our polluting, destructive ways), and such books can easily feel outdated.
Books about birds, however, will never feel outdated, and especially ones that are well-written and preferably slightly witty too. Lovatt’s book check both boxes. His scientific and factual knowledge and insight are communicated in a delightfully inventive way; as he himself points out, some of his metaphors for explaining bird behaviour and sounds can get rather creative. And usually, I don’t enjoy simile- and metaphor-heavy writing, but Lovatt’s use of both is so clever, and even at times hilarious, that it was a major contributor to my enjoyment of the book. Not to mention that he’s a really skilful writer, which is not necessarily a given in nature writing. Be mindful that it IS a fact-focused book, though, so if you’re not into that kind of nature writing, maybe steer clear of this one!
My expectation for this book was of a nice how-people-rediscovered-birds-during-lockdown kind of book. Warm but nothing outstanding. Instead I got a real treat about birdsong and the best descriptions of bird songs and behaviours that I've ever read. The author focused on the most common birds he found on his walks or around his home and, if you know the birds, the descriptions were beautifully done and absolutely spot-on. It made me laugh at times, the same way birds often make me laugh. The language was poetic but I never found it inaccessible, as a non-native speaker. I especially liked the long section about the blackbird because it's one of my favourites and a bird with such a rich repertoire that we know well but don't always pay enough attention to (at least in books). Lastly, it was sad to read about how in 2020 we had hopes for things to turn around in the way we went about the world and treated nature. Feels like the age of innocence, seen from 2022.
This book starts at dawn on the first day of the first 'lockdown' of the Covid pandemic in the UK, on 24th March 2020. It sets out to describe the birds, their songs and other behaviour, that the author encounters near his urban home during this 'time of silence', when the near absence of traffic on the ground and in the air brought birdsong (and other natural sounds) back to the prominence that they would have enjoyed in pre-industrial times.
I expected to enjoy it, as a reflection of my own renewed enjoyment of bird sounds during that spring. Indeed, Lovatt has a pleasant writing style and a good turn of phrase. The trouble is, he doesn't really have enough material to make an entertaining book. So this seems to become a kind of 'mind dump' of everything he knows about birds and birdwatching, most of which I already know from my own birding career. By about halfway through the book, I was bored.
The penultimate chapter brings partial redemption with interesting reflections on why birdsong is so important to us, but, on the whole, there is a lot of nature writing about that is a great deal better than this.