What did we do to deserve this? Nothing, and yet the birds still sing for us, celebrating the arrival of another spring. And foremost among them – the song thrush. For a fortnight now, a song thrush has been hurling its rousing whorls of melody over our village. Sometimes he calls in full view from the high, dandling branches of the ash tree. At other times, he takes up a bold, exposed position on the apex of our rooftop. Occasionally, he hides in the arms of the cherry tree.