The dawn chorus began at three this morning – a single blackbird testing the silence. The tune was taken up by all the other village blackbirds. They were soon followed by the song thrushes. One perched on our roof, another on a neighbour’s greenhouse; the thrushes belted out their rousing choruses, like duelling opera stars.

As the sun stirred, the sound of skylarks drifted from the bean fields: a spinning, whirling tornado of notes that doesn’t seem to end. Reports are coming in from around the world that we’ve never heard the birds sing so loudly. People are revelling in the de-stressing gift of birdsong.