In spite of the westerly gales, in sunny glades I felt a sense of calm as I watched Pied Flycatchers singing incessantly among the new Oak leaves. I flushed a Woodcock from a Bluebell bed; I assume they breed here. Redstarts, Spotted Flycatchers and Willow Warblers added their notes to the chorus, but alas no Wood Warblers this time.
Two male Pied Flycatchers were defending adjoining territories and did not stop singing in the entire time I watched them. They flicked about in the Oaks and Birches, often remaining motionless, listening to their rivals singing, when they were hard to spot, their black and white plumage blending perfectly with the branches silhouetted against the sky.