The Singing Gentlemen

Out there in forests and woodlands,the great dawn chorus would have struck up: a combination of rock,jazz,classical,rap,hip-hop and sheer joie-de-vivre that can leave you reeling. High over the fields,small skylarks flutter in great circles like moths,singing non-stop,before parachuting to the ground only to repeat the whole performance.

So why do some birds display this enormous enthusiasm for life early every morning? Some basics first. It’s only the gents that sing,especially when the testosterone surges; the ladies criticise,judge,devastate and may at times be thrilled. The men sing for two main reasons: to make the ladies go weak in the knees and to fob off any rival males from an area,which they have claimed as their own.

Not all birds sing; of the 9,000 species,approximately 4,000 are deemed as “songbirds”. These have specially designed voice boxes or syrinxes and amazing breath control to enable those fluting notes to come pouring out in a never-ending stream. Young males are born hot-wired with a basic template of their species’ song but must learn melodies from their elders and improvise as they grow.

They sing early in the morning,because that’s when it’s usually very still so their song carries far. They also let the world know that they’re alive and well,and in possession of their territory and haven’t been taken by an owl or snake or cat during the night.

As for the girls — they’re born with specialised critical faculties. They listen and if they are impressed by what they hear,they accept their serenading suitor. If a guy can spend most of his time belting it out — and has a complicated repertoire too — it means he’s obviously living in clover and doesn’t need to spend too much of his time digging worms out of the ground. So he’s worth cozying up to,it’ll be good for the babies.

Some guys,of course,are admirable skanks. One magpie robin I met in Goa,sang different melodies from different perches within a certain area (including a swimming pool),pretending to be three different males,and so was in control of property far in excess of what he might have been able to control as a single fellow. Any prospecting male surveying the territory would have concluded that the area was fully occupied and would have moved on. I believe,the girls were either taken in or impressed by this display of underhand cunning. (Not all scientists,however,agree with this explanation.) Other especially talented Lotharios will win over one girlfriend; tuck her away safely in a nest and then serenade another!

There is,of course,a difference between bird calls and birdsong. Bird calls are short succinct notes made by both sexes to communicate: “watch out,there’s a shikra (bird of prey) around”; “yes,I’m a chiffchaff and not a willow warbler even though we both look the same,so there is no point chasing me”.

Songs are long liquid streams of melody produced by males in the breeding season and need to be learned and rehearsed.

So who are the maestros and who are the duds? Well,I have a personal awards list – for both birdsong and bird calls,as follows.

Best classical flautist in the city: the magpie-robin

Best hill-station songsters heard so far: the blue rock thrush and the streaked laughing thrush,especially their opening notes just after a thunderstorm

Best awara city troubadour: the brahminy starling

Best city rockstar: the purple sunbird (has flashy scarlet armpits too!)

Blithest country singer: the small skylark

The “Bose speaker” award: the Indian prinia and tailorbird for weighing around 5 gm and hitting 90 decibels with ease

Loudest,lunatic songster: The great barbet. (Yodels in Kasauli and you can be deafened in Shimla)

Best lyrics: The Indian cuckoo: “One more bottle! One more bottle! One more bottle!”

(Salim Ali had picked the shama and the grey-winged blackbird as his favourites.)

Now you keep an ear out and make your own top-of-the-pops list; it really is worth getting up early for — and certainly better than jogging.

Ranjit Lal is an environmentalist and bird watcher