Now, as the light slowly lifts and the blackbird stops its insistent song, a silence descends, broken only by the occasional squabble of jackdaws. The damp green of the grass is a soft carpet outside my window but no bird bobs, hunting for worms in the soft soil. The big birds are here, the collared dove repeating its soft, soft call looking for a mate. In the grey blue of this dawn sky the dark shapes of birds fly out of vision and the jackdaws and collared doves stand like sentinels on the rooves and chimneys watching for what? Then gone in a moment leaving the silence of nettles and daffodils to sing their no-song: