"The steep sided slopes around Lake Vyrnwy are cloaked in trees, areas of which are ancient oak woodland. Over hundreds of years these oaks have provided the perches for generations of birds to sing from creating a rich collection of songs and calls which over spring combine into the dawn chorus.

Finding a good position to record this performance in the dark is tricky, so the evening before I have a walk and listen to find a suitable location. I don't just want a dawn solo from a bird that's too close, the chorus is really about a full range body of sound where individual songs melt and mix together into one powerful voice. I find a small clearing and mark the spot.

In position by 0430h and all is quiet. There is a low rush from a stiff breeze blowing down the lake and up into the hillside. This is a sound which swirls through the leaf canopy above. 0445h and far off across the water I hear the familiar hoots of a tawny owl but this is out of earshot even for my microphones, technology is good but our ears are better in circumstances like this.

In our busy noisy world we hardly ever get the opportunity to focus on sounds and really listen, but given the opportunity, like this, it can be a powerful and stimulating experience. This predawn hush has all the expectation of a concert hall before the orchestra strikes the first notes.

0510h and quietly, at first, a single robin breaks the ambience with a few liquid, silvery notes, it has begun. Within moments another robin answers from across the clearing, as those notes fade a song thrush repeats it's strident phrases below me on the slopes.

I look up and dark knarled branches of oak and beech are silhouetted finger like, against the sky. In the blue grey light of dawn this looks like a cold place, but the sounds in my headphones are exhilarating.

The chorus quickly builds momentum and depth, gathering pace and intensity. Soon individual bird song is hard to locate, the woodland is awake and there is sound all around, this is the dawn chorus.

All the resident birds are in good voice and just before 0600h they are joined by a newcomer, a chiff chaff. This is a migrant bird which may have flown from sub-saharan Africa and arrived in this woodland after dark to begin singing at first light.

The chiff chaff is onomatopoeic, it's simple song cutting through the lower tones of the resident thrushes, and a surprising conclusion to the morning's performance."

Article written by Chris Watson