One of my favourite times of day is sitting quietly in the distillery garden with a cup of coffee, listening to the early morning chorus around me. Sat low to the ground amongst the herbs, alliums and flowers, the birds tend to overlook you. After a while, you stop being a threat and simply become part of the landscape, at that point everything changes.
There is a quietness in the garden that feels increasingly rare in modern life. The air still carries the coolness of the night. A light dew clings to the herbs and the first warming rays of sunlight catch the tops of the plants as the garden slowly wakes. Apart from the birdsong, everything feels still. Peaceful. Almost grounding in a way modern life rarely allows.
The Blackcaps are usually among the first to appear, darting energetically through the juniper, carefully picking insects from the branches. Restless and fast-moving, they flick between stems and bushes in short bursts of movement before vanishing again. The juniper itself feels alive with activity. Every branch seems to hold some small drama if you sit still long enough to notice it.
The Dunnock is far more cautious. A shy bird, often seen moving in pairs, creeping slowly through the plants trying to work out what this strange new feature in the garden might be. It darts between stems and foliage, always keeping one eye fixed on you as though deciding whether you can be trusted. Watching them becomes a quiet game of “can you see me?” One moment visible. The next completely gone.
The robin, naturally, behaves as though he owns the entire place. Bold, confident and utterly unbothered by your presence, he hops closer and closer, puffing himself up indignantly as if demanding you leave his garden immediately. Nearby, the finches bicker endlessly over the food table, scattering seed everywhere while trying to outshout one another, with the sparrows, tits and woodpecker patiently waiting for an opening.
Above it all, the young blue tits line the branches calling constantly for food as exhausted parents race backwards and forwards. Yet the best sounds come from higher in the canopy where four young tawny owlets sit hidden amongst the leaves, their distinctive calls drifting across the garden while they impatiently wait for the adults to return. Even future predators begin life demanding attention and food like everything else in nature. Some things never change.
For all the talk of productivity and rushing through life, these mornings are a reminder that the natural world moves to its own rhythm. Sit quietly for ten minutes and you realise you were never really missing anything important indoors.
