I was hoping to hear my first Skylarks of the year but was instead entertained by a little posse of Reed buntings, fossicking for titbits amongst the tall tufts of meadow grasses. If a noise alarmed them, they’d flit up to a higher vantage point, on a branch of Field rose or the twigs of a nearby tree, to survey the area and check out its source but, as I kept very still, the birds seemed unconcerned by my presence.