Country diary: a woodland walk to the dawn chorus

Wiggonholt Common, West Sussex: The nuthatch hops around, searching the ground, before launching high into a tree above me, where it starts to sing

Dawn passes barely perceptibly in the damp darkness of the wood. Rain is falling, dripping through the canopy, forming thin, cold cascades of droplets pattering on the mud below. I turn a corner and stop - a nuthatch is drinking from a pool on the track, raising its pointed bill to gulp down the water. With its black eye-stripe, blue-grey back and bright orange underparts, the bird is a flash of colour in the grey woodland.

When it has finished drinking, the nuthatch hops around, searching the ground, before launching high into a tree above me, where it starts to sing, trilling loudly. It interrupts its song now and again to hammer the bark with its bill, digging up grubs and insects. After swallowing, it sings again, my presence barely disturbing its routine.