Reflections | Birdsong | 9 October 2026
There is something about birdsong that asks us all to pause. A call from a hedge, a flutter beside the canal, a small movement among the autumn leaves: suddenly, the place we are passing through becomes somewhere worth attending to.
Tomorrow, Saturday, 10 October 2026, October Big Day invites people worldwide to celebrate the birds around them. Everyone is welcome. You can take part as simply as spending ten minutes watching from a window, walking through a park, or listening in the garden. Merlin Bird ID can help you identify birds and offers ways to explore species likely to be nearby.
For me, birds also inspire poetry and hymns. Their voices, movements, colours, and presence offer ways into writing about the world: its beauty, its vulnerability, and the life continuing around us while our thoughts are elsewhere.
Sometimes that inspiration begins with sound. A bird’s call draws my attention to rhythm, repetition, or the space between phrases. Sometimes it begins with an image: wings above water, a bird resting on a bare branch, or a small creature holding its place against the wind. Such moments can become the beginnings of a poem, or find their way into the language of a hymn or reflection.
In my writing for NeuroDivine, I often return to the sacred encountered in ordinary places. Birds belong with that attention. They have lives of their own, quite apart from whatever meaning I might find in them. Watching them closely is a reminder to let the world speak before rushing to put words around it.
A kinship exists here between watching birds and writing. Both ask for patience. Both reward a willingness to notice. A familiar path can yield something unexpected when we stop long enough to look or listen.
October Big Day offers a simple invitation to practise that attention together. Save your sightings in Merlin and share a favourite discovery using #OctoberBigDay. No need to make an expedition of it; the birds near home are part of the celebration too.
A few minutes of watching might give a familiar song a new name. Perhaps they will leave you with an image that stays with you long after the bird has flown.
And perhaps, somewhere in that encounter, a poem or hymn will begin.
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