Birdwatch: A song thrush connects me with the great-grandfather I never knew

No other bird speaks to us quite so directly, its serenade conjuring memories of old family tales I wake early on these bright summer mornings. And now that the birds in my garden have mostly fallen silent, only one is still serenading me at this hour: the aptly named song thrush. Its measured, deliberate repetitions – which this particular bird has provided without a break since the turn of the year – are unmistakable. Whenever I hear a song thrush, I’m taken back in time. First, to my child...

By Stephen Moss