Picture: red admiral butterfly. Click here for autumn and winter bird photos. For more information and sound clips of the birds mentioned here, see the RSPB website.
Once the foliage falls away it is much easier to see birds – though not very easy, as they are still nervous and liable to fly off if they see any human watching them. Bird noises give you little help in locating them, as they are very minimal in November - along with October, the lowest level they get to all year.
The only organised song comes from robins, where both males and females actively defend their territories throughout the winter – though even they are fairly quiet at this time of year, heard perhaps two or three times in a day at best. They also sometimes make a clicking noise which sounds a bit like a ratchet turning. This is supposed to be an alarm call but sometimes seems to be simply territorial.
Otherwise the main sounds are contact calls between sociable birds. Most active in this respect are great tits, one of whose calls is a double cheep followed by a churring sound, another being a kind of “see-choo-choo”. You may also hear them make occasional bursts of their see-saw mating song, though these never last long.
The explanation for this and other snatches of mating songs that you hear at this time of year (with the exception of robins, as mentioned above), is that it is first year males practising. By instinct they only know part of their song, and need to learn and perfect the rest before the next mating season.
Blue tits also make a churring sound to each other as they feed (rising in note at the end, while that of the great tit does not), and very occasionally burst into their mating song (or something approaching it) - a single note, rapidly repeated.
In addition you can occasionally hear the chaotic babbling of goldfinches - usually high up in the tree tops, where they are surprisingly hard to see as they peck away at the bark - or the high-pitched squeaks (almost inaudible unless you have young ears) and rasps of long-tailed tits, which look like hyperactive balls of fluff as they flit restlessly among the branches.
Among more solitary birds, dunnocks give the odd high-pitched tseep (though this is hard to distinguish from a similar sound made by great tits), sometimes repeatedly, and very rarely might sing a brief snatch of their squeaky mating song. You get the occasional sudden outburst from a wren, recognisable as a flurry of notes with a trill in the middle, though sometimes in November you don't hear the trill, proving that it is a first year male practising.
Nuthatches now and then make a "wit wit wit" (or "de-dit de-dit") call, and you can hear the chik...chik... call of the great spotted woodpecker. Very occasionally there is a loud outburst from a green woodpecker - either a full mating "yaffle" or a flat-toned version of it.
Near buildings sparrows cheep (usually from inside a bush), though they are a lot less vocal than they are at other times of the year. At dusk blackbirds may make a repetitive "tup tup tup" sound to ward off predators or rivals, the latter possibly including members of their species who have flown in from the continent to take advantage of our milder winters.
From 2009 to 2011 song thrushes were also in full voice throughout November, to the bafflement of scientists. That has not been repeated, but it is not unusual to hear a song thrush practising its riff quietly (or not so quietly), often (though not exclusively) in the second half of the month. Again, these are first year males honing their repertoire for the spring mating season, when the more variations they can do, the more attractive they will be to females.
It is also just possible to hear a mistle thrush in the second half of the month: they traditionally sung from December onwards, but are fairly rare these days. There is also the occasional coo from a collared dove, stock dove or wood pigeon (again probably practising), and in 2020 and 2022 wood pigeons started singing quite widely towards the end of the month. Rarely you might come across the incongruously summer-like sound of a lark practising its song over an arable field.
If you see a flocks of birds in a hedgerow, they may well be starlings. Our native population is boosted in winter by migrants from Eastern Europe who come here for our milder winters, and they feed on the remaining berries, as well as insects and grubs in bare arable fields. They collect into larger flocks at dusk, and if you are lucky you can see them wheeling in the sky in unison before roosting, a phenomenon known as a "murmuration". This was once common over our cities and fields, but is a rare sight these days. However, one reliable place to see it is on Brighton Pier, where as many as 25,000 starlings may roost each night.
Jackdaws and rooks also feed in huge (200 birds or more) mixed flocks on arable or pasture fields, and congregate in nearby trees. They then gather at dusk in big noisy colonies to roost in a favoured stand of trees (for example by Lewes station).
If you see a flock of thrushes, then these are fieldfares or redwings – colourful relatives of our native birds, who arrive from Scandinavia in late October to overwinter. These may be seen in fields or in large chattering groups in trees, but are easier to spot later in the winter when they become more adventurous (or perhaps desperate...) in their feeding habits and sometimes come into suburban parks. Our native thrushes are never seen in flocks.
Other flocks you may just see include siskins, a migrant yellow finch found in woodland, especially on alder trees. Do not confuse these with yellowhammers, which also in theory live in flocks at this time of year, as do chaffinches and linnets, though all these are now rare sights in our nature-depleted world. Small groups of meadow pipits also come to the south to overwinter from further north in the UK.
At night in or near woods this is a good time of year to hear tawny owls, which are finding mates and establishing territories - including driving away their now grown-up young. Apparently both sexes can make the "kewik" noise as well as the characteristic "hoo-hoo-hoo hoo", but a kewik followed by a hoo-hoo-hoo hoo (always with a four second gap between them) is a female answered by a male.
Towards dusk on woodland edges you can also hear the noisy clucking of pheasants as they settle down for the night, something which they do all the year round but which is more noticeable as the nights draw in.
Insects
You may think that there are no insects around in November but you would be wrong. Look carefully on windless days (particularly late in the afternoon in the light of the setting sun) and you can see small swarms of winter gnats. If can fix them with binoculars or other magnifying instruments (not easy!), you will see that they are rather amazing creatures, like miniature crane flies or mayflies. There are in fact ten different species of them in the UK, and they are doing their mating dance, the males swooping up and down to attract the females, having evolved to do so at this time of year to avoid predators.
Every other species also has to have a strategy to get through the cold months and populate the world anew in spring and summer. Some - for example, woodlice, spiders, crane flies, ladybirds and shield bugs - lie dormant in a cosy place, such as under a log or in leaf litter. They are not actually hibernating, a term which only applies to mammals. Instead what they are "diapausing": shutting off their metabolism entirely, though if they are disturbed it instantly starts up again. With all these insects, if you or unusually warm weather wake them up, simply leave them alone they will soon go back to their state of suspended animation.
Some butterflies - peacock, small tortoiseshell, brimstone, comma and some red admirals - also diapause as adults: Second World War pillboxes are apparently one favoured spot as are garden sheds. It is not impossible to see one still flying around in early November - particularly for some reason a red admiral. Quite a few other butterfly and moth species spend the winter as diapaused caterpillars - one of the things the great and blue tits are looking for as they feed.
Insects also overwinter as eggs, larvae or pupae - or as a fertilised queen in the case of bumble bees and wasps. Honeybees remain closeted in their hives, living off the stores of honey they have built up over the summer. It is just possible that on a mild sunny day you might see any of these on the wing. Hoverflies or late surviving worker wasps may also crop up, most likely early in the month around ivy, but sometimes much later. The occasional fly can be seen on sunny days throughout November.
Dragonflies should be long gone by now, but it is not impossible to find one still surviving in a sheltered spot if the weather is mild - the common darter being one of the possible species.
More November pages:
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