Waxwing

Bombycilla garrulus

As Mariah Carey once sang: “All I want for Christmas / Is a nice local flock of waxwings”.

Waxwings don’t take well to being wrapped, and are best enjoyed outdoors, where we are likely to hear them make their rather wonderful call - a soft but penetrating trill.

It’s a like a whistle from a football match or a rave that’s been slowed down until it’s reached a cosmic resonance.

Waxwings - to be precise, Bohemian Waxwings, the kind we see in Europe - like to make this sound when perched and when in flight. Which is very generous of them, as it can alert us to their fabulous but sometimes discreet presence.

There’s not much mistaking a Waxwing on looks. They’ve cleared been styled by a high-end Italian fashion house.

But their habits? More down to earth.

I saw my first Waxwing in a Tesco car park. Waxwings are well-known for hanging around car parks and suburban developments, drawn by those red berries that appear on the pyracantha and cotoneaster bushes so beloved of municipal landscape designers.

Although they’re not tiny (a similar size to a starling), and boast undeniably snazzy looks, a small party of Waxwings, intently guzzling fruit, can be easy to miss.

Familiarity with the trill can lead to some surprise encounters. Easily my best ‘while-putting-the-rubbish-out’ bird was a Waxwing that flew across our garden one December morning, not to be seen again.

Most winters, the majority of us in the UK will go without a Waxwing. But in some years larger numbers arrive from across the North Sea in the late autumn. And once they’ve had their way with the east coast’s red berries, birds spread inland, sometimes reaching as far as Cornwall and Ireland by the end of the winter.

So keep an eye on the berries, and don’t turn up Mariah so loud that you’ll miss those cosmic whistles.