In these strange times, potentially bogged down in a cycle of Netflix comedy repeats it would be easy to contemplate Phylloscopus collybita as a phrase used to raise a tongue-in-cheeky rambunctious smile or two. For instance in the Fast Show, “Phylloscopus collybita… hmm suits you sir”, a 1960s Tony Hancock sketch, when visiting his doctor with severe bellyache as 'a touch of collybita', or indeed a classic Carry On film. I can just imagine Charles Hawtrey announcing it, and Kenneth Williams retorting in his characteristic nasal aside “I’d do something about that if I were you!”

Well usually I do. I mean I usually do something about it. Around this time of year to satisfy my craving for a dose of Phylloscopus collybita – the common chiffchaff - I have a wander through gardens, parks and woods and immerse myself in its viral spread.  It's a contagion I embrace. A prescription and a cure from the winter blues. The emergence of chiffchaffs engenders a deeply satisfying joy rather than a forced TV smirk, as they signal the onset of warmer weather. Flying in from West Africa weighing less than two teaspoons of sugar these fluffy bundles herald spring tidings of life-affirming delight. They are a proper little biophilic catalyst.

The charm of the chiffchaff lies in its subtlety. It is what it is. Undemonstrative, unpretentious unassuming, an all encompassing understatement. The chiffchaff eschews the heavy mascara preferred by another vernal avian harbinger, the dapper moustachioed wheatear, for a more refined delicate eyeliner.  The wheatear displays its more obvious charms and boldly proclaims “Look at me, you seen how far I’ve flown just to sit on this fence post for you? …a round of applause might be nice.” However, the chiffchaff gets on with scouring the underside of leaves for aphids, spiders and other insects, hence Phylloscopus (‘leaf seeker’), often furtively out of visibility at the tops of trees. The males pioneer for territories and signal their arrival with a delicate rattling of loose change hence collybita, the sound of money clinking. None of this end-of-the-pier show repartee espoused by the summer arrivals; the screaming swift and the outrageously beautiful swallow prancing about in an Edwardian frock coat; the winged Beau Brummel. If at all the chiffchaff does do a bit of tail wagging but well backstage.

Everything about this graceful warbler whispers style and delicacy, the female creates a nest low down in brambles and nettles with a care and attention to detail lining the dome-shaped cradle with fine grasses and finally with feathers.  Her eggs echo this restrained refinement, rich creamy white, dabbed with small purple motifs… what's not to like?
 

We could learn a lot from the chiffchaff as within all this characteristic humility lies success and survival.  Along with many other bird species chiffchaffs suffered large losses in the 1970s but unlike many migratory birds they have rebounded strongly, increasing in abundance and range within Britain. It`s doing well and that adds to the smiles. That is despite an onerous lifestyle, having to eat a third of its body weight daily to survive, making up to 1500 trips (!) to construct the nest and enduring heavy seasonal population losses through predation from roaming feline assassins, stoats, weasels, and birds of prey. Then its time to depart, leaving our shores from late August through September, flying back to Iberia and Africa in a series of energy-sapping hops.  Life isn't easy but you have to get on with it. 

The common and unpretentious chiffchaff is colloquially known – mainly onomatopoetically - as the huck muck, chip chop, lesser pettychaps, feather poke, or my particularly favourite, lui piccolo (Italian). I make no apology here for anthropomorphising this little gem; we could learn a lot from this survivor; humility for a start. Phylloscopus collybita… indeed it does suit me, sir.

Dave Clark

Dave has a MSc in ornithology and is particularly interested in the interactions of birds with people. He has been voluntarily surveying Sydenham Hill Wood’s birds for 12 years.