All the little birds go cheep cheep cheep

My biggest concern on buying our new home -- other than the imminent collapse of the global economy that it signalled -- was road noise. Specifically, noise from the M3, which is less than a mile away. And on wet days and when the wind is coming from the south-west, you can hear it. However, it is largely a distant drone, drowned out by the sounds of suburbia: lawn mowers mowing, dogs barking, children swearing creatively as they walk to school. Most of all, it is drowned out by the noise of the birds -- hundreds of birds. They hang about in the allotments behind, eating the new plants and the bits of old carpet that provides weed cover. There are blackbirds, thrushes, chaffinches, blue tits, fat pigeons, and huge crows. The crows particularly delight in landing on the dormer roof of our bedroom and then stomping up and down it. The dawn chorus and the related stomping start up at (approximately) 4.45 a.m. -- and delightful though it is, I wish they'd just leave it until 7.45 instead. Noisy little blighters.