This month, your prompt is to see with your ears.
Several decades ago, I had the great pleasure of learning about birds from a lovely fella named Dave. He was passionate about birds, and I loved how his gruff voice and sometimes surly attitude didn't quite line up with his immense passion for anything avian. I was in my late teens when I first started attending his workshops. He'd play bird songs from his cassette tape recordings, and we'd dutifully take notes and try to memorise the songs.
Dave was also hard of hearing thanks to a lifetime of working with loud machines. He taught me how to see with my ears. I learned how to judge how far away a bird might be, and in which direction. When we went out birding, I had an easier time hearing the high pitch chirps. I'd give a direction and distance, and he'd help me find the source with my binoculars and assign a name. Sometimes, he'd chastise me for hearing birds when they were still too far away.
Today, I carry thousands of bird songs on my phone, thanks to the app Merlin. Thanks to the wind on Dartmoor, however, I can often hear the songs better than Merlin can. It reminds me a little of birding with Dave. I can hear what the professional cannot see.
As the season nudges along, I'll learn to recognise regulars at various spots along the route. The stonechats are active once again along the fence line, and I'm already anticipating the wheatears and swallows. If I'm lucky this year, I may even see the cuckoo and curlews. To start, though, I'll see with my ears.