The Dawn Chorus 2026

The Dawn Chorus 2026 took place in May, as it does every year—a special month for bird enthusiasts and numerous citizen science projects. During the Dawn Chorus, early-morning bird songs are recorded around the world, ideally before sunrise. Anyone can take part. I joined in again this year and am sharing my impressions from 2026 here.

The Dawn Chorus

Getting up before sunrise. Heading out into the cold. Sitting in the darkness. Admittedly, this year, especially the first time, I found it difficult to motivate myself to get up early and record bird concerts for the Dawn Chorus. But on that very first morning, I was greeted by a beautiful interplay of common nightingale, Eurasian blackbird, and Eurasian blackcap—and I was more than glad I had risen so early.

As every year, the Dawn Chorus invites volunteers to record bird songs before sunrise. The citizen science project was launched during the pandemic in 2020, when the unusual quietness of the world suddenly made it possible to experience birdlife in a particularly intense way.

Since then, the Dawn Chorus has continued to evolve. There is now even a dedicated app that is constantly being improved. However, I do not want to go into detail about it here—the best way is simply to try it out for yourself.

Although recordings can be submitted from all over the world, most bird concerts still come from Germany. This is hardly surprising, as the project was originally launched here (screenshot taken on May 17, 2026, from the Dawn Chorus webseite).

This year, the recording period began as early as April. As a result, the Dawn Chorus now spans not just one month, but two.

What makes this citizen science project special to me is the combination of nature observation, technology, and art. Science and education play just as important a role as a genuine appreciation of nature itself.

Of course, advancing knowledge and raising awareness of the bird world among both children and adults is important. But the Dawn Chorus achieves something else as well: it invites people to pause, listen, and experience nature more consciously. That is exactly what makes this project so special to me.

As every year, I record bird concerts in two parks in Berlin: Ernst-Thälmann Park and Anton-Saefkow Park. In each park, I make one recording on a weekday and one on a weekend to better observe the differences between the two.

In the following sections, I will report on my recordings and share some of the observations I made during them.

The Dawn Chorus 2026

Bird concerts in Ernst-Thälmann Park

When I set out towards Ernst-Thälmann Park at around 4:15 a.m., I was greeted by a wide variety of bird calls. Common nightingales, Eurasian blackbirds, and Eurasian blackcaps were particularly prominent. Together, their songs formed an impressive, almost orchestral soundscape.

As in previous years, I followed the same path down to the pond. There, however, the acoustic environment changed. The birdsong did not necessarily become quieter, but it became different. Several hooded crows were perched in the trees, calling incessantly, and their harsh caws overlaid the finer songs of the previously dominant songbirds, pushing them into the background.

A Eurasian blackcap tried nonetheless to make itself heard.

But that was not easy. It was a Sunday morning: hooded crows were cawing in the trees, and police and ambulances were passing by. The tram was also rattling along the street with its usual noise. Perhaps the entire environment seemed particularly loud to me precisely because I was listening so closely.

Nevertheless, the Eurasian blackcap did its best (photo: Eurasian blackcap in Berlin’s Tiergarten Park).

The hooded crows’ concert did not let up.

I made a recording every ten minutes. Even ten minutes later, it was still only the hooded crows cawing—no other birds could be heard anymore. I could still make out the tram, and right at the beginning of the recording there was also the sound of an ambulance.

In my final recording as well, hooded crows still dominated the soundscape, even though they seemed to calm down somewhat over the course of it.

By the end of the recording, however, house sparrows could still be heard—and a common moorhen. The app was not yet able to identify the latter (photo: common moorhen chick in Ernst-Thälmann Park).

As I made my way home, house sparrows became more clearly audible (photo above: house sparrow in Volkspark Friedrichshain). The hooded crows had by then calmed down.

In a bush, I finally heard the common nightingale much more distinctly (photo bottom left: common nightingale in Ernst-Thälmann Park). I even saw it—the photo, however, was taken on a different day. High up in a tree, a Eurasian blackbird was also singing (photo bottom right: Eurasian blackbird in Volkspark Friedrichshain). I made a brief audio recording of it as well.

Overall, the day promised to be a very pleasant one. When I went outside early in the morning, the sky was still cloudless but cold—around 4°C. As the day went on, a few clouds appeared, but it remained mild. On that Sunday, sunrise was at 5:07 a.m.

Speaking of sunrise: the Dawn Chorus app now also indicates the best recording time for a given location. For the following Tuesday, it suggested a time window between 3:20 a.m. and 6:04 a.m. I went out again precisely within that period to record bird calls on a weekday.

This time, I was greeted by a great tit (photo: great tit in Volkspark Friedrichshain).

When I arrived at my observation spot, I immediately noticed that it was significantly quieter than on Sunday. At first, I became aware of the numerous bats flying over the pond.

Although hooded crows could also be heard in my first recording, they were nowhere near as loud as before. In addition to a hooded crow, I could also hear a Eurasian blackbird, a Eurasian blackcap, and a common wood pigeon.

At some point, I heard rustling in the bushes to my right. What could it be? Shortly afterwards, I spotted a rat that seemed to be searching for food.

In front of me, four mallards landed on the pond—all of them males. They then moved across the water in a V formation. A great spotted woodpecker was also active; I could hear its calls repeatedly. Overall, however, it was noticeably quieter than at the weekend, which I found unusual.

Suddenly, a Eurasian blackbird began singing behind me. Since it was very close by, its song can be heard even more clearly in my third recording. How beautifully it sang! A Eurasian blackcap also seemed eager to compete with it.

At one point, a common moorhen (photo: common moorhen in Ernst-Thälmann Park) called loudly into the blackbird’s song, briefly breaking the calm atmosphere.

At the same time, the bats gradually became fewer and fewer.

Fortunately, house sparrows were audible again—along with the vocal Eurasian blackbirds and Eurasian blackcaps.

By around five o’clock, the bats had disappeared—or at least I could no longer see any.

The birdlife also gradually became a little quieter. In my second-to-last recording, the Eurasian blackcap was no longer quite as vocal as before. House sparrows, on the other hand, were now much more continuously audible. A Eurasian blackbird could still be heard as well, along with a hooded crow.

In my final recording, the hooded crows became somewhat louder again, though nowhere near as loud as on Sunday. Right at the beginning, a great tit can also be heard. House sparrows remained present, as did the Eurasian blackbird. The Eurasian blackcap, however, seemed to have withdrawn somewhat.

Otherwise, the day promised to be a pleasant one. The sky was cloudy but not completely overcast. It was also no longer quite as cold as before—the temperature was around 8°C in the morning.

Bird concerts in Anton-Saefkow Park

At the end of May, I took part in the Dawn Chorus 2026 again, recording bird calls before sunrise on both a weekday and a weekend. On both days, however, there was noticeably less birdsong than in previous years. This may also have been because I made the recordings only towards the end of the month. Ideally, I should capture the early morning bird concerts as early as possible in May. In fact, it would be best to make the recordings on the same calendar day every year. However, since weekdays and weekends shift from year to year, I eventually stopped paying close attention to that detail.

Nevertheless, it was still May. On the first recording day, a weekday, the sky was cloudless and my phone showed a temperature of 9°C. Sunrise that morning was at 4:52 a.m.

Overall, it was surprisingly quiet. Only one bird seemed to repeat the same call tirelessly again and again.

Was it perhaps a short-toed treecreeper? A common nightingale was only audible for a brief moment, but the treecreeper seemed to sing tirelessly throughout the entire recording—and even before and after it.

To make sure, I asked the Naturblick App for help. And indeed, it confirmed my suspicion (photo: short-toed treecreeper in Volkspark Friedrichshain).

The short-toed treecreeper, along with the other birds, was overall much quieter on my recordings than in Ernst-Thälmann Park. By the end of May, the early morning bird chorus already seems to be noticeably subsiding.

In the background, great tits could still be heard. Eurasian blackcaps occasionally made brief appearances, and hooded crows were also present. A Eurasian blackbird called out from time to time, while pigeons had already begun their morning cooing.

Shortly before my second recording, I also heard the first common swifts. However, I was only able to capture them in the third recording. This time, the great spotted woodpecker was much more reserved and only made itself known briefly just before the third recording began. Still, its presence was unmistakable.

During my fourth recording for the Dawn Chorus 2026, I could hear house sparrows in the distance. They were therefore also part of the early morning soundscape.

Now and then, a mouse darted past in front of me. I paid it little attention, as my focus that morning was entirely on the birds.

Shortly before my final recording, I heard a Eurasian jay for a brief moment. This seemed quite plausible, as I have already observed Eurasian jays several times in Anton-Saefkow Park. Other species, such as the short-toed treecreeper, interestingly enough I have never seen there—although I hear it regularly.

At the end of my final recording on that weekday, a great spotted woodpecker made itself heard once more with its characteristic call (photo: great spotted woodpecker in Berlin’s Tiergarten).

On the following Sunday, the last day of the month, I went back to Anton-Saefkow Park. That morning, sunrise in Berlin was already at 4:49 a.m. Everything suggested it would be another sunny day. Even early in the morning, the temperature was already above 10°C.

I reached the park about five minutes later than planned and therefore started my first recording as quickly as possible. And who could be heard again?

The short-toed treecreeper.

From the very first seconds, its song was clearly audible once more. It seemed to be one of the most active voices in the park that morning as well.

It was another very quiet morning in terms of birdlife.

Although the tram did not seem particularly loud, it was still louder than the birds. In my second recording, the short-toed treecreeper continued to sing.

From time to time, I could hear a common nightingale here and there, but always only for very brief moments, just as on the other day. Great tits, Eurasian blackcaps, and pigeons were also present. And of course, the vocal—and in my opinion rather too loud—hooded crows.

In my third recording, a Eurasian blackbird finally joined in as well.

I made two more recordings, but overall it remained very quiet.

Common swifts were again audible high above me. Here and there, hooded crows and great tits could also be heard.

The common nightingale, however, was anything but eager to sing that morning. Still, I had a very special experience with this bird. Suddenly, a common nightingale emerged from the bushes and began foraging for food directly in front of me on the ground. It noticed me but did not fly away. I tried to stay as still as possible—holding a camera in my hand would probably have led to a different reaction. This way, I was able to watch it slowly hopping around in front of me, searching for food in the ground. Seeing a common nightingale in this way was something completely new to me. It was a beautiful moment.

Nevertheless, the morning remained quiet overall. The bird concerts would probably have been much more impressive earlier in the month. But even these recordings have their value. I hope they help the organisers of the Dawn Chorus 2026 to better understand birdlife and the singing behaviour of different species.

More information

Did you take part in the Dawn Chorus 2026, or have you participated in previous years? Feel free to share your experiences in the comments.