Chiffchaff in Limhamn Limestone Quarry — the name alone is enough to charm a smile out of me. I met this restless little warbler on a soft, clear morning. Its presence was revealed first by that repetitive “chiff-chaff, chiff-chaff” pulsing through the thorny undergrowth. It’s a song that marks the true beginning of spring in Sweden — before the swallows and before the nightingales. It always makes my heart skip.
Song among thorns – the chiffchaff returns
It’s easy to overlook the chiffchaff (Phylloscopus collybita) with its earthy olive-brown plumage and plain face. But when I followed its voice along the edge of Limhamn’s old limestone quarry — now a refuge for birds and solitude — I found it hanging like a leaf among budding thorns. Each note was a declaration of season and territory.
This chiffchaff was particularly animated, darting between perches, flicking its tail, and calling like a wind-up toy. There’s something oddly theatrical in how such a small bird takes command of the scrub. Despite its size, it knows it belongs — and makes sure everyone else knows too.
The humble marvel of Swedish warblers
The chiffchaff is one of the first warblers to return from its Mediterranean wintering grounds. It often arrives in late March or early April. Its song is unmistakable and endearingly repetitive. It features two alternating notes, chiff and chaff, again and again, as if it’s trying out different versions of the same truth.
It may not have the colour splash of a blue tit or the charisma of a robin. However, the chiffchaff brings another kind of wonder — that of returning, on time, across thousands of kilometres. It sings in precisely the same bush it left the year before.
The Photographer’s View
📍 Limhamn Limestone Quarry, Malmö
📷 Sony A7R V + Sony FE 200–600mm G OSS
⚙️ 1/2000 sec • f/6.3 • ISO 1250
This was a tricky bird to catch in full display — the light was strong, and the branches dense. I had to wait for that perfect pause when it perched against the sky. It had to be separated from the chaos of twigs, with just enough breeze to lift the feathers. I was shooting handheld, moving gently to avoid spooking it. The 200–600mm gave me just enough reach to frame its confident stance without disrupting the scene.
The chiffchaff’s Call to the Flock
Have you heard the chiffchaff’s call this year? Have your spring walks brought you face to face with any of Sweden’s quiet feathered arrivals? I’d love to hear where the songbirds are greeting you.
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