Woke the girls at 5 in the morning one Sunday to go out on a field trip. Our ostensible goal to hear the dawn chorus, our secret mission to disrupt routine. So, armed with a thermos of hot tea and binoculars, we drove down to Ufton Fields, a woodland reserve south of here. The sun had just risen when we arrived, and while we heard thrushes and their kin everywhere in the high trees, they were hard to spot. The sound was magic, though.