I have a confession to make. I once wrote, in this very column, about my five least favourite birds. (I know, it’s like saying you have a least favourite child. I’m sorry, OK.) At number four on the list, sandwiched between meadow pipit and wood pigeon, and just behind greylag and Canada geese, was the greenfinch (Chloris chloris). In my defence, birders often disparagingly labelled this species the “grotfinch”. But that was when they were so common they dominated our garden feeders. Then, a decade or so ago, came the crash, when greenfinch numbers plummeted. It turned out that they were especially vulnerable to trichomonosis: a nasty disease these sociable birds caught from eating contaminated food. For a few years, I hardly saw or heard one in my Somerset garden; and, to be honest, I missed them. Then, three or four years ago, I heard a sharp, wheezy call, followed by that distinctive, rattling song. The greenfinches were back. Today, they are a constant soundtrack of spring and early summer, not just in the garden but down on my coastal patch as well. I’m glad they managed to recover, though their rapid decline is a timely warning that we should never take any species for granted. It is also a salutary lesson to me to see the best in any bird, however common and familiar. Though I could still live without Canada geese …