AS a work of natural history writing, the Twelve Days of Christmas leaves a lot to be desired. Swans do swim, I’ll grant you, and seven might choose to do so together, but geese would never lay eggs in December, there is no such thing as a calling bird and no self-respecting partridge would ever perch in a pear tree.

What called this song to my mind so unseasonably was the fact that very early one morning near the end of June I saw half of the creatures mentioned in the second verse – by that I mean just one turtle dove.

I could tell that it was a male bird, not from its appearance as the sexes look identical, but because he was singing and only male birds advertising their territories do that.

I say “singing”, although “purring” would be a better description; the nearest similar sound I’ve heard is the ringtone of a 1970’s trim-phone, for those that are old enough to remember them. This very distinctive song is what gave the bird its original name in pre-medieval times. “Turtur” was its label then which later became “turtle” with “dove” an even more recent addition.

My singing male was sat on a branch near the top of a tall, dead tree at Bickley Gate in Dalby Forest, a fact that I noted when marking his exact position onto a large-scale map. I did this, not out of extreme natural history geekiness, but because I am taking part in a survey jointly organised by the North York Moors National Park, Forestry Commission and Howardian Hills AONB.

The North Yorkshire Turtle Dove Project was instigated in 2016 because of serious worries about the future of the species. Turtle doves are in serious decline across the whole of Europe and are virtually extinct in the north of England … except Ryedale and The Great Yorkshire Forest where they may be doing better than in other areas.

Ornithologists are keen to find out what it is about our neck of the woods that suits the birds so that they can try and replicate the same environment elsewhere.

For a long time it had been thought that numbers were decreasing because of persecution in southern Europe. Turtle doves only spend the summer with us in the UK (oops, there’s another flaw in that Twelve Days of Christmas song).

During the winter they spend their time in the tropical climes of Africa, coming north to us in spring and returning in autumn. It’s during these migratory journeys that they run the gauntlet, with hundreds of thousands of them shot or trapped for sport or the pot every year as they pass through the Mediterranean countries of Europe. Malta is a particularly hazardous stop-off venue.

Despite these staggering mortality figures, recent research has indicated that other factors may also be important. Given the choice, turtle doves feed almost exclusively on wildflower seeds and these have been in short supply in some of their African wintering grounds due to more frequent droughts and hugely reduced in northern Europe as a result of modern farming practices.

It’s agricultural weed-controlling pesticides that are causing the problem and over-enthusiastic roadside verge cutting hasn’t helped either.

If you are keen to see one of Ryedale’s celebrity birds then there are three options open to you. For the super-enthusiasts, get up at dawn when the males like to sing and wander along any local track bordered by tall hedgerows and/or woodland, listening out for purring.

For the less adventurous, go somewhere where there are famously lots of turtle doves, like Sutton Bank Visitor Centre or Lockton village, and ask a local to point them out.

The third option is open to everyone – just keep your eyes peeled as you drive around our country lanes. If you see a collared dove, examine it closely; if it seems smaller and more of a russety colour than normal and has a long black tail with a white border, it’s probably a turtle dove.

Happy hunting. Email sightings to conservation@northyorkmoors.org.uk