It took many years (and a not a small amount of pleasure) before I had to concede that I was not really a night person. Perhaps it is a consequence of the ageing process but I wake with the dawn and the riotous chorus the local avian fauna provides. There is some residual song from the nightingales, those that I suspect are nurturing a second brood, but the current most impressive choristers are the families of golden orioles that fly to the side of the fig tree facing from…