Jane Austen, one of our great English writers and an authority on matters of the heart, once observed that, in courtship, ‘the man has the advantage of choice, woman only the power of refusal’.

The same can be said of the bird kingdom. In spring, birds—from mighty ospreys to garden robins— turn their sights to the business of breeding. Much like in Jane Austen’s time, the rules of romance are strictly observed. A female might find herself courted in a number of ways: a serenade, a dance, or the giving of a gift, like the kingfisher’s delicate presentation of a fish. Then, once the male has declared his intentions, it’s up to her to accept or refuse.

I once watched a male osprey return to a nest in southern England, where these birds had once vanished from the landscape. He had flown ahead of his mate from West Africa to claim their territory and awaited her arrival. When she appeared, he wooed her with gifts of sticks and shiny fish until she seemed satisfied with his devotion.

Courting birds often use visual cues, with more glamorous males coming out on top. The extravagance of the peacock’s tail, which offers little protection from predators, was evidence to Darwin that it must therefore be appealing to the female. Many birds can also see on the ultraviolet spectrum, which makes some colours glow vividly—like the blue of a blue tit’s crown (the brighter the better).

Along with gift-giving and looking gorgeous, another route to a female’s heart is through performance—be it an impressive vocal range or elaborate dance.

I was creeping through a thicket one day in early spring when a sound of such richness exploded from the thorny branches. The nightingale’s song is unmistakable: a heart-piercing performance of different sounds, hitting notes both high and low in a combination of complex phrases. It’s easy to appreciate how a bird with such vocal abilities must be in tip-top breeding condition. Sadly, nightingale numbers have plummeted by 90% in the UK in the last 50 years.

My final focus brings us back to the ballroom, where all the best romances play out from <em>Persuasion </em>to <em>Grease</em>. Now’s the time to watch for the alluring dance of the great-crested grebe. What begins with tentative head-shaking and bill-dipping builds to the pair’s wonderful weed dance.

But there’s one bird that outperforms them all with an aerial ballet that few get to witness: the hen harrier. On a windswept hill somewhere, right now, a silvery male will be twisting and turning through the air, its wings opening and folding, its body rolling as it climbs and dives, chattering in an urgent attempt to charm a female hidden in the heather. If he wins her heart, he wins the chance to pass on his genes.

So, while Austen may have lamented a lack of female agency, had she looked to her garden finches or the singing starling, she might have been encouraged to find that female choice, in fact, holds the power to perpetuate life itself.