It may have escaped your attention that we’re now firmly in a Hong Kong spring. For this you can be forgiven because this season is somtimes a bit of a tricky one here -it sometimes disappears altogether. A few years ago (2006, I think), we went from a freezing cold January to a humid and hot mid-February and that was pretty much it until the end of November. There are, however, certain features about a Hong Kong spring that, as long as the weather is benign, make it one of the nicest times of year.
For a start, the trees begin their new growth. Some trees continuously grow throughout the year, but the Country Park between February and April can be a riot of verdancy and that means the colour of the hills changes from a darker to lighter energetic green –some leaves may also be initially yellowish or purple.
Many a-tree is in flower charging the air with poetic scents, some light, some the consistency of heavy syrupy, a change from winter’s more earthy moulds. It's the time for Lantana flowers (a bit of a weed here, but very pretty and one which monkeys and dogs -and even people- love eating).
This new tree growth, of course, brings with it many of the insects, which of course means dinner for the birds who can then start building nests, laying eggs and defending territory –and that’s the awsome vocal display you can hear each morning right now. The Hong Kong dawn chorus is as good as that anywhere, but the variety of birds, and by implication their songs, gives the Hong Kong forests that added audible life that can, at times, be almost deafening.
If you live in Hong Kong you will undoubtedly have heard the Asian Koel, not so much with the dawn chorus but the entire previous night giving its repetitive "ko-el" sound, especially when it's really, really quiet. I'm surprised this fairly large blue-black-brown bird is not extinct because of the infuriating hours lost to human sleep.
Another pre-dawn 'favourite' is the Common Hawk-Cuckoo, the damned "brain-fever" bird. This one continues all-night... and all-bloody-day! 
Then, after your night's disturbed sleep, it's time for all the little birdies to give it a go. Hong Kong has a pretty good share of small avians that stay all year, such as the Crested Bulbul which has a little punk-like crest, as it's name suggests, red cheeks and vent. It's warbly song is a little repetitive, but loud enough to get you out of bed. 
There are Chinese Bush Warblers, tiny, tiny birds that sing a refreshing little phrase, Magpie-Robbins, Black-faced Laughing Thrushes, the delightfully named Hwameis and Black-Necked Starlings -which are pretty much ubiquitous in urban areas.
But along with the twitters, there are an abundance of insects to welcome the day. Crickets and grasshoppers are abundant and keep the place buzzing 24-7 (but are strangely silent below 55° Farenheit -and therefore classify as good temperature indicators). 
The sound of spring is properly announced best by the cicadas. Many find them akin to ugly, bug-eyed monsters, but I love them. Their first four-years of their life cycle are spent underground, emerge, mate and then die. 
Their symbolic value in traditional Chinese thought was obvious and replica jade cicadas were placed in the mouth of the deceased, before burial in hopes of resurrection.
Generally, apart from the noisy Gunther's Frogs, Paddy Frogs and Asiatic Painted Frog (the Chubby Frog) that fill each stream and culvert -the call of which is like a poor stranded cow- only the lovely little Bowring's Geckos makes the occasional loud tapping noise as it calls out day or night.
And then I have yet to mention the larger animals that surround us here -bellowing cows (who sound more like they have poor indigestion rather than the polite moo-ing you may be used to), screaming tree-top macaques, rampaging boar and the odd porcupine (although I have yet to hear anything from the last of these as they silently waddle throught the villages in the dead of night).
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And finally, to Mrs Smith, or more precisely, to Elisabeth Sladen who recently died. I think my first desire for a female was fostered upon the pretty Doctor Who assistant ably shouting "DOCTOR!?" at the designated end-of-episode cliff-hanger. A victim to cancer, she will be rememebered, at least by me, as the best assistant, Sarah Jane Smith, but only because she was the first one I fancied! Here she is doing her best being hypnotized-by-evil-contraption and again meeting the great John Pertwee.
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