Lucky you ... because we're moving on to the Merry Months of July, August and September. If you haven't read the two previous chunks, which rather surprisingly were JanFebMar and AprMayJun, I suggest you nip back a few posts and have a gander. You wouldn't want to miss out on their terrific contribution to the world of Ornithology....... (Only joking !) Here we go then, poems and everything ! Woo !! JULY Most birds cease to sing towards the end of the month. The yellow bunting and wren may still be heard. Cuckoo departs , corn crake heard night and morning*. ( I'm not joking). So I will build my alter* in the fields, And the blue sky my fretted dome shall be, And the sweet fragrance that the wild flower yields, Shall be the incense I will yield to Thee. AUGUST The autumn song of some birds begins, e.g.,robin, missel thrush, willow wren. Swallows congregate before* their departure. Swift and nightingale depart. Of all the bitter melody That makes the warm heart thrill, Give me the wind that whistles free Across the moorland hill. When every blade upon the lea Is dancing in delight, And every bush and flower and tree Is singing in its flight*. SEPTEMBER Robin, skylark, chiffchaff, and thrush may be heard. Wood owls hoot. Starlings, sparrows, linnets, and larks move about in flocks in search of food. Some of our summer migrants depart. Note the date last seen of the ring-ousel, tree pipit, blackcap, nightjar, wheatear, and wryneck. Then, September, ripe and hale, Bees about his basket fluster, Laden deep with fruity cluster, Skies have now a softer lustre; Barns resound in flap of flail. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ * * It is ALTAR you halfwit. * Not round our way it doesn't. * Probably the best time to do it. * What ? All of them ? And what ,exactly, are they singing ? * That ~~~~~~~~~~~~ thingy separates the rubbish from the truth. BUT NOW IT IS MUSIC TIME. It is indeed .. the excellent Wir sind Helden* and " Bist du nicht müde " Bist du nicht müde, nach so vielen Stunden? Du wankst** und taumelst, deine Füße zerschunden. Drehst dich im Kreis, bis der Tag verschwimmt, und hoffst am Ende, dass die Nacht dich noch nimmt. Ich find dich am Boden, den Rücken zur Wand. Den Blick zur Tür, zwei Steine in jeder Hand... Gib mir das, ich kann es halten. Gib mir das, ich kann es halten. Gib mir das, ich kann es halten. Wenn du es später noch willst, kriegst du es wieder, dann ist alles beim Alten. Bist du nicht müde, nach so vielen Tagen? Dich noch im Dunkeln mit den Schatten zu schlagen. Spuckst heißes Blut aus, du tobst unter Schmerzen. Drehst dich im Kreis, bis die Wände sich schwärzen. Ich find dich am Boden, deine Finger verbrannt, die heißen Kohlen immer noch in der Hand.. Gib mir das, ich kann es halten. Gib mir das, ich kann es halten. Gib mir das, ich kann es halten. Wenn du es später noch willst, kriegst du es wieder, dann ist alles beim Alten. Bist du nicht müde, nach so vielen Jahren? Weißt deine Fragen nicht mehr. Kriegst keinen klaren Satz zusammen, redest wirres Zeug, erstickst an den Worten, setzt deine Träume aus an trostlosen Orten... Und ich find dich am Boden, du lässt Tontauben fliegen. Allein dein Gewehr muss doch zehn Tonnen wiegen... Gib mir das, ich kann es halten. Gib mir das, ich kann es halten. Gib mir das, ich kann es halten. Wenn du es später noch willst, kriegst du es wieder, dann ist alles beim Alten. Gib mir das, ich kann es halten. Gib mir das, ich kann es halten. Gib mir das, ich kann es halten. Wenn du es später noch willst, kriegst du es wieder, dann ist alles beim Alten.
( ** . and no jokes about "wangst" either)
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Here's three ancient riddles, each of which describes a bird ....... [a] My clothes are silent when I walk the earth, Or rest at home, or ride the waters. Sometimes my wings and this lofty air Lift me high above houses of men, And the heavens carry me far and wide Over the world. My feathered wings Whistle loudly, singing a shrill And melodious song when moving high, I pass like a soul over land and sea. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ [b] I talk through my mouth with many tongues, Vary my tone, and often change The sound of my voice. I give loud cries, Keep my tune, make songs without ceasing. An old evening singer, I bring pleasure To people in towns. When I burst Into a storm of notes, they fall silent, Suddenly listening. Say what I'm called Who like a mimic loudly mock A player's song, and announce to the world Many things that are welcome to men. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This one, I think, is the easiest ... [c] When I was born, my mother and father Abandoned me. I had no breath, No pulse of life, but a kind hearted creature Covered me up and kept me close, Just as she would if I were kin. A stranger, I was cosseted and cared for Until in the warmth of that welcome breast, I was brought to life. After that My foster mother fed me and then, When I was strong enough to set out on my own, I deserted her, so of daughters and sons, She had fewer in spite of all she had done. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This one, I think, is the toughest. [d] I am a wonder. I vary my voice, Sometimes bark like a dog, sometimes bleat like a goat, Sometimes honk like a goose, sometimes shriek like a hawk. Sometimes I mimic the dusky eagle, That war-bird's cry, sometimes I mock The kite's voice, sometimes the gull singing Where I sit glad. G suggests me, Also A and R, with O, H and I. Now I am named, As these six letters clearly say. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Here's some fine music from The Cure I know that you're all desperate to find out all about the birds you could spot in the Merry Months of April, May and June. So here they are ... complete with their little bits of poetry. WARNING .... the poems are total crap, and the rest of it is feeble. ON THE PLUS SIDE .. it is so bad, it's good. APRIL Birds in full song as in March ; also the yellow bunting ,chaffinch, whitethroat, tree Pipit and greenfinch. Migrants arrive ... house martin, swallow, redstart, whinchat, blackcap, cuckoo, nightingale, wood wren, willow wren, sedge warbler and reed warbler. "For me the posied mantle green glad nature decks the spring; For me amidst the vernal scene, The happy wild birds sing: For my delight each lovely sight The changing season thrills; For me the wild breeze day and night, Harps on the heathery hills." MAY Most birds are in full song in this and next month. Quail, swift, flycatcher and nightjar appear . The nesting of birds reaches its height in May and young birds begin to hatch out of their shells during this month. "Open the doors, open the windows of your soul ! Let in the sun and the wind. Do not forget that any experience in life, So long as it is not sensual, Gives richness and breath to any power you possess. Live then , live to your utmost and your best" JUNE The skylark and most of the other birds are in full song at the early part of the month; towards the end a few will cease their song. Many young birds appear. How sweet are the flowers of the garden and field When earth wears her summer array. How laden the air with the fragrance they yield, How varied the hues they display Well, you're totally clued up now .... and you can put your new knowledge to good use .. ... so long as it is NOT SENSUAL ! BAH ! ( If you feel up to reading the first bit (Jan/Fen/Mar) just nip back two posts . You know you want to. ) ( I'm not sure if the "feel up" thing is appropriate) ..and here's a bit of Sensuality In Action ..... I'm sure you're all looking forward the the July/Aug/Sep and the Oct/Nov/Dec stuff.
Every evening, around 10pm-ish, I go to the front door and listen. Sometimes I hear nothing but the distant rumble of far-away traffic. Sometimes I see a bat flitting by. But two nights ago I "got" a very welcome call .... Whimbrel. Evocative is the word. I think it was a bit early .... I might track back to previous years and make a little list of First Whimbrels. A sort of " First Whimbrel List." Or FWL for short. Then I could make a graph. One fine day I might get round to writing about my MASSIVE "Birds on Stamps" collection. But that's another story. Anyway, 'tis nearly 10pm now ... so I'm off downstairs. Here's the excellent French band Indochine and " Le baiser" .... you'll probably get the idea of what it means as you watch the video ... I've been tidying up my "office" ..... and, as you do, I found some interesting things ... things I didn't know I had ...and one of them was a tiny, ancient " Nature Diary and Notebook" ... No. 429 apparently. Probably a 1950's sort of thing. Here's what it has to say about " BIRD LIFE" through the first three months of the year. I'm just doing them first, so as not to overwhelm you with technical jargon, ( I wish I'd known about this years ago) ( It is remarkably helpful) By the way, each month has a little bit of "poetry at the bottom of the page. JANUARY Starlings and Snow Buntings move about in flocks. Chaffinches begin to "pink". Fieldfares and Redwings flock in search of hawthorn berries. Missel-thrush, Wren and Skylark sing occasionally. Robin sings merrily. Come all you lads that wander free Upon the mountain wild, That love sweet nature's liberty, And will not be beguiled; With you as blithe as moorland wind I''ll rove by hill and glen, Life's greatest bliss we oft shall find Far from the haunts of men. FEBRUARY Blue tits chirp, robin, missel-thrush and skylark sing more vigorously. Rooks clamour and put their nests in order. Blackbirds begin to sing and build. The first of our summer migrants, the Wheatear, appears. He prayeth best, who loveth best All things great and small; For the dear Lord that loveth us, He made and loveth all. MARCH Green Woodpecker laughs, magpies and jackdaws very active. Summer migrant begin to arrive ... Ring Ouzel, Wheatear, Chiffchaff and Sand Martin. The Missel-thrush, Blackbird, Linnet and Yellow Bunting are in full song. Partridges begin to call, doves to coo, and Pheasants to cackle. Grass begins to grow; Dandelions come; Snowdrops haste to go After last month's snow Rough winds beat and blow Blossom on the plum. Well, there's so much to take in there. I recommend that you copy all that into your notebook and then you can learn it by heart before venturing out into the wild world of ,er, wildlife.. I can just imagine that little group of expert bird-lovers getting together to come up with all that useful advice .... ... I bet you can't wait for the next three months of similar stuff. ... and by "similar", I mean "a load of old rubbish." Unlike this, which is a lovely song ...I hope she knows what to do if you sink into the mud. I've put it on here somewhere. On our local news there's always people getting rescued from mud-sinking ... but they never tell you how to get out of it ..... we're run by idiots and gits. I've written about lots of hazards and their remedies ....
I'm a "solutions" sort of person ..... 19-top-birding-hazards-1-tsunamis.html 36-birding-hazards-2-hypothermia.html 398-hilbre-100-ways-to-read-your-tide-table-wrongly.html 583-the-hazards-of-birding-lyme-disease.html 940-birding-hazards-8.html ( That's the MUD one) "Losing the North", by the way, means " to lose your bearings, to be "all at sea." Here's what that internet thing has told me about Afghanistan ... Afghanistan is a landlocked country, two-thirds of which are difficult to access mountain regions. The highest mountains reach almost 7500 m. Nevertheless, Afghanistan has a large diversity of habitats and also a large number of endemic plants. However, the establishment of a systematic nature conservation has been hindered by the unstable political situation; so far there is only one national park (Band-e-Amir lakes near Bamiyan). The bird life is astonishingly varied in view of the difficult climatic conditions. This multilingual (en, de, fr, es, ja, cn) bird guide ( see below) introduces the complete bird life of Afghanistan in color. As a bonus, links to HD videos of more than 90 bird species are included. ( That's the official line, I take it .... ) ( But right now ...) We've all seen the total disaster area that is Afghanistan. We've seen ruined towns, thugs in trucks toting machine guns.. that sort of thing. But the one sort of thing I haven't seen anything of is .... BIRDS. Not one has put in an appearance. Not while I've been watching anyway. So .. I wondered ... maybe they've shot and eaten them all. Or maybe, there aren't any. It doesn't look very hospitable towards birds. Ferocious heat, dreadful drought, relentless sun, sparse vegetation ... So ...I thought ..... why would they bother having such a thing as .. " The Birds of Afghanistan" But they have !!! Judging by the author, the well-known Wolfgang J. Daunicht, we would hope that the usual German efficiency would result in a terrific book. Who knows ? So ...dear readers all.... we will all have our eyes glued to the news to see what, if anything, we can spot. And if you do spot some, kindly let me know so that I can start my Afghan-list. I think its called Crowd-Sourcing. Here's a beautiful video ..... I recognised a lot of the little chunks of it .... RESULT ! ... in the paper yesterday there was a huge flock of wonderful Feral Pigeons being perused by a huge flock of gun-toting Talibanners ... I assume that's the collective name for them.
I'm relying on you lot to spot some more ,er, interesting species. At least, all seems to be going really well in the world. The hotter the country, the madder they are. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I spend a lot of my valuable time waiting outside shops, in which The Significant Otter is getting the provisions. She says she'll be back in 5 mins ... but she never is. So this time, instead of gawping at the derelict billiard hall over the road that has been empty for centuries, I decided to start an entirely new sort of list...... The Waiting Outside Shops List ... [TWOSL] So far it looks like this ... [1] Herring Gull (2) [2] LBB Gull (1) [3] Feral Pigeon (2) [4] Starling (4) ... I know the list is very small so far.... ... but everything has to start somewhere ..... ... but if that's true, where did the "first ever thing" come from ? ... "Erm ?" as some cosmologists say. But what shall the music be ..... "Waiting Around to Die" seems appropriate .... As it happens, I was talking to a "Top Cosmologist" yesterday .... he didn't approve of my " Steady State/ Always been there" ideas .. I think he must be a "Big-Banger". But if there was a time when the Universe was only a bundle of stuff a few metres across, where the hell did that come from ? Ha ! Sainsbury's ?
There's a famous joke about a Welshman who gets marooned on a desert island. Years later a ship arrives, and he shows them around ..there's the pub, there's the rugby pitch, and there's the two chapels. The ship's captain asks the obvious question .... " Why two chapels?" "Well, it's obvious innit ! That's the one I go to, and that's the one I don't go to!" Yes. Indeed. A very male thing that. And yes, there's places I don't go to. For different reasons. 11-places-i-dont-go.html Then there's a place I'll call "X". Yes, "X". I used to go there a lot, it's one of the best birding/ringing/mothing spots around where I live. But I haven't been there for many years . And it's all because I've fallen out with the person who DOES go there. . or rather, he fell out with me. That's a very male thing too. It's not my fault, but I'm not going there any more. ← full stop !! (!) And that was yesterday's " Place I haven't set foot in" for ...er...well, at least 20 years or so ... since that fateful day on which me and two other dedicated, hard-working bird-ringers and moth-identifiers turned up at 6am, put the nets up, ID'd loads of moths, ringed lots of birds .... and then " the boss" turned up and kicked us all out ... we were, apparently, not fit to be on his precious territory, or any other similar location. Why, we never really found out. Totally astonished by this outbreak of nastiness, all three of us turned around and left. And I never came back ... until yesterday. Luckily, there was nobody there. Here's the full details of the whole debacle .... 112-in-which-i-get-thrown-out.html As I stood there yesterday, it all seemed very strange. And the really rotten thing is, he totally denies that it ever happened ! What sort of a fantasy life does he live in ? Enough of all that .... so we'll have a bit of music ...... very appropriate ! It was very odd going back there after 20-ish years. And I've hardly spoken to him since. It still hurts. Ages ago I wrote about various celebrities and their Really Rotten Rarity Write-Ups ... ..and here they are, now all in one amazing article .... [1] The Bewildered Bird Rejection Committee That's what I call it anyway..... don't mean anything by it old chaps, buy you a snorter down at the Duck and Trumpet next time you're down here... anyhow, here's what I, er, saw... it's jolly old BJ here by the way.... Well,, blimey, spending a bit of time at the pater's mega-mansion, don't y'know, what, with, er, never mind who she was, not, er, relevant, in the circs, hurrrrumph, so there was this bird, no, not that sort, the other sort, on the jolly old lawn, 3-acre job that one, and a bally ha-ha half way across the thing, caught out a few times with the blasted thing, too many bracers most likely, not the first time I've had a bird on the lawn, see what I mean, eh, keep it to yourselves what ! No names, no paternity suit what ? You'll be wanting a few facts, routine stuff, er, not too hot on facts actually, do me best, tally-ho, well, it was about the size of ,er, how can I put it, Goldfish-Govey's head, probably the best comparison, legs, yes, got them, medium size, sort of Thatcher-May hybrid,but with the knees round the back, always wondered about that, seems a bit odd. You'll be wanting to know about its face I dare say, hold on a mo, up at the front as usual I expect, thin sort of pasty thing, short of a few meals at the club I wouldn't wonder, Rees-Moggish look about it, startled, yes, beak , ooh-er, must have had one, a bit north of the face, best bet,thin sort of job, bit like old Wiggers at Balliol, what about that time he got through the Vice-Chancellor's cat-flap, takes a bit of nerve that, got to hand it to him, sent down though, finished up with a first eventually, stern letter from the pater I would imagine. I've got that feeling I always get when I'm on the spot a bit, you know, thinking there's something missing, which reminds me of old Stinky Stodgeworth, one of my tutors at Eton, we used to nick his chalk off his desk while he wasn't looking and he would go raving bonkers and give out detentions left right and centre, and then one of us would pick the right moment and stealthily put in back where it came from. The silly old sod would apologise profusely and excuse us all ...he never worked out what was going on . What days, eh ! Hold on hold on... there's something missing .... have I done the legs ? And talking of legs, which I probably was, what about, er,hold on, better not carry on on with that one, bit dodgy these days, hang on ! I know .... two of the things ! Phew ... just about sorted that bit. I've missed out the wings, that's the thing. And the back. And the front for that matter, better not call it the breast, phwoooar, sticky wicket that one,scrub that, don't y'know, give it a wide birth and all that, hang on, is it berth ? Er ..... well, you lot can pick out the right one, you're the bally experts when all's said and done, and anyway, it had wings, because it flew off , and if it had a front , which it did, it must have a back as well, so that's all sorted out. All shipshape and Bristol fa.... hold on, steer clear of Bristols old chap, steady the ship, nearly got it all sorted out ...... Hah ! Tail !! Well, er, can't say I spotted it. But it must have had one, so that's just about wrapped it up. Which, now I come to think of, is what happened to old Stodgworth on the last day of term, we wrapped him up in brown paper while he was asleep, rather early in the lesson for him, and posted him to New bloody Zealand ! Worth every penny. Well, it was old money then, £1 2s 8d as far as I remember. Postal Order job of course. There we are then .... and I'm depending on you to come to the right and proper decision. Us Old Bailliolers ... hang on a mo, that can't be right ... Old Bailliolions, no, I know, Old Balliolographers .... well, whatever we're called,we need to stick up for each other, that's the spirit, what ! And talking of tails, I could tell a few tales about you lot, might get leaked to the Sunday papers, don't want that sort of thing now do we, if you know what I mean. And I should know! So, just mull that over, what ! Hang on ... maybe it's wide burth ?? ! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ [2] Here's another "celebrity bugger-up" ... Needless to say, like every other twerp in celebrity-land, Amil has shunted his talents into the birding sphere. I think his relaxed attitude, friendly demeanour and general all-round laid-back approach will inject a new fresh, git-led atmosphere to our cherished pastime. And as the destroyer of top pop band Soriasis he has the skills to stir things up a bit ...about time too. And ... he's found a rare bird ... or thinks he has. How would he know ? And ... he's sent his " description" to the BBRC ( Baby Arsy, he calls it) Yes, he's written it all up, sorted, right ? ..... Baby Arsy ..... you'd best read this or else..... Ok ? OK, I'm on it, listen up, I was out with me kids, don't mess with them mate, or you'll get a wack round the 'ed, fat bastard, anyway, took 'em to the park didn't I, good parenting, right, you arguing wiv that mate ? Eh ? yor up for a slap rarnd the 'ed so watch it mate.There's all these dopeheads after me ortograff, but I'm , like, piss off, and there's this bird, yeah, and I'm shitting meself, know what I mean, bloody bastard big thing, attitude, I know all abart that, me, so don't mess me around or I'll be rarnd your gaff sharpish with me mates, it 'ad 2 legs, that might 'elp you wiv it, and , 'old up, me eldest 'as got 'old of it, gerroff it Cheyenne or you-know-bleedin' wot, I hope you'se Baby Arsy lots lissnin or you'll not ave no neecaps left so think on ..... great big 'ed on it, bloody bonced up it was, totally bonced I fought, don't mess wiv it mate, I told the kids, leeve it, leeve it kids, snot wurf it if y'kno wot I meen, anyway, you lot in your swanky offisses droolin all over those tarted-up secret airy's you've all got, don't fink I don't kno abart it, you'se job is to tell me what the bastard is, and sharpish or I'll be rarnd your gaff tooled up, don't fink I carnt find it I can find owt me, I've got mates, right, leave it Cheyenne, tell you wot, fetch it over 'ere and I'll get a proper butchers at it, shite, you've ad it in the bleedin' pond you soft tart, look ,I 'aint got the time for all this ritin' an stuff, get it sorted art swiftish or bleedin' else. Don't say I've not told yer. Hey, I've just remembered it were right bonced up too .. 'ow 'ard can it effing be ? Well readers, if you were lucky enough to be one of the BBRC panel, what would be your decision, allowing for the fact that you had to get it "sorted" pretty " sharpish" or you would be "up for" a "slap rarnd the 'ed" at the very least ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ [3] Another Celebrity Cock-Up Well ... phwooooar ! What a corker ! Cripes ! More of a Corker- Sort-er-Stork-er, what ? Big ! I'll say ! Corks ! A right whopper... remember that barmaid at Wynthorpe-Jegger's 21st ? No ... nobody else does either. Talk about whoppers !!! Tell you what ... just between you, me and the butler's mum ..... it was a big-un. Legs !! Miles long !! Stonkers !! Looked a bit like that bit of stuff ... used to clean my rooms at Balliol !! Poop-Poop ! Erk ! Hard to keep things in the old trousers sort of thing. Phwooaaaaar. Ding-Ding-A-ling. Details ! Cripes ??!! Yes, you'll be wanting, er, hang on a minute, what was I on about, wait a sec, got it , yes, no probs, details.... yes... not a "details"sort of bloke really, don't need it in my line of work, whatever, er, whatever it is, hang on , it's coming back to me, er, sort of, reminds me of me old mucker Trentby-Stinker, or was it Stinkby-Trenter, well, one of those, or something, he couldn't remember his own bally name, had a bugger of a time getting home after a bit of a binge down at Jollocks, so did I, come to that, never did find those trousers, but hang on, it was black and, er, white, yes, whatever you do, Joris, don't mention Minstrels, seem to think that might get me in a spot of bother somehow or other, yes, black bits, sure of that, and white,er,other bits, legs ... legs .. they deserve a bit of space on the old page, what, did Stinker-Trentby get his trousers back, no bloody idea actually, moving on, beak, big beak, yes, blimey, what a beak, couldn't help thinking about Beaky Bumface at Balliol, he was always in the Beak's office for something or other, usually the other actually as it happens, now what colour was the beak, wait a sec, it's coming, as the barmaid said to ..hang on, better not do that one, bit near the knuckle, nudge-nudge, Poop-Poop, a blind horse knows no secrets, what, Phooo--aaaaahr !! Corks ! Sorry, sorry,sorry, nodded off a bit there, Moooooo Moooooo, whose party is it, must slip across the bally room and have a word, no no, hang on, beaks.... red. It was red, yes, hold on, jiggers, the legs were red too ... bloody long as well, I'm telling you, no word of a lie, that Brigitte Barcode or whatever she called herself, Wowsy-Trousers, she had legs. Phwooooaaaar! And the rest, hold on, rhymes with rest, no idea actually, mustn't think about them at the minute, we don't want any more Trouser-Trombone-Trouble, anyway, hold on, you'll need to know what it sounded like, sort of old-gaffer noises, grrrrfff, do it myself during the old rumpy- pumpy, blimey, better cross that out, gasping sort of noise, ooo-er missus, clattery noises too, makes me think of poor old Rupert Crust- Heverington that time he fell off the silly billiard table at the Dorkington, lots of clattering there, rolled him outside onto the pavement I reckon, best thing ... not seen him since actually, now, where was I, or, raaaather, where was it, nearly there, woof-woof, oiks, no bloody clue there, hold on, hold on, lakes, I've got 7 or so on the old shaky-pater's grounds you know, which one, that's the thing, got, it, got it, just a minute, er, one of those, you know old chap, the one where bloody Steggers-Stumpington jumped in starkers ...never seen him since either, odd thing, but that's where it was, up to its legs, grrrr, legs, yes, no, er, hang on, can't be er crumbs quite er right, oourrrhhuuuurhhhhhh..................................................................................... pwwwaaaaaaaaaaar... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I hope you enjoyed those ... it's always good to see others making a mess of things. BUT ..who were those crappy bird-spotters ? And what were the birds ? Two of them were the same person. And one of them was a different person. And now...... some music ..... woo ! Us birders love owls, and in folklore they are widely symbolised as "wise" in all the four corners of the globe. The "Owl" in the "Pooh" books is a central symbolic character ( only a close second to the "bossy bighead" Rabbit.) BUT ..... Owl is in fact a pedantic plutocrat who resides at " The Chestnuts", an old-world residence of great charm, which was grander than anyone else's. A spelling champion and a master of flowery, empty rhetoric, Owl is the necessary hand-servant to the raw acquisitive passion of Rabbit, which badly needs to be cloaked in grandiosities. The friendship of these two intellectual thugs is a perfect representation of the true role of " scholarship" in borgeois-industrial society: the end purpose of Owl's obscure learning is to spread a veil of confusion over the doings of the fat cats, to cow the humble into submission before the graven idols of " objective truth" and "the Western tradition" and to rob the proletariat of its power to protest. What could be more meaningful than the fact that Owl has stolen the very tail from the back of Eeyore, the most downcast, bounced-upon member of society, and has converted it to his doorbell ? When Pooh comes to retrieve it he is not so much offered a lick of honey. Rabbit, the industrial manager, at least understood that one must give a subsistence in exchange for the worker's largely unpaid toil, but Owl, the "pure" scholar who professes to be innocent of the ways of the world, excuses himself even this much elementary compassion. The trahison des clercs is the correct name for " this sort of thing." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Well readers, I've nicked that ( with a few bits missed out and a few bits put in) from a truly remarkable "casebook" in which each chapter is written by a "high-up" in Literary Criticism .... when I first read it, as a gullible 14-year-old Widnesian, I had got half-way through it before I realised that it was all a big joke ! It is truly one of the funniest books I have ever read...... you'll see what it is after the music ..... when you'll be a few minutes older and sensibl-er .... Here's that wonderful book that you'll want to rush out and buy ... I'm sure you all want to know that I've read WTP in French/German/Spanish/English and Latin.
Unfortunately, it is not available in Welsh. Bah. |
AuthorThat's the author up there ... I was young and sprightly then. Archives
October 2022
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