Three days ago, a white-collared Blackbird appeared in the garden . But it wasn't until yesterday that I managed to get some half-decent snaps of it. Right side ... Left side... Because of its vicarish white collar we've christened it " The Rev" I wanted to call it licorice because it rhymes with vicarish. But The Significant Otter said it was silly. So, The Rev it stays. The good thing about it is that I can keep track of it, unlike all the other ones that look exactly the same ... it might stick around for weeks ...months ... years (?) . Who knows ? Our garden has been a bit of a Blackbird-magnet lately ... at times there have been seven of them at once ... and there's been a lot of territorial argy-bargy as a result. You might remember that last winter we had several Blackcaps in residence .... 2 males and a female at least .... and I could tell the two males apart because one of them had a white feather on one side .... very helpful. It was only recently that us humans realised how short the life-span of small birds actually was. Many Robin-spotters were mightily-miffed when they found out that "their Robin" was unlikely to have been the same one they saw last year, such was the attrition rate. If they had a "distinctive" one they might have realised the truth of their life-span for themselves. And talking of death, a topic which has become much more real in recent times, here's a highly relevant poem wot I wrote on here ages ago .. it demonstrates the various ways that different categories of birders could be bumped off this mortal coil ... I want to die in the way a Robin-stroker ought to whilst making some repairs to my home-made Blue Tit box .. and falling off the ladder that I've propped against the lean-to A worthy way, I think, to pop your clogs. I hope to have a dude's death, it's completely up my street, by falling off a cliff whilst Puffin- spotting. As I bounce from rock to boulder, I'll think, how very sweet, that I'll be feeding all those sea-birds whilst I'm rotting ! All us top-rank twitchers, we'd like to kick the bucket tearing down the motorway, at 80 ,90, faster, So, with my mates all in the back, hoping we will tick it I'll crash the car into a bridge, and of our fate I'll be the master ! Maybe I should meet my end the way us birders should Doing something "conservationist" and consequently "good" so I'll make a papier-maché box and then get buried in it then it and I will slowly rot, which will maybe "Save the Planet." [ A worthy cause, you must admit I'd love to contribute to it But maybe not that drastically I might just give "them" 50p ] As an avid birdwatcher I'd really love to die lying in a field whilst logging migrants flying by, and then from out of nowhere, a tractor would squash me flat and in 10 seconds I'd expire, and I hope that would be that.. Now bird-watchers, well, they all have their very special way of taking leave of this sorry world .... on a soggy survey day they'll get swallow-ed up in squelching mud, and step off this mortal coil, and if you're lucky, you will too, which helps fertilise the soil. The Ornithologist has ways most logical, off his perch to fall, these days they're hardly relevant, they ain't no use at all to birders, twitchers, robin-strokers, all the others too... one "breathed his last" last week, inhaling fumes from gannet poo ! ( that's a "scientific" way to go for your normal ornithologist, it was probably at the top of his "bio-logical" ways to perish list ! ) As a lifelong Scientist I feel that I should croak in some way that's appropriate, and fitting, and bespoke and logical and numerical, not as do "other" folk, so I think I'll eat my slide rule, and consequently, choke. ( there's another scientific way.... eating lots of graphs and charts, so I'd expire 3 hours later from my exponential farts !) ( All that peculiar figure-stick munching gives a new meaning to "number-crunching !) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ..and here's another one I wrote ages ago about things we could catch from birds ... This little verse must be learned by all medical students in their first week of study. It was specially written to be memorable ... for obvious reasons..... From many birds you can catch some horrible diseases Like the deadly Krots which buggers up your arms and kneeses And Lublub, Wems and Nilnud, which slowly rot your crutch Which make you a pariah, and dangerous to touch ! Ekawittik is a nasty one, which you catch from arctic birds You get it off their feathers and it leads to painful turds Whilst Ognimalf, a deadly curse, Does just the same but much much worse. From larger birds you'll get the Yerpso A mix of diarrhoea and lumbago. Have I mentioned Elocnitarp ? It's like being skewered by something sharp Your skin goes scaly, like a carp. While Tooc, carried by many species Causes funny-coloured faeces ! It's obvious what Rotnecca does You only catch it from the dove People think they're very nice, but usually they're plagued by lice. In two days time your head falls off At least it stops that horrid cough. Worst of all, the dreaded Kua Because there isn't one Oh dea. I hope you all noticed the interesting/interesting thing about all those "diseases." The kettle's on, the sun has gone, another day
She offers me Tibetan tea on a flower tray She's at the door, she wants to score She dearly needs to say I loved you a long time ago, you know Where the wind's own 'Forget me nots' blow But I just couldn't let myself go Not knowing what on earth, there was to know But I wish that I had 'cause I'm feeling so sad That I never had one of your children Then across the room, inside the tomb, a chance has waxed and waned The night is young, why are we so hung up in each other's chains? I must take her and I must make her while the dove domains And feel the juice run as she flies Run my wings under her sighs as the flames of eternity rise To lick us with the first born lash of dawn Oh, really, my dear, I can't see what we fear Sat here with ourselves in between us And at the door, we can't say more than just another day And without a sound I turn around and I walk away
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AuthorThat's the author up there ... I was young and sprightly then. Archives
October 2022
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