He looks a bit dodgy in that raincoat don't you think ... read on ...and you'll see why .............. There I was, hot and bothered after trudging round the massive loop around Grumbling Stumps, finally staggering into the drinks parlour and looking forward to a nice chat with like-minded folk, when who should I find myself stuck with but The King of Bryher ..... just him. You know what he's like .... he just slags me off all the time. Chwarae teg, he slags off everyone else as well ... but this time, "everyone else" wasn't there. Ouch. So after he's grilled me about about all the species of Shrike I'd seen, and where, and when, and in what detail, and whether I'd really been on any of those Scilly Pelagics at all, and ridiculed my (very few) notable discoveries, I decided on a new line of approach. I told him straight ... any more of "that sort of thing" and I would only speak to him in Welsh !! That way, he wouldn't know what sort of horrible things I was calling him ... aha !! Well, he didn't like that. He looked a bit glum. "Iawn" , I said to him, "Myndwch, tin wyneb ! Dwi'n gyrru yn ôl adref, dych chi dyn ofnadwy !! " And I did. If you google translate it, just remember google doesn't know what "tin" means. It means "arse". It gives the "Tintin" books a whole new dimension ! Mind you, before that all kicked off, we did have good laugh about that Unwanted Gimbo thing !! Here it is, in all its glory ... or rather, ignominy 94-the-mysterious-unwanted-gimbo.html All I need now is ... darn o seibiant ! A pryd ti'n wael Mi awn ni i'r haul Pob hyn a hyn mae angen seibiant O mae'r tonnau'n taro'r lan yn ddi-baid O'n blaen, o'n blaen ...... (ac ati !) Dw i wrth fy modd gyda geiriau caneuon. Maen nhw’n gallu cydweithio gyda’r gerddoriaeth i dorri dy galon, neu i droi’r alaw ar ei phen. Dw i wastad wedi caru geiriau’r Cyrff am eu bod mor farddonol. Dw i’n cofio synnu pa mor brydferth oedden nhw (a meddwl bod pawb yn y gogledd yn siarad fel ’na). Maen nhw’n gwneud y gorau o sain yr iaith ac yn llawn odli mewnol – ac maen nhw’n swnio’n berffaith gyda llais Marc, wrth gwrs. Dyma rhai o fy hoff eiriau, er y byddai’n rhwydd dewis mwy. Here's a pic of Y Cyrff ( The Bodies) when they first started .... The bigger question is ... was what I did a tactic or was it a strategy ?
And anyway, can you remember the dates and locations of every shrike you've seen over the years ? Actually, I have a much better recall of the various ones I didn't see, but spent ages looking for ! Now there's a thing.
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As any fule no, every 100 posts I "round up" all the gormless verses I've concocted in my ideal/idle moments and put them all in one place ,,, that's HERE. So, this is all the ones between 300 and 400. I'm doing this simply because I know you would not want to have missed any of them..... obviously .... Fasten your safety-belts , ladies and gentlemen ..... This one's from post 323 ... Christmas Eve it was ....... here we go ... This "poem" was partly inspired when I read the list of "eight different sorts of birders" arranged in hierarchical order in Mark Cocker's excellent book " Birders" .... and some of you of older years might come up with another major influence too .... have a think about it .... consider it a very very late bit of the " Mini-Birding Christmas Quiz" .... 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,so 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 !) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I hope you liked that little verse Despite its morbid topic and you might "me" reimburse with something telescopic ! My current scope's too heavy so I'd really like a light one I can't afford one now because my income is a shite one !! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ As always, I thank you .. This one's all about NOT arguing with people about identification. They don't like it, and you're wasting your breath ! Here we go then .... Have you ever tried to tell someone that they've got their ID wrong, It's bill is much too short, and the legs are much too long ? You know it won't do any good, but you really must persist. 'cos if you don't, it's you that's going to have the shortest list. Have you tried to explain to a halfwit, that it's not a Pratincole That's feeding on her peanuts , and eating a sausage roll ? If so, you're a braver man than me, or maybe you like a fight, The best thing's to point out to her that it's much more like a Twite. In a hide at Titchwell years ago, there were Redshanks by the ton, But a smartarse shouted "Spotted", and he was certain it was one. I told him why it wasn't, why he was wrong, and I was right, , And that is why, for the last two years, I've had nightmares every night. ( Worry not, the plaster's off , and I can walk to the canteen but my face is now so ugly, I have to eat behind a screen) And that Black-throated Diver, well, I've written all about it It was really just a Cormorant, and she was half a halfwit And she told me that my binoculars were totally decrepit She said it had been ID'd by a man who knew everything about it for his South American experience was superior to mine ..and his binoculars, she told me, were really mighty fine. I took my leave of the daft old bag, my confidence was shattered and staggered back to my clapped-out car, nothing no longer mattered, and threw my Zeiss binoculars into the nearest bin and decided I would chuck this stupid birding business in. So, readers of this sorry tale, try to keep your hooters out of any birding dispute , whatever it's about. Let the silly bugger make mistakes and get things wrong Just let him think he's got it right, and jolly him along After all, it matters, not two bloody hoots, whatever he wants to call it Because we are the experts, and he is just a nitwit ! By the way, don't worry, I got my bins back right away I picked them up on my way to work, no problem, the next day, There'll be no I.D. arguments from me, no bitter rows Because we always get things right, but they are stupid cows ! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I thank you ! If you want to read about that "Black-throated Diver" incident, it's on the other end of this handy link ... and it really happened ... to me .... 50-the-man-with-the-proper-binoculars.html ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ..and this next one is from post 314 ( or maybe 313) .... it was a very very wet day Ell, readers, the ater is hooshing down the indow panes, and ill probably turn to sno any second no, and then ice, and darkness, and the end of the orld as e kno it. So, as I do hen everything is aful, and et, and indy, and my ellys are aash with ater, I turn to verse to ash aay my earisome orries...... My favourite bird is the Sallo But it alks so akardly hen on the ing it hizzes through the sky so very seetly ! The axing's very lovely too inter's the time to see one. I love to atch them hen I can On tigs , especially Roan. And hat about the stately Cro ? It's orth a longer look. hite 'tis not, nor yello It's rather like a Rook. The Ol, the ren, the lovely San The illo arbler too ! The Hafinch and the igeon I kno are dear to you. Ay up, ay up on this ee list The Little Sift and illet The to are rare and onderful And our list, they ill fill it ! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This one is about making haiku ...... from post 326.... And here's three of mine as examples .....
The cormorant flies A bright flash dazzles into the sky-world above a hummingbird is floating to eternity. through the fervid air. Wren: a bundle of poking and pestering in each nook and crevice. Haiku can "do" all sorts of things... that "cormorant" one is a sort of "universal statement", the hummingbird one as a "frozen moment", and the "wren" one is just about getting on with things ! Composing haiku can be as deep or shallow as you like. Whichever end of that spectrum you prefer, it's fascinating and fun. And birds make an excellent and vast theme for you to tackle. Plus ... being a creator is good for you. The world is a little bit different, thanks to you. So, think of " haiku-making" as a Christmas Challenge. And, if you want to, you could send them in. And I could make a sort of gallery of them. There's the "comment" thing. Or there's the email thing. [email protected] And, by the way, lots of "haiku" you see on't net etc don't obey the rules. It's not as if they're difficult to understand..... here's my take on them.. This is a haiku it gets it exactly right five seven and five. This is a wrong haiku it makes a right bog-up of it six, eight, three ! You won't get a better explanation than that. Right .. off you go then ! Plus ... if you chuck out all those BIG poetry books, and replace them with the obviously much much smaller haiku books, it makes the room look much bigger ! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This one's from post 332.... it's all about bird-related Limericks ..... A few posts ago I set you the challenge of writing some bird-related Haiku. It was all part of my "Crucial Christmas Conundrum Contest" which has enthralled the nation ... well, some of it anyway. OK ... hardly any of it. Now your Haiku ... it's classy. Sophisticated. It's Moody and maybe Magnificent. Deep. Mysterious. Elusive. But your average Limerick ... it's Brassy, Bawdy and Bold. That might be important for you. So....... here's a limerick praising, er, the limerick .... It's Poetry task number 2 You can stuff all your Snooty Haiku We want poems that kick ass and offend and embarrass ... a Limerick ! ... that's what we'll do ! All right then. Here, as they say, are some I made earlier....... There once was an upstart young Gannet who learned a rude song, and then sang it. Its neighbour, a Lark, got into a nark made a trap for it, set it and sprang it ! There once was a male Naumann's Thrush who developed a terrible crush on a Calandra Lark whom he met in Hyde Park but sadly, he got the bum's rush ! The Willow and Marsh Tit are similar, with their features you must be familiar as well as their call .. ( they're not similar at all) to ignore it would be even sillier ! There is a keen birder called Lee Who drives you, for a trifling fee to where all the best birds are in his expensive car ... and all at incredible speeds ! When you're on a Scilly Pelagic Those rare birds, they turn up like magic They'll keep coming and coming As long as they're chumming But the smell of the stuff is quite tragic ! Elite birders must know about jizz ( that's the features of creatures, that is) if you know nowt about it you'll look like a halfwit when you ID a Knot as a Tit ! There you are .... if I can churn them out like soup at a soup kitchen, so can you. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This one's from post 342 .... I was a bit fed up .... my car was in a terminal decline, and we were wasting loads of valuable birding time looking for a replacement ...grrr .......... read on .... As to current issues, my car is still perilously close to terminal collapse, so I've been spending a lot of time simply " car prospecting" while I've still got a car to go prospecting in ! And today, for the first time, we found a type of car that The Significant Otter liked. That's a start ,at least. But as a consequence of that, I've got very little "proper" birding done.... My ♥ is sad, and weak as T My day-list hardly got 2 3 my brain is getting £-ed it's conflicted and ÷d My spirits have fallen by a ½ And l8ely I can hardly laugh From every ¼ problems mount there4 there are no birds to count It really makes me very † My life is now a C of dross I feel as if a giant ♣ upon my head's about 2 drub Perhaps I'll simply buy a ♠ and wander 2 a quiet glade and dig a deep hole just 4 me and lie there 4 eternity ! But no! a ♦ such as I should live life 2 the utmost not linger in a shallow 2mb nor B a h8ful ghost !! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This next one is from post 350-something.. And it's a poem about post-death birdwatching .... it's quite jolly actually ... Just down the road a way as they say in the USA there's a land that's full of unexpected birds that we can watch all day. They'll all be bright and colourful like the Jabirus, the Juncos and the Jays and though we're all dead we won't dwell on that, instead we'll scope and bin and tick for all our days ! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This one's from post 357 .... it's a piss-take ( by me of course) of William Topaz MacGonagall, the world's worst poet . Here's a poem I found tucked inside an old copy of " Scilly Saunters" ....... surely it must have been written either by the "poet" McGonagall himself or by a clever imitator. But who would do such a thing ? This afternoon I met The King of Bryher and yes ... it is the truth ...I'm not a liar. He wore a crown engraved " The King of Bryher" so there was no need at all at all for me to inquire and throughout the sultry afternoon I called him " sire." Oh how I wish I was The King of Bryher in that role I would never retire from being the The King of Bryher and there's only one way to be The King of Bryher. Your "Bryher list" must be remarkably higher which can take a considerable time to acquire. But to be The King of Bryher is rather grand for Bryher is indeed a lovely land surrounded by the sea on every hand as islands are, as all must understand. He rules the isle, its rocks, its birds, its sand, its hedgerows, outcrops, hilltops, hillocks and some do compare it to fair Samarkand which is truly a remarkable and distant foreign land and undoubtedly surrounded by considerable hinterland. And when I am The King of Bryher when I pass by, the people will inquire who is that man who wears the princely crown ? Surely a man of worldwide reknown who will forever wear his kingly crown till Bryher's sea uprises, whence he'll drown. And on his gravestone, from rock of Bryher made his list of Bryher ticks will be displayed and he, interred beneath with knightly crown flesh gone to dust, resembles most a clown ! You can, if you're mad enough, you can read the whole caboodle at the far end of this link .. I think ... it includes a brilliant parody by The Pythons.... 357-the-king-of-bryher-surely-a-lost-poem-by-william-topaz-mcgonagall-the- worlds-worst-poet.html ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This next one's from post 365 ..... I had a bit of a spontaneous rant ! thank god I'm not an elephant but almost the size of an ant else the damage might have been extravagant. After her, there was another woman telling us that .. .... "women were changing The Rules of Poetry !" I didn't know there were any. And if there are, I certainly don't take any notice if them. She also told us that " Keats was dead." Er ...... yes..... Blimey ... I've just heard That a poem about a bird for example doesn't have to rhyme or scan or any of that conformist and conventional gormless stuff and if you can't find owt to rhyme with gannet stuff it ! But I wouldn't want to do any of that I mean, think what might happen if Linnet don't never rhyme with nuffink, innit ? and anyway why do the lines have to be in line I've no idea, and what if I made shearwater into watershear just so it would rhyme with wheatear suppose I backwards all it write could I but why ? and anyway, who's to say ¿ ♣ s ♦ s ♠ s + ♥s everythingeventuallyfallsaparts ! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ..and this one is from post 378 ....... A Ms. Woodnymph of Norton Bedstead has emailed me with that a question ..a question I've asked myself many, many times ... why have there been no poems featuring the excellent Bristlefront.... well, here's one .... Some birds don't rhyme with owt that's useful so poets don't like them, to be truthful they write no poems, no songs we sing of gannets, twites or penguins (king) .. T'is sad that Twite should rhyme with shi** as does the Kite and The Isle of White and gannet rhymes with .... hold on... planet but what on Earth's the use of that ? And what about the Capercaillie it has to live entirely shyly and creep around the place so slyly usually in downtown Filey there's nowhere else it can locate well, not in poems at any rate.... Right up the creek we find the Wigeon he rhymes with pigeon, and religion engine, onion, bunion, gudgeon .. therefore poets such species do ignore ... Even worse off is the Blackbird He rhymes with nerd, absurd and turd That not the stuff that poetry thrives on He's in a worse place than the Wigeon .. And what about the lonesome Pitta A bitter, quitter,and maybe, shi**** he rhymes with witter, baby-sitter and if you know your latin, iter yes, iter, iter, iter iter ... [ that's something of an in-joke for all us latin-learning folk] For poets like me, the Bristlefront is a rather dodgy punt he rhymes with useless words like runt and bunt, and blunt, and punt and stunt their relevance is minimal and the "obvious" one's not practical. But now he's got his name in verse .. (that last verse could have been much worse)(!) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ That's it ... thank gawd ! There's only so much of "that sort of thing" the yooman boddy can take. Although ..... I really enjoy thinking them up ...... once I'd put them all together for this 400th post I read the lot all over again..I'm actually a vain & shallow old Hector ! Yes ... a post without a number ... I could have called it 399½ .... but I think that title does the job. It's numberless because I want tomorrow's thingy to be the 400th thingy and for it to arrive exactly 1 year since I started this thingy. That'll be 400 articles in 365 days. and that's 1.09589041096 posts-per-day. But what am I going to put on this one ? I needed summat rimarkibule ... And that rimarkibule thing is .... this .... That picture also gives me an excuse to play one of my favourite songs ...again .. ... and it's got good advice for us bird-spotters as well .... after all, if that photographer hadn't been "looking upwards", she'd never have seen it .... I roll the window down
And then begin to breathe in The darkest country road And the strong scent of evergreen From the passenger seat as You are driving me home Then looking upwards I strain my eyes and try To tell the difference between Shooting stars and satellites From the passenger seat as You are driving me home "Do they collide?" I ask And you smile With my feet on the dash The world doesn't matter When you feel embarrassed Then I'll be your pride When you need directions Then I'll be the guide For all time For all time So ...the next post WILL have a number .... 400. It might even be 400 ! But ...400! means 400 x 399 x 398 x 397 x 396 x 395 ........ and so on ......... x1. Which is a very hefty number indeed. So I'll probably stick to 400. On this very day of the 26th Feb ( but way back in 1986) I drove to a conference centre to a ...yes .. conference. It was just a "day" thing, and my "bit" of it was my usual spiel about recreational mathematics. But ... I also had an ulterior motive ...... so I set off really really early and got to a well-known wood only a few dinky miles from said conference centre which should ..... yes, should ... contain a Lesser Spot !! Now where I lived at the time was not exactly teeming with Lesser Spots , and consequently it was not on my list. I had put in a lot of time and effort trying to see one .... I had even been to this magic wood several times before without any success ... but I'm A Persistent Old Hector ..well, I was then anyway. Anyway, this time I got the thing ... and with excellent views too, so I was chuffed. And off I went to tell the waiting hordes all about how make mathematics bearable. So ... that was all good. But ... exactly 16 years later, I found something else ..but at the time I didn't think it was anything special. It was a Wednesday, by the way. I had trundled to a good local coastal spotting-spot, but didn't really see much, but when I went back to the car, there was a fine male Wheatear hopping about merrily. Very nice. It's a bit early, I thought, so I gave it a good scoping just to make sure it wasn't one of those other sorts of Wheatear which are sent try us ... and sure enough, it wasn't. It was a bang-to-rights, bog-standard Wheatear. But ... rather nicely, there was something special about it, but I didn't find out about it for a while ... and then I discovered that it was the first Wheatear in the whole country .... I looked at the message closely to see if it was a misprint for " first in the whole county" ... but no, it said "country" all right. Woo! Briwsion ! It might also have been the earliest EVER in Lancashire ..for that is where I was living at the time. I was quietly chuffed. Two entirely different events .... with different sorts of marvellousness. I now have a dilemma ..... I want to get to 400 posts on the last day of the month, exactly 365 days after I started this rather odd blog. I could miss a day,which would be a bit strange, and lounge about reading Bats for Beginners or whatever, as you do, or I could write something but call it #399b. Decisions, decisions ! [ Worry not ... I've thought of something .... ]
[ Update ... I've noticed on the LDBWS website that my "earliest Lancashire Wheatear" record has been equalled today !! What a wonderful coincidence.... I hadn't even thought about that sighting for ages. Mind you, it was very much on the cards with this exceptional warm weather coming up from Africa. ] Hilbre is an island off the Wirral coast .... well, a group of islands really .... there's an even smaller bit below that small one. I expect that's why it got called Middle Island. ... and , it was on the news this morning because quite a few people had to be rescued by "the-coastguard-boaty-thing". I've not been there for many years ... but I did go quite a few times when I "lived" in the resplendent town of Widnes. When I decided to write a bit about it, I started wondering if it was the first island I'd ever been on. I think it was. I would get the train first thing in the morning,complete with cheese sandwiches and an apple and a Kit-Kat and a bottle of pop, the train would trundle under the Mersey and alongside the lovely North Wirral coastline and off I would get at West Kirby. That's when the fun began .... it is a long, long arduous slog out to Hilbre ... and you have to time it right, otherwise you'll get swept away into oblivion if you get it wrong. Obviously, dear readers, I did get the timing right ,and am therefore still alive to write this. But that, no doubt, is why those hordes of holiday-ers had to be rescued yesterday. But why would anyone be mad enough to go there ? Well, 'tis the birds. Waders. You get there, the incoming tide sloshing and slurping round your ankules, your feet are therefore froz, you make your way past Little Hilbre and Middle Hilbre onto your actual Hilbre and you watch as the tide pushes thousands of waders almost into your coat pockets as you wait, shivering and knackered and windswept ½ to death. Maybe even ¾ ..... or even, in really duff weather, 0.9 recurring. Brrrrr. It's a good job they came so close, because I didn't have any binoculars ... but the good thing was, there were always other birdwatchers there there who did. In those days "we" were all "birdwatchers." And hardly anybody had a jellyscope. Blimey.... and you certainly wouldn't want to cart one over to Hilbre .... you would probably sink deep into the hungry sludge before you got 50 yards ... yes, we had "yards" back then. All 36" of them. So ... we would spend a couple of hours mainly shivering and borrowing other peoples' bins, seeing close-up views of Oiks and Turnstones and Knots and Dunlins and the like as the tide swept in. We ignored the occasional yells and screams of those silly people who had read the wrong page of their tide table and were therefore being whooshed out into the Irish Sea, because there was nowt we could do about it, basically. No mobiles, no nowt. Happy days ! There's lots that can go wrong with Tide Tables you know. Yes, the previously-mentioned "wrong page" scenario, then there's "forgetting about BST/GMT", and there's reading the "sunrise" column or the " moon-set" column by mistake .... it's a wonder anyone survives the trip at all. Some silly sods ,as they sink for the 3rd and last time, suddenly remember they've used last years blasted tide tables by mistake. You've got to wonder why all tide tables, year after year, look exactly the same as last year's when you get them out of your pocket/glove compartment... is it just a way of thinning out the twerps and numptys ? Er .... probably. We always stick a nice picture on the front of ours, so we know we're reading the right one. This year we've got that Michael Gove on ours. It seems to work. By the way, the famous Roger Tory Peterson was "on" Hilbre once. They commemorated his visit with a fine statue but it was unfortunately swept out to sea when some not-yet-thinned-out twerpkin used a proof copy of next year's tide table by mistake. It's out there somewhere at the bottom of the Irish Sea right now, like that first pair of binoculars of mine. ( It's a wonder that there's any room for boats and things to trundle around the Irish Sea, it's so full of binoculars and statues and the like.) Then, of course, even more froz than before, only ¼ alive, leaving a few dead and dying birdwatchers behind, we would stagger back to Hoylake, crawl onto the train, and slowly thaw out while we all got back to whichever Merseyside-Related Dump we "lived" in. And then, if it had existed, I would have listened to this gorgeous song...... Here's some odd sentences for you ..and I've tried to make them odder as they go on ... if such a thing is possible ... [a] I hope we're exploring Annet today as promised, Percival ! [b] This cyclotron has a faulty gyro .... bin it at once Raymondo ! [c] See if there's an electric eel in net 47 Geraldine , and put your hat on first ! [d] I really dislike that urn's tone, I think I'll repaint it a brighter green. [e] There's that mysterious plank notched with strange symbols ..... leave it alone ! [f] I've just spotted Roo, Kanga and Winnie in the 100 Acre Forest. [g] Actually darling, I think I will etch it on the sideboard instead. [h] Remember Wilhemina ,if they give you any aggro, use it against them . [i] Do not allow Rentokil to exterminate your cat, Boris. [j] The well-known red-neck, Ed P. Hala, roped himself to a barge yesterday. [k] Mr. Allen S. Gallinu leaned nonchalently against a lamp-post. [l] Through my favourite scope, a Kowa, X-wing fighter planes can be spotted from enormous distances. [m] Alfred's tart looks like a bit of a goer ! [n] " Are you an Arab" Ian Babble requested . [o] Over the years as he got old and wizened, Bart ailed. G. Odwit, his doctor, only gave him 10 minutes to live. [p] "Oh, what horrible decor" Mo ranted ! [q] "Have we got any cash ?" "O, use Martin's" Fenella yelled. [r] Move that special pine SW 1 ft shouted Bernard stentoriously. [s] Tell me your name and ship ! "Certainly",I'm Hubert S. Potle, "SS STARL" in grating tones. [t] "Who is she, and where is she sitting ? " asked Grant O'Cardigan. "It is my betrothed, G.E. Spar , row 7", replied Arthur helpfully. [u] "Look, a snacking fish ! " erupted the exuberant Brian. [v] "You seem to have a black head", Ed B. Unting remarked. [w] At last, Gavin's truss tilts, and Pip erases the score. [x] " Who is that dashing young man, and what does he do for a living ?" " It is William Squac, co-hero" Norman replied proudly. [y] Dagmar bled tea, limped into the room and collapsed dramatically. [z] "I am Roy, Alternative Comedian" boasted a rather bumptious upstart. [µ] "My plane is ready for anything, bar "Red War", Bleriot stated emphatically !" Well, there you have it .... such as it is. But, if you crave more of the same sort of thing, there's a whole truckful of them all made ( by me ) into a gripping tale of derring-do at the end of this helpful link ...... 41-the-case-of-the-tearful-mariner.html I've also made a mathematical one, but it wouldn't be appropriate ... mind you, what are birds ( and us) but mathematics in action ? Well ... aren't we ? And, to soothe the weary brow now the day is done .... some music..... We're having the music first today, pop-pickers .... sung beautifully by Dominique A, whom I once described as "two rugby players welded together" .... who just happens to sing like an angel ... But why ? ... well, that song reminded me of a remarkable passage in Kenn Kaufman's terrific book, Kingbird Highway .... but first, what sort of a book is it ? Yes, he really did all that ... and the book is crammed with all the things he did, all the birds he tracked down, all the people he met , all the incidents that happened. If any book can be described as a rollercoaster, this one is the one . My copy is a bit special, by the way .... So ... all that stuff in the song about birds courageously facing the icy winds evokes a long episode in the book where they sat out a huge, freezing coastal storm surrounded by masses of windblown birds, particularly Myrtle Warblers, most of whom presumably perished in their many thousands. That icy storm starts on p 82 ... and carries on to page 93 ..... such is the magnitude of the event. Mind you, that's in my "uncorrected proof" ..it might be different in the real thing. And here's another thing .... it's a big book ... 300 + pages . Remember my "index" thing ... "every book should have one" ... well, maybe the "final" version does have ..... it would be terrific.... so many things happen. If that isn't a recommendation, I don't know what is. And if you don't believe me, here's some reviews ... What a great read! As a birder I knew of this book as it is occasionally mentioned in other birding sources. It covers a roughly two year period when the author who was still in his teens and with a passion for birding that was quite remarkable for a teenager in 1970's America, sets out on a birding odyssey. As he hitchhikes round the mainland US he recounts his interactions with other birders, the birds he sees, and his experiences on the road. What could have been a boring checklist is so much more due to the descriptions, the flowing narrative and sufficient biographical material to link it all together. It becomes inspiring.. so much so that my teenage son is now reading it and enjoying it. (He is also a fairly avid birder so that helps!) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A twitcher's classic. But more than this. An example of a twitcher who comes to realise there's a greater depth to birding and bird science and protection. And what a story of an intrepid youngster hitchhiking round the states living on very little and sleeping rough. Impressive drive and ability an example to us all. Birders of whatever persuasion must read this one. Not only birders either, the book has much wider appeal as a truly inspirational travel log. Fantastic! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This is the best book of this genre that I have read. Kenn can write (or has a very good editor!) In many ways it is two stories in one. Obviously, it is about an obsessive bird-lister. But, at the same time, it is the story of how Kenn matures 'on the Kingbird Highway' and the scope of his obsession widens so that today he is a widely respected field ornithologist. It's also an interesting travelogue of some of the more obscure parts of North America. My favorite bit, I think, is where he meets a young woman as he hitchhikes the south of the USA and they head for the nearest rubbish dump to look for some Mexican crows - or perhaps it is the description of his time in the Pribilofs, certainly the most evocative of his many descriptions of places visited. I think that casual birders, as well as dedicated twitchers, would enjoy this one. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Reminds me of my misspent youth! But a great read for any birder! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Any day could be a very special day, and probably will be, if we just go out and look." This is Kenn Kaufman's life philosophy and living his philosophy he dropped out of his high school at age 16 and thumbed his way around America. Seeking his passion/obsession to see and list the birds of America. Two years later he started his "Big Year" - his goal to break the record of listing more species of birds in 365 days than any other person ever in this country. Kenn Kaufman lived his Big Year spending ~ $1000, half of this money went for flights to remote Alaskan Islands in search of migrants from Russia and beyond. He hitched and crisscrossed our country numerous times. He slept out in the open in all weather. He was frequently hungry, freezing cold or melting hot, and sleep deprived. At the end of the year, it wasn't the number of birds that he listed or whether he "won" that year's Big Year, that mattered. It was the journey and it was the birds that mattered. Kaufman exited that year with excitement and passion to go back and not only see but to observe all the species he had encountered. He wanted to know the birds in depth and fellow readers - that is exactly what Kenn Kaufman has done. In 2018 he is one of the most respected ornithologists in the world, a world renowned Author of Field Guides, and a leader in championing protection of habitats and environments for our wildlife of all kinds. Kenn Kaufman is one tough SOB, so suppress that snigger next time you see someone with a broad rimmed hat and a pair of binoculars with skinny legs. That Birder could likely hike you into the ground and has a passion,interest, and knowledge that is enviable. "But in the early 1970's, we were not birdwatching. We were birding, and that made all the difference. We were out to seek, to discover, to chase, to learn, to find ..." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Here's those two lines that reminded me to write about the book ... . Si seulement nous avions le courage des oiseaux
If only we had the courage of the birds Qui chantent dans le vent glacé Who sing in the icy wind Maybe I should write something short next time .... well, short-er perhaps. This would be my Team ... but which one's going to be the driver ? Here's the thing .. some might think I'm mad, some might say I'm asking for the impossible, some might say I'm living in the past .. I don't care. What everyone DOES know is that The Big Bird Race is one of the most entertaining BRBs in the Universe ... ( BRB = Bird-Related Books). I'm not saying that it's going to help your ID skills. I'm not claiming that it's going to impress your average "ornithologist." Or all those worthy types in the BTO. Nor all those high-ups in that "TURD-2" lot ! Nor the Low-Downs either . I don't think it is going to win any prizes for Progress in Avian Studies. And I do know that it is the most-likely-to-fall-apart book in the World. All that stuff IS NOT THE POINT ! The point is, I liked it, I still like it, and loads of other people like it. AND ... there was a film of it. It was only on the telly ONCE. And lots of people missed it. People ( such as ...me) therefore NEVER GOT TO SEE IT. Partly because I didn't have a telly until I was 32. Because that's how things were back in those candlelit, dreary times. There's been loads of people looking for it..... desperate hordes of them. Scavenging through the garages and abandoned warehouses of the land. Anyway ,as eny fule no, I like to provide solutions, instead of wittering on about problems. I know you were mighty impressed by my brilliant scheme for getting those two Waxwings on my house list. It's working too,,, they're already 28 tubs-up-the-road .... I've got the celebratory tin of Diet Coke ready for their arrival. I've also heard that there's been a big "run" on berry-bushes all over the UK. It's only a few posts back at 392 ..... woo. So ,,,here's my stunning, cunning, smart-as owt and do-able solution ... WHY DOESN'T " SOMEBODY " "DO IT" AGAIN !!??**$$$$~ !!!!!!!! Yes. It's brilliant. It won't be the same .... but it will be brilliant. And this time, the film of it all won't get lost, because nowadays you can watch things in about ( latest estimate) 73682 ways. Surely ONE of them is going to work whatever happens. But who's going to be in it ? Is "The Oddie" still up for it/ to it ? Is Chris Packham suitable ?? Ladies v.Gentlemen ? Twitchers v. Twerps ? Countryfile v Whatever-Watch ? Celebrity Birders v Other Celebrity Birders "The Kicked Off Springwatch" lot v " Their Replacements" ( yes !!) Lee Evans v The Rest There's so many exciting potential scenarios. Anyway, why have only 2 teams ? But I'm getting ahead of myself here ... it's only an "idea" so far. I've almost elevated it to a "concept". But I haven't got the media connections to get to the "project" stage. But now I've got the ball rolling, I'm expecting ACTION. I'm not going to be Trifled With .. .... or Cup-Caked, or Blancmanged ..... ... obviously, there'll be a pause for reflection ... but then ... get on with it I've written several times on here about my increasing reluctance to go chasing other people's birds. And how it is because it hits me harder when I don't "get" them. I think it is probably an "age" thing... or is it an "experience" thing ... or just sheer common-or-garden laziness ? And it is also related to the increasing difficulty of increasing whatever lists you keep as they get longer .... like climbing a mountain that just gets steeper and steeper until you just can't be arsed to go any further. I assume this happens to other birders too. Maybe even ... perish the thought ... some of you. This first time I got that feeling ... which I have christened " The Ruislip Effect" was a horrendous "dip" on Anglesey which involved dipping drastically on what would/should have been my first Rose-Coloured Starling. It actually didn't "matter" that much objectively, I've seen plenty of them since. .... I think the worst thing about it was that every blasted person in the little coastal village had seen it .....and they kept telling me how beautiful it was .... and how close they got to it ... ooooh ... that hurt ! But now, many years later, I've been there and done all that, and don't "need" to go chasing after other people's leftovers and then not sodding seeing them. BUT .... do other birders get to feel that way too ? Surely they must ..... (?) Any opinions/experiences etc will be welcomed at [email protected] ( Plus, of course, running a seaside bar restricts your chasing-things-around- capability considerably.) So ... that's your actual " Ruislip Effect" ... out in the open at last. I wonder .... is there a cure ? Perhaps being amazingly wealthy might do the trick .... And/or owning your own helicopter . ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Strangely, there are no songs about Ruislip. So ...here's an " of-its-time" song featuring Serge Gainsbourg ..... widely known as "big-ears" at Mini-Birding Towers .... we don't pull our punches ! Ce mortel ennui Qui me vient Quand je suis avec toi Ce mortel ennui Qui me tient Et me suis pas à pas Le jour où j'aurai assez d'estomac Et de toi Pour te laisser choir Ce jour-là, oh oui ce jour là, je crois Oui je crois Que Je Pourrai voir Ce mortel ennui Se tailler À l'anglaise loin de moi Bien sûr il n'est rien besoin de dire À l'horizontale Mais on ne trouve plus rien à se dire À la verticale Alors pour tuer le temps Entre l'amour et l'amour Je prends le journal et mon stylo Et je remplis Et les a et les o Il faudra bien que je me décide un jour Mon amour À me faire la malle Mais j'ai peur que tu n'ailles dans la salle de bains Tendre la main Vers Le Gardénal Comme je ne veux pas d'ennui Avec ma Conscience et ton père Je me laisse faire ! Between Dalton-in-Furness and Barrow there's a big garage ...well, there was .... all things must change you know. Anyway, the main attraction of this garage was a "tame" crow that spent a lot of its time actually in the office. Everybody knew it as " Corky the Crow" ..it was very personable and talkative. Plus, loads of people, me included, would often drop in to see if Corky was "in" and then they'd often buy a Mars Bar or an ice cream or whatever and all sides would be happy. What was especially good about Corky was .... he only "knew" one word. Plus a repertoire of croaks/squeaks/squawks etc. Of course. And that one word was a rather sarcastic-sounding "NO !" It was most effective .... especially when clients had actual business to do ...you would get things like ... Is my car ready yet ? NO !! You've had it for a week now !! NO! Will it be OK if my wife collects it tomorrow morning ? NO ! Can we pay by cheque ........... NO !!! NO !!!! NO !!!!! Good Morning NO ! Have you got a moment ? NO !! It was especially good when someone called on the phone .... if they didn't know about Corky it could all get a bit silly ..... Where's my car ? NO ! What do you mean , No ? Is it ready ?? NO ! NO !! Have you even got started yet ? NO !!!!! Look, forget the whole thing ... I'll just ( NO!!) come and (NO!!!) get it NO !!! This all provided great entertainment for the " customers", most of whom had probably popped in for entertainment purposes only. But Corky was at his best when interrupting ...... "Is my car NO ! still not NO!! ready ... NO!!!! because I did say NO!! I was going to need it NO!!!! by tomorrow NO ! morning at the latest NO !" He also had a good line in " odd croaks" which would often " go on" underneath many a conversation as a sort of running commentary ... Well, is still coming in under £200 then, which is what you said would be the top ................. no .... no ....NO !.... grrrrrrr cruuurrrrrrrr urch urch urch gach price when we talked on Wednesday ? That's what you said then... so ... no .... NO !! .... no.... grrrrrrr cruuurrrrrrrr urch urch urch gach gach .... Yes, it was all great fun for us " passers by" .... And .. talking "crows" are ubiquitous .... here's one ... .. and here's another ..... mind you, I think " NO" is much more entertaining ... .... This is an unusual one .... but it's very convincing ... Here's a bigger version ... rather cantankerous too .... Plenty more for you to find .... but I still think Corky was the best ..... but, of course, he is no more. And I don't know of any others round here ..... So ... here's a lovely and unusual bit of music ... it's the " Jupiter Jones" singer performing in English .... and it's a Counting Crows song ... "Round Here" It does rather show up our English monolingual speakers ... and it is also interesting seeing the age distribution of German audiences too. ... and with this video, you can sing along .. it's a lovely song .... |
AuthorThat's the author up there ... I was young and sprightly then. Archives
October 2022
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