One bright March day a pretty little bird came back to England. He was a lively little fellow, pale grey on his back, creamy below, with black wings and tail, and white on his forehead. (Any idea so far about what "he" is ?) He sat on a fence, jerking his tail, then darted quickly , with a flash of white ,to perch on a tree, crying all the time "Chik! Chak! Chak!." ( You should know by now ) Soon he made his way to the wide moorlands, and there he found himself a little mate. She was not so gaily dressed as he, but wore browner feathers. ( I wonder how long ago this drippy description was written ) In April they built a nest carefully hidden away in a crevice in a rock. They built it with grass, moss, rabbit fur and feathers. Six pale blue eggs were laid in it. ( That's quite a few more clues for you .... ) When the babies arrived, both parents were busy birds, flashing and darting about catching insects by the beakful, to feed their hungry children. ( So, they're insectivores then) The young ones left the carefully hidden nest as soon as they could flutter and hop. When autumn came they flew away again to a warmer country. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ More about that after the music .... That rather twee little passage was from a really ancient book (1950's ?) called Birds of Moorland Hill and Sea, written by Elizabeth Gould and illustrated by Raymond Sheppard.
That's what a lot of bird books were like in those days. Here's the " of its time" cover....
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I expect you've all got mugs with birds on them.... it is the inevitable result of being a birdwatcher/ornithologist/twitcher/birder/bird lover/dude etc..... ..here's a couple of them as an example ... but which has the most birds ? It looks to me as if the one on the left is the winner .... but it may be that the one on the right has loads more birds on it than the one on the left ... hiding round the back. Anyhow, here's the thing. Somebody out there in the Real World has got The Mug With The Largest Number Of Birds On It. It might be you !!! So, dear readers both, if you have any Bunged-Up-With-Birds-Mugs why not send images of them to me, preferably of both sides of course for adjudication purposes. And talking of birds, here's a beautiful, if rather sad song about , er ,birds ... sung by a bloke who has been described as two rugby players glued together ...... .... by me, actually.
Anyway, I look forward to an avalanche of Mug-shots with loads of birds on them. My email address is, as always, [email protected] You lucky lot! .. here's my latest "collection" of "poetry" written by "ME" !! This one was from post # 1070 ( a bit late,actually )( perhaps my muse is waning ) You can see the whole gripping post at the end of this nifty link 1070-hey-us-birders-are-all-self-taught.html We're all self-taught Now that's a thought Years of getting it right .. and wrong And learning every call and song And every day there's more mistakes But worry not ... that's what it takes. Who knows how many thousand days to know the birds and all their ways it takes .... and all those miles to walk and cycle, drive and hitch and stalk to see, or not to see, "the" bird. The whole palaver's quite absurd but we do it, we love it so Till our last breath, Hey ho! Hey ho ! We haven't had a "poem" for ages and this one went through many stages and lots of hastily discarded pages and NOTHING in the way of "WAGES" ! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This next one was from post 1074 .... and it gets to the real reason for Dominic Cumming's trip to Barnard Castle ... and there's a challenge for you towards the end .... good luck with that.... The reason he drove forty miles to get to Barnard Castle was nowt to do with relatives, they're nothing but a hassle his real aim was twitching, 'cos on those castle walls the target bird had shown quite well, the watchers all enthralled ! but that was twenty mins ago Oh no! Oh no !! Oh noooo ! I know that's just a silly rhyme (a better one I couldn't find) The crowd was getting out of hand And Dominic and his merry band (that's all his family in the back) Were desperate to tick the mega It was a quite elusive beggar ! Dom's eyesight wasn't up to much So he raised his pricey nockers He always carried 30 pairs Each in their individual lockers It's the sort of thing rich people do To show they're richer than me or you. It showed again, to his delight And I spotted it, though time was tight dos gris, ailes rouges, bordées de noir, Gorge noire aussi, we yelled "phwoaar" !! But what it was you ought to know The evidence is all on show. I really enjoyed writing that, and I hope Dom would enjoy it too. You can read the whole articule at the far end of this link ... 1074-dcs-real-reason-for-going-to-barnard-castle.html ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This dinky poem was about a sort of year-ticking race that involved spotting all the birds in The Observer's Book of Birds in reverse order over a calendar year. Many will remember the mega-daunting task Involving the Observers Book of Birds What could it be ? , you're sure to ask ... it seems to have attracted lots of nerds read on, read on, you birders, and see what's to be done its just about absurd as a woodlouse marathon ! If you want to see the whole thing, here's the link to it .... 1086-retrograde-year-ticking.html you know you want to ... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Ted filled his bins with Helium He thought he'd made them lighter He sealed it in with chewing gum Which made them rather shite-er ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ RSPB underpants only cost 4 quid I'm zipping out to get some, like everybody did They're not really up to much, I wish I hadn't now Their droopyness is chronic, making me look like a cow ! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I'm going to scribble something nice About The Flat Controller But I cant think of owt at all Except -um, -oh and -er. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ At Grumbling Stumps a special bird has got very hard to see It is normally dead easy, and it's on the sightings board But NOBODY has spotted one, so it isn't only me I've pished and squeaked and pinged, and got terminally bored ! The management don't like to say that some bird isn't there They need to shovel people in , though it isn't really fair. Profit before principles now seem to be the rule And we, who spend their money, are treated like a fool ! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I've got a little book of birds The Waxwing turns up first. The Hoodie's next ( a bit absurd) I suppose it could be worse Next up is the cheery Chough Then the Ouzel (Ring) appears And then the Mistle Thrush The Dipper's next, then Bunting (Reed) Then finches Chaff- and Haw- You've now got everything you need So.. what was the next I saw ? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I hope that all those verses were reasonably OK And here's a song about those somewhat sultry "nuits d'été ." I found this mini-essay in a remarkable and unusual book called "101 Experiments in the Philosophy of Everyday Life" ( by Roger Pol-Droit) . The book consists of 101 " everyday adventures" each of which can each become the starting point for that astonishment which becomes philosophy. Other examples are, for instance, the strange feeling you get when coming out of a darkened cinema into the light and bustle of a sunny day, or inventing other lives for yourself, driving through a deep dark forest, or strangest of all, pissing and drinking a big glass of water simultaneously. Have fun !!! So ...here's one ....... CONTEMPLATE A DEAD BIRD Duration 10 to 15 minutes. Props a dead bird, preferably dead for several days Effect meditative They're to be found pretty much everywhere in the country. Especially in spring or in the middle of summer. Either a fledgling fallen from the nest, or a juvenile attacked by a hawk or an adult riddled with shot. The causes are not your concern. The why and the wherefore. Rather than walk on, leaving the dead bird behind, you will stop and contemplate it. Look closely at the dulled feathers, often covered with dust or a bit of earth. Observe its eye, coloured or whitish or eaten out, and the ants coming and going,and makbe a few maggots. note its claws, quite still, abandoned, twisted. Look for the bones, so slender and so visible. Above all, remark the whole attitude of abasement and loss, the way a dead bird is so thoroughly a corpse, muddied and humiliated, in the truest sense, and yet it knows nothing of all this, and escapes from it into a depth quite alien to sleep. If you look closely enough, you'll probably find the sight a sad one initially. A life snuffed out. A body misplaced, a bird lying on the ground, all stiff. Something resembling defeat and failure. The experiment consists in going beyond that, by seeing more and more clearly and distinctly. You see that the bird will never live again. And also that it feels nothing. That is how it is, beyond help and complaint. Innocent of nostalgia or recrimination. The longer you look the clearer it should become that there is nothing ,concerning this little corpse, which can be cause for regret. There is only the present. And you start to realise that it is perfect. Because it is the only tense there is. At first, this is incomprehensible. Strictly speaking, it may never be given to us really to understand, only to feel. What you will grasp, however, if you open your eyes wide enough, is that there is no other world to see. That everything, absolutely everything, is here and now. In the present, as it occurs. There is nothing elsewhere, or before, or anywhere in space or time, that is different, better, preferable, comparable, regrettable. Nothing but this. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Maybe we should thing of dying as a sort of "Last Dance" ..... I switched the TV on first thing, hoping for the weather forecast. But seemingly EVERY BLASTED CHANNEL was either Tokyo Olympics or hyperactive yelling- and-shouting- ITV-type crap plus, interminable bloody adverts. Cack, basically. The Olympics are full of people kicking each other, punching each other, running faster than each other, throwing big heavy things things .... 90% of it is violent. And utterly, utterly pointless. So ... I suggest that each Olympics should have a sort of " Big Bird Race" event. The audience could watch the frantic actions of the teams on a whole bank of huge screens, or of course on their laptops ..and it could be transmitted all over the world. How educational it would be for our UK bird-spotters to get a good look at Japanese birds, and, of course, the top bird-spotters from many different countries ! No kicking, no punching, no pointless going round and round on a bike for miles and miles, no ridiculous rubbish like pommel-twirling / marathon-running/ pole-stupid-vaulting/ hammer-throwing and the like ... just finding birds. How lovely !! Anyway, that's my IDEA OF THE DAY ... and I'm going to write to my MP suggesting all of that, and I am sure that both of my readers will do the same. ...and now, a stirring anthemic, German song ... "Days Like These" .. just about every wedding "do" ,every birthday party, every christening finishes up with this gorgeous song ..... "Tage wie diese " .. and here's the words, English and German ... for you to sing along with .. erstaunlich !
On the radio this morning someone was wondering about what percentage of the British population have been on television. Not just all those newsreaders and the cast of Eastenders ... but just ordinary people who get filmed walking down the Portobello road ( as I have done many times) when the real actual target is some presenter telling us viewers about empty shops, or the scandal of homelessness, and "ordinary people" are there in the background, doing whatever ordinary people do. There's all those posh people at The Antiques Road Show, or people who are driving along the A6 and get televised for a feature about the deadliness of electric cars and their deadly silence. I reckon that would be quite a high percentage ...... er, 63% ? -ish. ?? That could well include you ..or me . So ...naturally, as you do, I thought ..... ...... what percentage of the UK bird population have actually been seen by us humans ? Having thought about it, I would suspect it turns out to be a lot lower than we might think. My guess ...... 8%. And what about that % for all the birds in the world ? That surely would be a tiny tiny % !! My guess ....... 0.1 %. As usual, I've given you a lot to think about ... should you wish to do so. If any of my faithful readers ( Sandra and Colin Mablethorpe, 315 Limes Alley, Leeds) know owt about all that, kindly let me know. OK then .. music time ... it's sort of relevant .... According to my calculations, the local Swifts have been around for 99 days. And I am given to understand that they bog off after 100 days. So .. it will be interesting to see if that is what happens. I've written quite a bit about Swifts .... here's some links ... 51-the-cliff-lift-swift-and-other-mythical-birds.html 142-do-our-swifts-breed-in-africa-as-well.html 377-the-demise-of-the-swift-and-how-to-stop-it.html 466-how-do-we-know-when-spring-has-sprung.html 515-the-return-of-the-swift.html The next conundrum is .... can Swifts actually count to a hundred ? Probably not ... there must be "something else " " going on." We had two good birds in the garden early this morning . First up, an excellent Jay ... they're very sporadic these days. Second up, a fine juv Gt. Spot ... but where's the adults ? Well, lots to think about there ...... so, here's the music ... ... a rather sad but beautiful Spanish song ... " golondrinas = Swallows Cada día un poco más despacio
pero sin embargo siempre vuelvo a comenzar Después de cualquier frase bonita al oido como cualquier aspirante desconocido, me pongo a llorar.. Inesperada sensación la de estar sola con tanta gente alrededor Lo de antes, Lo de siempre, Lo de ahora todo junto me hace delirar A borrachera diaria se me olvida. ESTRIBILLO Cuando mueren las malditas golondrinas ya no vuelven nunca a la ciudad Los montones de momentos que pase contigo a solas ya no volverán. (x2) si no entiendes que en la vida necesitas también aprender a ganar Me dijo un caballero inglés perdido en Buenos Aires que ahora vive en Madrid Yo le dije al invierno que en otoño a algunas de ellas ya las vi pasar Desnuda por la calle en primavera ya no hay flores que plantar. ESTRIBILLO Cuando mueren las malditas golondrinas ya no vuelven nunca a la ciudad Los montones de momentos que pase contigo a solas ya no volverán. Como un potro desbocado e indigente que no ha estado y sin aire ya alargando hasta el máximo cada suspiro en las subidas de felicidad. POSTSCRIPT .. It's now the evening of the 26th July .... and the local Swifts seem to have gone. They'll be sadly missed. Here's the Rowan tree in the garden next door. You can't miss it ... But ... here's the thing..... every year, the berries appear, and within a couple of days they have all been gobbled up by blackbirds, starlings and various other avian goodie-gobblers. SO ... why ..why oh why ..... have they not eaten them this year ? Is it the searing heat .. locally dubbed " The Flintshire Furnace" ? Probably not. Is it the lack of fruit-eating birds ? No. Is it Covid restrictions ? Not right now ... but the rules change hourly. Maybe minutely .. which is a bit ambiguous. Does it mean "every minute", or does it mean "only in a small way.?" Any or all of your ideas will be welcomed ...... as a comment, and/or to [email protected] And here's another thing. A baffling-thing. Over the last ten days or so, when I go out first thing to replenish the seed feeder, somehow or other something or other has found a way to open up the "sliding-door-in-the-roof-of-it" . Yes. It's not as if it's a doddle. I find it quite awkward to open myself. So that's another thing. And here's the next Conundrum Of The Day..... Do birds shit in flight ? I've often watched multitudinous murmurations comprising tens of thousands of starlings, and I've never seen one of them shitting. ( It passes the time). So there we are. Baffled ..or maybe ....not. If only we were forever young, we might just crack those tricky conundrums ... Extra bonus question ... how many birds are in that tree ?
Here's a heavily edited version of an " account" about a rare bird .... Range. Breeds from eastern Canada and north-eastern USA, west to British Columbia and Colorado. It winters in northern South America. Occurrences. There are three British records : a first-winter trapped at Porthgwarra on 6th October 1970; another first-winter trapped on Lundy, Devon, from 10th October to 11th November 1987; and an individual on North Uist, Western Isles, on 20-28 October 1995. Towards the end of its stay the Lundy bird became readily visible at the top of Millcombe Valley, enabling crowds of birders to visit the island and see it. Identification. It has a distinctive, slightly mournful "wi-er" or "quier" call, which allows easy detection. ( It doesn't matter if you don't know ... there's no pressure ) There you are then ....... straight on to the music .. I know how you all like poems about birds. So, you're in luck ..... I'm going to write some .... ... but why ?, you ask . Mainly because its nearly time for the 1000-1099 collection .. which is a bit thin on the ground. Here we go then ... Ted filled his bins with Helium He thought he'd made them lighter He sealed it in with chewing gum Which made them rather shite-er ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ RSPB underpants only cost 4 quid I'm zipping out to get some, like everybody did They're not really up to much, I wish I hadn't now Their droopyness is chronic, making me look like a cow ! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I'm going to scribble something nice About The Flat Controller But I cant think of owt at all Except -um, -oh and -er. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ At Grumbling Stumps a special bird has got very hard to see It is normally dead easy, and it's on the sightings board But NOBODY has spotted one, so it isn't only me I've pished and squeaked and pinged, and got terminally bored ! The management don't like to say that some bird isn't there They need to shovel people in , though it isn't really fair. Profit before principles now seem to be the rule And we, who spend their money, are treated like a fool ! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I've got a little book of birds The Waxwing turns up first. The Hoodie's next ( a bit absurd) I suppose it could be worse Next up is the cheery Chough Then the Ouzel (Ring) appears And then the Mistle Thrush The Dipper's next, then Bunting (Reed) Then finches Chaff- and Haw- You've now got everything you need So.. what was the next I saw ? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ That should be enough ....... so it is now Music Time .. |
AuthorThat's the author up there ... I was young and sprightly then. Archives
October 2022
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