A legend makes a good story. To win a ten-dollar bet, Hemingway wrote a six-word story. “For sale: baby shoes. Never worn.” Peter- a pondering mind – wrote another: Less painful and poignant, here’s mine Seagull swoops. Off go my chips. … Read more
A group of swans is a wedge when they’re in flight, likely because of the shape a group of swans takes in flight. And while we can call a group of swans a bevy, a herd, a game, or a flight, they can only be a bank when they’re on the ground. Merriam-Webster But there’s more: a gaggle of swans a whiteness of … Read more
It was Clive Bennett who got me traveling down this particular track. He’s a real birder and maintains a wonderful blog – Art in Nature – where he writes of his adventures in the hedgerows and fields and where he celebrates birds and the artists who paint them. In a comment on a post about … Read more
I found this on the London Library Advent calendar. Just the perfect image for anything a little Christmassy with a touch of vintage thrown in. This robin was for day 10. It was the perfect pic for the home-made greeting card. All of the images were interesting and here are a few more that … Read more
“You may wonder why we keep that window wide open on an October afternoon,” said the niece, indicating a large French window that opened on to a lawn. “It is quite warm for the time of the year,” said Framton; “but has that window got anything to do with the tragedy?” Framton Nuttel is in … Read more
Tweet Tweet There’s a blackbird in my mango tree and I think of Marley and singing songs of freedom I have followed birds from hills to home and back wondering where was Zion but now I am content on this verandah the blackbirds come to my mango tree and sing home is always where it’s … Read more
Blackbirds are notorious for being able to mimic the sounds they hear as they hop about the celestial chimney pots of suburbia. Ice cream van jingles, phone ring tones, car alarms and ambulance sirens – they can do the lot. John Drinkwater – born in Leytonstone, London – writes about the song of the blackbird … Read more
Coming by Philip Larkin On longer evenings, Light, chill and yellow, Bathes the serene Foreheads of houses. A thrush sings, Laurel-surrounded In the deep bare garden, Its fresh-peeled voice Astonishing the brickwork. It will be spring soon, It will be spring soon— And I, whose childhood Is a forgotten boredom, Feel like a child Who … Read more
Have you ever seen a ton of starlings or red-wing blackbirds swooping about in unison as if they were in some kind of mechanically choreographed mass ballet? Of course the correct and archaic collective nouns to use there would be murmuration for the starlings and cloud, flock, grind, or merl for the blackbirds. But whatever – you … Read more
BBC’s Radio 4 first tweet for 2014 was a thrush with a bright blue sky background and a quotation from The Darkling Thrush – a poem that Thomas Hardy dated December 31st, 1900. It’s all rather grim and gloomy. The poem records the desolation of winter, the dregs of the day and the end of … Read more
A bird the color of a stop sign. High on a tree at the Buttercup Farm Sanctuary. A scarlet tanager. My first sighting. A black-winged red bird. Tree swallows swooping, the insistent chipping of an elusive flycatcher and the headwaters of Wappingers Creek swirling down to the river. What a great place for a Sunday … Read more
