birds – Page 7 – don't confuse the narrator

for the birds

Visiting the Google page this morning, I discovered it was the anniverary of the birth of John James Audubon. Why Google had chosen to commemorate the 226th anniversary, I don’t know, but they had one of their doodles depicting a number of the birds drawn by Audubon.

(Incidentally, that link to the Google doodles page is worth a click – it appears to lead to an archive of the different logos they’ve used in all the different language and geographic versions of the Google page.)
Continue reading “for the birds”

bird watching

The cat in the picture – who, I’ve just realised, was one year old yesterday – would, presumably prefer to have dinner on the wing than settle for the supermarket kibble we bought last time.

The birds actually built the nest directly above the cat-house where the kittens were being nursed last spring, which seemed a little fool-hardy. I assume it’s the same pair that have come back this year and refurbished it.

If I thought long enough, I expect I’d come up with a pun on ‘swallow’, but since the blog has been a bit neglected recently, maybe I’ll leave that up to the readers.

fine feathers three

The discussion about el Centro Educativo Los Morales and whether it might be a centre for teaching lost morals made me think of Thomas Hardy’s The Ruined Maid. I’ve always been fond of ‘Melia.

I suspect her “bright feathers three” would have been rather more ostentatious than the ones I’ve found to illustrate the post, but the cats don’t get much chance at anything more colourful round here.

I think the black and white one came from a woodpecker, and, as far as I know, was shed naturally. The blue one is from a rabilargo, whose wing was left on my doorstep, presumably as a comment on the inadequacy of a kibble diet for outdoor cats. And the rather fine spotted quill is one I picked up from a pile of feathers in the olive grove next door. Whether the cats worked as a team to bring down one of the neighbour’s guinea fowls, I don’t know, but I’d have thought it would have been too big a job for one on their own.
Continue reading “fine feathers three”

anthological exercise

I’m pretty sure I’ve read that Wordsworth wrote his poems while out walking, and that the rhythm of his strides helped him work out the metre. (Pause here for a link to Lynn Peters’ Why Dorothy Wordsworth is not as famous as her brother.)

I try and walk every day, even if it’s only down to the post office to check the mail box. I walk in the hope that I’ll get ideas to write about; I walk to iron out the pieces I am working on; and I walk for exercise. Yesterday was the first reasonable day for a while when I was free to take time for a longer walk, so I went round the reservoir.

I didn’t find any inspiration for new poems; I did, however, find a whole anthology of old favourites.
Continue reading “anthological exercise”

bluebirds

I’ve always said I don’t really like birds, but for some reason there are lots of them in my poetry.

We’re fortunate to have pine forest, olive groves, the river and other habitats here that provide homes for a variety of species. The most impressive ones that actually come into the garden include hoopoes and jays, the occasional woodpecker, and one of my favourites, the rabilargo – literally ‘long-tail’ – the azure-winged magpie. Sadly, although these flock in huge numbers – I swear I counted 50 last Tuesday – I’ve never managed to get any kind of adequate picture.
Continue reading “bluebirds”