The University of the Self #83
Birdsong, Botany and Betterness Part 13
Birdsong, Botany and Betterness Part 13
This article is a continuation of part 12, which can be found here.
Read article 14 here.
…House Sparrow. I think in a past life, I was a caribou – a steady wanderer, a taster of lichens, a slow, focused swimmer of cold lakes, a snowbeard, wise-horn, with many snow-miles passing beneath my broad, deliberate feet.
Eurasian Tree Sparrow, Eurasian Linnet, Greylag Goose, Yellowhamer.
Perhaps in the winter, I will fantasise about the summer – eternal human dissatisfaction. Eurasian Kestrel. A fly wanders over this page – perhaps confused by these small black letters – perhaps it thinks they are kin. Bank Swallow. Distant Gulls – they have colonised everywhere but they still take me back to childhood camping holidays in Whitby – waking to know that you are at the seaside, the whole potential of the day spreading before you, magic carpet. To be someone else, so far from home. Have I always wanted to be someone else? I think so. I was born unbelonging.
Blackbird hen hopping around on the grass a few yards away, 8.45 a.m. European Robin, Eurasian Blackbird, Rook, Dunnock. 8.53 a.m.
2.35 p.m. A huge flock of Black-headed Gulls began to circle over the field – round and round. Eurasian Wren, European Goldfinch, Eurasian Blackbird, Common Wood Pigeon, Eurasian Linnet.
6 p.m. Back. Rainy, cool, damp.
Tempted out to the back by the calling of a Common Buzzard – directly opposite me on the other side of the field, perched in the top of a tree, I can see its muscle – the mournful, lonely line of its voice written towards me. Perhaps hungry, perhaps bedraggled.
Black-headed Gull, European Goldfinch, Common Wood Pigeon, Eurasian Blue Tit, Eurasian Wren (diving into the wildflowers), Carrion Crow, Eurasian Collared Dove, Greenfinch diving into the flowers also.
My son is here, so tired – I wish his life could be easier – I remember the hours, days, months and years of work stretching out before us. Sad and blue.
22nd July. Back. Very damp. Grey sky north. Cloud dispersing a little south. Misty. Bare feet. Feel crisp, but there is a hint of heat to come. 6.39 a.m.
Faraway sorrowing of Common Buzzard drifting down from the horizon, from Whittledene Wood. Common Wood Pigeon, Common Restart, Common Chiffchaff, Eurasian Wren, European Goldfinch, Eurasian Collared Dove, Houe Sparrow, Willow Warbler, Eurasian Boue Tit, Eurasian Blackbird, European Robin.
6.48 a.m., blackbird flies over with a beak full of grubs (male), 6.49 a.m., blackbird (female) lands on the grass two metres from where I am. Great Tit, Eurasian Skylark, Mistle Thrush, Sedge Warbler, Great Spotted Woodpecker, Ring-necked Pheasant, Carrion Crow, Eurasian Jay.
“I am studying music now with the jays, and find them charming artists.”
(Emily Dickinson, letter written 1882)
Tears in my eyes this morning – I feel as if I am saying goodbye to the Earth – that this peace is only an illusion, that humans will never learn to live in peace with one another – how can they then live in peace with nature?
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I pause briefly mid-article - as I promised in my previous article, here are the watercolour illustrations of the wonderful mushroom I spotted in the grass. It was so delicate and small, and translucent white. I did make a few attempts to identify it and came up with either the Pleated or Hare’s Foot Inkcap (both of which are beautiful, poetic names). They seemed incredibly short-lived - one theory could be that something nocturnal had munched on the few that grew. The other theory could be that their bloom is very short-lived. The Pleated Inkcap is apparently inedible and has a lifespan of 24 hours. Their fruiting bodies (what a wonderful, wonderful phrase) grow during the night after rain and can be dried up by early morning sun. Living, breathing, magical, poetic nature, writing its own stories in such a heart-wrenching, emotive way. I am so glad I have begun to learn how to read these stories.
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A Eurasian Oystercatcher flies into the west, European Goldfinch, Eurasian Linnet. The Buzzards are circling closer – they are today’s grief. A tiny female Sparrow gently landed in the plum tree, 1.5m from the bench to the right and watched me, tilting her head. Western House Martin, Song Thrush, Eurasian Tree Sparrow, Rock Pigeon (?), Coal Tit.
Droplets like beautiful moonstones clinging to the tips of downturned nettle leaves. Spotted Flycatcher. Horses wandering as they graze on Fieldhouse Farm, one piebald, one liver chestnut, gull flying east. Busy little flock of Goldfinch overhead swirl, switch, circle, flick, round and round, their small orbit of next door’s Silver Birch. 7.17 a.m.
23rd July, 8.15 a.m. Back. Chilly, very mizzly wet, grey fuzzy wet sky.
Common Wood Pigeon, European Greenfinch, European Goldfinch, distant Common Buzzard, Great Tit, Westers House Martin. Distant corvids.
Not much happening with the birds this morning, but how pleasant it is to sit under the huge umbrella while the rain dances around me and settles into the wildflowers. 8.37 a.m. Hibiscus is blooming – five flowers coming – been a slow rescue, but worth the wait. Feeing extremely wobbly and faint this morning. Knees seem to be flopping and trying to make me fall.
16.55 p.m. Back. Still chilly, wet, light breeze. Rained on and off all day.
Western House Martin, Bank Swallow, Ring-necked Pheasant, Eurasian Wren, Common Buzzard very distant, Great Tit, European Greenfinch. All birds taking full advantage of a break in the rain – sky is full of House Martins. Common Wood Pigeon, Common Chaffinch, Eurasian Blue Tit, Yellowhammer. 17.14 p.m., Beautiful Bladder Campion plant by the roadside on the hill up to Ovington – last year’s dried seed pods still there, gorgeous contrast with current blooms. Wrote and wrote my book – why (I wrote this as I had been working on another version of a book manuscript, in the vain hope I might send it somewhere, but it always feels so very pointless, and I can’t shake that feeling).
24th July, 5.40 a.m. Back. Grass still saturated. Damp cool air. Not so misty area of white cloud tinged with light, an opening in the grey sky. Weather might be warmer, dryer today? Birds out in force, catching up, making up for a quiet day yesterday.
Great Tit, Common Chaffinch, Common Wood Pigeon, Eurasian Bullfinch, Common Chiffchaff, Willow Warbler, Common Redstart, European Robin, Eurasian Blue Tit, Eurasian Wren. Two large Gulls flew over 5.32 a.m., flying so slowly, low – I could see their white heads peering about – not so much flying as gliding, seeming only to make the occasional movement with the end half of their wings. Pink horizon light to the east – an early train politely passing by. 5.56 a.m., the most beautiful, unusual call of a group of birds flying west along the river line – making the sound brr-brrrr-ooh-brr, brrr, brr, brrrrrrrrr-ooh-brr. I hold up my phone, call so clear, app gives back nothing. So frustrating. They were water birds I think?
Goldcrest. App not picking up corvids. European Herring Gull, Eurasian Linnet. 6.04 a.m., the two Herring Gulls fly back over, swooping and diving close together, crying out so stridently, howling-beautiful, dip and call, twist and turn. A courtship dance? Strong, marvellous birds, pale and knife-like.
Eurasian Magpie, Eurasian Jackdaw, Canada Goose, Eurasian Blackbird, European Goldfinch, Song Thrush – new flourish of white and pale purple tinged wildflowers through the field (I think they are Dame’s Rocket, though all the images I have seen seem to differ greatly. “Oh! that we had a book of botany”, wished Dorothy Wordsworth in her Grasmere Journals. Oh! that I could afford a plant identification app, might be the modern equivalent – and indeed I do. All the ones I have found so far seem to ask for paid subscription).
Eurasian Collared Dove, Eurasian Jay, Eurasian Moorhen – was this the unusual bird (that I heard earlier – I found a recording of them and it seems possible according to my vocal description)? Now it shows on the app.
I have seen them on the river along the Bywell Road. Wood Pigeon clattering clumsily about in nearby conifer trees. 6.22 a.m. Many tiny grey mushrooms growing in the grass.
7.45 a.m. Back, overcast but mild. Carrion Crow, Eurasian Blue Tit, Long-tailed Tit, European Goldfinch, Bank Swallow (?), Western House Martin, Eurasian Jackdaw, Yellowhammer, Eurasian Blackbird, Common Wood Pigeon, Great Tit, European Robin, Rook, Common Buzzard, Eurasian Linnet, Ring-necked Pheasant, Common Chaffinch, Eurasian Magpie.
Sunbeams piercing the clouds – a sight to truly nourish the soul. Eurasian Wren, Common Chiffchaff, Gray Partridge (?), Eurasian Kestrel – now I love the calls of raptors – especially the Buzzard – its sadness in the sky. 8.14 a.m.
25th July, 7.44 a.m. Back. Misty silver giving way to blue + skim of clouds. Going to be very hot.
Common Buzzard on the top of the opposite tree again, weee-wee-wee / wee-wee-wee-wee-wee. Crying constantly. Carrion Crows must be unhappy it is in their tree. Two Buzzards circled here the whole day yesterday, so high in the sky, calling all the time.
Common Wood Pigeon, Eurasian Blue Tit, Common Chaffinch, Eurasian Wren, House Sparrow, Common Chiffchaff, European Goldfinch.
So many thistles throughout the field have turned to thistledown – for all the world as if there had been a dusting of snow, so thick it is. Western House Martin, Great Tit. I was trying to write a poem last night and I simply couldn’t. Nothing would come. It was very late, 10 p.m., too late for my head. Spent a very busy day trying to make more stock for the book fair. Left arm and shoulder in agony. Rashes from the pain itching my ankles so much I was driven to distraction.
Eurasian Siskin, Bank Swallow. I am trying to make the most from this moment but my husband has lost his bank card (again) and is communicating his stress, so the calm is lost. Ring-necked Pheasant. Crow is flying west making the sweetest babble-croon sound. Eurasian Linnet, Eurasian Magpie.
Rejection from a literary agent last evening – trying not to let it crush my soul like a stone. What a fool’s mission – to think there might be interest in my prose!
21.09 p.m. Back, dusk falling, pink-tinged clouds to the east, still barely a breeze, peaceful. Trying to catch up on the mindfulness that seemed unachievable all through today. When someone else is high-stress it has a horrible effect on you. All day on edge, failing to grasp any inner calm – massive sensory overload – demands from husband and son bouncing off my head.
Pink-tinged clouds over the north – cherry pink. Sudden sense of it darkening, the nights are creeping back in. Continued wrestling with a poem today – it’s about thistles – thistles have been on my mind the last few days. Thistles and Emily Dickinson, who is much occupying me of late. First the Susan Howe book, now the Mavis Loomis Todd. In and out of the Werner (I don’t know why I wrote ‘Werner’ – I meant Vendler, with many apologies, but I am human and make mistakes) as well.
Eurasian Linnet, Common Wood Pigeon. Blackbird swoops low over the flowers, House Martins flying west. So beautifully quiet tonight – barely a whisper – the buzzing of a bee behind me. Sky deepening, pinkening. Almost strangely silent. Never did a cup of tea feel so nourishing. 21.27 p.m., Pipistrelle. Eurasian Oystercatcher.
26th July, 7.10 a.m. Back. Some stripes of white-blue sky lower on horizon, huge sky above a soft grey-mauve. Cool, still, damp, earthy wet smell.
As I made my way to the bench, I was accompanied by the distant Common Buzzard’s piercing sound, again to the north. Just now, 7.17 a.m., the most incredible moment – about 8 yards from where I quietly sit, a tiny, achingly beautiful Treecreeper flew onto the cherry sapling and wound its way around the branches like a clockwork mouse. Then it flew on to the elfin apple next to it, then flew into the hedge behind.
A European Robin is happily burbling in the Silver Birch next door. A Eurasian Wren makes its drilling sound to my right. Common Chaffinch, Carrion Crow, Barn Swallow, European Goldfinch, Eurasian Blue Tit, European Greenfinch, Common Wood Pigeon, Great Tit.
The 684 bus passes by – my favourite ever bus (7.23 a.m.), the bus I rarely catch on my scant excursions. Eurasian Jackdaw. Terrible night’s sleep following yesterday’s multitude of stresses. I tried to walk too far last evening and could not sleep for the awful pains and cramps which seemed to be crushing and twisting my shins…
“There is another sky, ever serene and fair, and there is another sunshine,
though it be darkness there; never mind faded forests…never mind silent fields—
here is a little forest, whose leaf is ever green; here is a brighter garden, where
not a frost has been; in its unfading flowers I hear the bright bee hum…”
(From a letter written by Emily Dickinson, 1851)
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