The University of the Self #88

Birdsong, Botany and Betterness Part 18

Birdsong, Botany and Betterness Part 18
This article is a continuation of part 17, which can be found here.

Image description: this is my watercolour painting of a group of Snowberries amongst green leaves and brown stalks. The painting is done on white textured watercolour paper and there is a green wash in the background. There are six plump white berries in a group, all have brown speckles and calyxes on them. There are six early-forming berries in a group below, which are much smaller, with light green bellies tapering into pink calyxes.

Image description: a page from a notebook - the page is cream with faded stains and age marks upon it. Written in black ink are lists of birds and some notes - these birds and notes are listed below.

9.58 a.m. Front. Windy, chilly, grey. Really seems as if rain is coming. I felt as if I must sit outside – I opened the front door and stepped into a wild cacophony of bird noise – are they calling in a storm? Weather getting wilder. Birds are swirling against the wind in the sky and zipping in and around the trees. The Seven seem as if they are bowing.

Long-tailed Tit, European Greenfinch, Common Wood Pigeon, Eurasian Linnet – peeow, peeow. Barn Swallow, Rook, European Goldfinch, Eurasian Jackdaw, Great Tit, Goldcrest, Westers House Martin, Eurasian Blue Tit. Picked up Eurasian Nuthatch again (I did wonder, as it seems sparse in the north, but I’ve picked it up before and its voice was so individual and clear that I do not doubt), Coal Tit.

Gosh, that is a cool wind. Perhaps I should put a jumper on. Neighbour panic-mowing their grass before the rain hits – I don’t doubt it is coming – 10.10 a.m.

1 p.m., just coming out of the back covered-in area where I have been sewing for a couple of hours – in time to see a beautiful, slender Kestrel flying over to the west, like a slow arrow.

18.00 p.m. Back. Very windy. Turned out boiling hot in the end. Bright, sunny afternoon. Cooled down now. Been very busy today, helping my son with his work meal prep. In the end we got nine portions into tubs for him to put in the freezer. I am very tired – it felt like making Christmas dinner. My feet are buzzing – right ankle so itchy I could scratch through my own skin and indeed in places, I have because my skin is fragile. Papery. A quiet bird time – two Rooks flying over, a small Goldfinch flurry. Eurasian Linnet, European Goldfinch. An ice-cream van’s bells. Now I am picturing knickerbocker glories. Mmmm.

Three Common Wood Pigeons up in the air – so much more graceful than when they are on the ground. A couple of Western House Martins skimming the field. 18.16 p.m. Daddy Long-legs (I wrote this note to remind me that I saw a Daddy Long-legs, otherwise known as a Cellar Spider, late at night hanging from a thread on the wall. Behind it was its perfect shadow. The whole effect was attractive).

Image description: this is my sketch of a Magpie. The bird is standing and facing to the right. The paper I have made the image on is cream with faint yellow stains. I have written the word ‘Magpie’ in pencil bottom right, I have used black pen and homemade blackberry ink (which is dark purple-grey) for this sketch. The bird is mostly dark, over the beak, head wings, tail and behind, with a white patch on the belly.

10^th August, 6.49 a.m. Back. Still, no breeze at all, the light almost impossibly white and bright, all the plants heavy with dew – where the light hits, everything appears frosted. I can scarcely look east. Nothing in the sky but contrails. Two distant aeroplanes fly to the south, so very high, their contrails short so they look exactly like comets with their tails do. I have stepped off the world. Too wakeful due to left arm and shoulder pain. We were invited round to the new neighbours last night, so I have used up all my smiles. The tiny pink bell-shaped Snowberry flowers are scattered all over the bench. They are like miniature crinoline skirts. Wasps buzz around me. Corvids and Goldfinches busy back and forthing. The app failed to decipher which Gull was calling – its voice in the burning east.

Dunnock, Willow Warbler, European Robin, Eurasian Jackdaw, European Greenfinch, European Goldfinch, Eurasian Blue Tit, Great Tit, Bank Swallow, Eurasian Linnet, Eurasian Magpie, Common Chiffchaff, Rook, Common Wood Pigeon, Common Chaffinch, Yellowhammer.

7.03 a.m., sky is becoming less white, more blue. I am completely drained. Many of the thistles are so tall and top heavy with wet seed clumps they begin to sag. Far-off Common Buzzard. So much constant variety from the Violas – every time they remake themselves, their combinations are new. I am persuading myself to go and drink some water. I have a lot of trouble drinking. Jackdaws voiciferous. A cockerel crows. Ring-necked Pheasant. Eurasian Coot. There are sequins on my pyjama top and they spangle these pages with reflected light, like so many fireflies. Eurasian Wren. 7.15 a.m. Carrion Crow. A large Gull with a very distinctive call flew by the river to the south – frustratingly, the app chose to ignore it, as it is currently still diving with the Buzzard, but I recognise them myself. Sedge Warbler. 7.19 a.m.

8.25 a.m., back. Very bight, blue sky, though now many clouds join the contrails. Just a hint of a breeze lifting my just-washed hair. I am glad to say I managed a shower. Been mentally gearing up for two days. The Buzzard proclaims my victory. In-between my earlier session and now, a Pigeon has left a gift on the grass – an almost pure white feather – at first I thought swan! But on closer examination, one side of the feather is slightly grey. I am still grateful for it.

European Greenfinch, Willow Warbler, Common Chaffinch, Eurasian Linnet, Common Wood Pigeon, Eurasian Blue Tit, Bank Swallow, Goldcrest, European Goldfinch, Carrion Crow, Great Tit, Eurasian Wren, Rook, European Robin.

The sun is glisting like a mirage of diamonds from the distant cars parked on the track to Whittledene. Shimmering. A Goldfinch flew past, a few feet from our faces. Common Chiffchaff, Eurasian Blackbird, Eurasian Magpie, Mallard, Yellowhammer, Western Yellow Wagtail. All the way through, the glorious song of the Buzzard. 8.30 a.m.

14.39 p.m. Back, cooler after a boiling morning. Nice breeze. Pair of Black-headed Gulls flying over the field to the west. I have dusted my stand mixer off and am attempting to make bread. Dough currently proving – I have no clue if it will work as I lost my old recipe. I miss kneading but I had to give that up two years ago due to hands. Loads of small fluffy clouds. My perfect temperature – can still wear a light jumper but my feet and ankles are bare. Eurasian Linnet, Barn Swallow, Common Chiffchaff, European Goldfinch. I can see the sharp white bodies of Gulls scything above the cut east far field. Numerous White Butterflies. Very peaceful apart…

Image description: a page from a notebook - the page is cream with faded stains and age marks upon it. The book has some original pre-printed images and words upon it which are done in black in and black and white printing. The images are of both sides of circular planet Earth in the centre, one side view higher than the other. In-between the views of Earth is a rectangle which is drawn to look like a postage stamp. Written around the pre-printed text and images in black ink are my lists of birds and some notes - these birds and notes are listed below.

…from neighbour’s laughter, but I can’t feel grumpy about that. Western House Martin. Larger Gulls (not Black-headed) passing over – one flew low to have a curious assessment of us. European Greenfinch. The Castle’s flagpole is a clear white spire. I have been worrying today about my journalling – I have fast become so dedicated to it but it struck me that it might be the most pointless boring exercise – I wondered a lot why I feel compelled to do it.

15.04 p.m., sudden influx of birds – numerous Gulls – masses of them toward the river, high wheeling speck of the Buzzard, dark clumps of Corvids in the air and on the stubble. Babbles of Goldfinches. Eurasian Jackdaw. It did occur to me that this is a form of prayer to me – the bench holds our small congregation, the field is the church – indeed the cathedral. My lists of birds are psalms, prayers and catechisms. The wildflowers bloom into rosaries. I spend my hours in quiet worship. I attend many times a day, as many as my poor, threadbare soul requires.

After years of wondering about faith, I find my faith here, with nature. I find elusive moments of peace and hope one day to learn how to string them together into meaningful days. I feel I must lose everything I ever was before in order to become who I was meant to be. Willow Warbler. For years, I have asked the same questions – who am I? What am I meant to be? I don’t think the answer exists. Perhaps it is a false question. Perhaps we only learn it at the end. 15.17 p.m.

20.24 p.m. Back. Cool, wonderful soft mauve dusk, small pockets of blue still pinned to the evening. I have been chopping strawberries and my fingers are pinky-red stained. Don’t want them to go to waste. The world is too quickly being wasted. Kindness runs short. Too short. Eurasian Collared Dove, Eurasian Jackdaw, Common Wood Pigeon. Gorgeous small, pale moth fluttering about. Must try to discover what species it is. A dusk moth. The Pale Twilight. There’s nothing to prevent me coming up with names of my own. In your diary, you are your own boss.

Graylag Goose, Eurasian Linnet, one new Poppy. The nettles on the far half of the field seem to have bright yellow centres. I think it’s the concentrated effect of so many of them together. The nettles that are close to me have a few of their lower leaves turning yellow. Do nettles have their own autumn? I don’t think I’ve ever had such a close relationship to nettles before.

Not many birds – neighbours three doors up are having a noisy party and a guest’s dog is running back and forth in the field, so nature has wisely retreated. There is a scoop of cloud which is candyfloss lickable. A tiny red-black beetle has landed upon this page 20.49 p.m. and is wandering along the lines I have written like a lost word. Or an extra word. Nature’s free speech. It’s language is beetle-feet. Perhaps the beetle is reading the lines I have written – reading the microscopic ink lines with its sensitive toes. It will carry my words away to its beetle-home. I can see its little wings protruding from its shell. It is about three millimetres long. 20.53 p.m., it splits completely open turns into silver clear wings. It flies away.

The app now offers me a bird called the Gadwall – a large buff, brown and black tweed-patterned duck. It is known to be in the UK, north and south, though more in the south. 20.56 p.m., and achingly lovely Mistle Thrush just chirruped toward me, landed on the wooden coffee table on which my feet are resting, about twenty inches away, paused, looked at me and flew away again. The floating spectre of a Eurasian Kestrel. All the blue has gone from the sky. 20.59 p.m. The smell of damp soil.

11^th August, 7.45 a.m. Front. Cool for now, whisper of a pleasant breeze. Blue/silver sky. The Seven are still except for a little trembling upon their needle-tops. Once again, I am thwarted by the app – some lovely Gull voices – many of them in a row and the app showed nothing. Many Western House Martins are up in the sky – am I wrong…

Image description: a page from a notebook - the page is cream with faded stains and age marks upon it. The book has some original pre-printed words upon it which are done in black. The pre-printed words are ‘Interesting Stamps in my Collection’ and underneath the book’s previous guardian has listed their interesting stamps, such as ‘34 Cyprus, Queen Victoria, overprinted’ and ‘29 King George V Queen Elizabeth (crossed out) Mary Canada’. Written under the pre-printed text and images in black ink are lists of birds and some notes - these birds and notes are listed below.

…in thinking that their quiet but piercing cries are similar to the Pipistrelles? There is a tinge of decay in the air – somewhere hear, a wild creature’s body is vanishing, layer by layer back into the Earth. As do we all, in the end. Goldcrest and European Robin sing strongly this morning. Eurasian Blackcap, Eurasian Blackbird, Eurasian Blue Tit, Eurasian Jackdaw, Rook, Bank Swallow, Eurasian Magpie, Eurasian Wren, , European Greenfinch, Eurasian Linnet, Coal Tit, Common Chaffinch, Common Wood Pigeon.

Still many Oxeye Daisies flowering - I have not deadheaded them in case their large yellow faces make seeds which the birds can eat. Plus, there is something profound to be told in the beginning, middle and end of life being kept so close together. There is beauty to be found in their slow demise – their drooping, browning petals, their yellow centres rusting like eclipses of the sun.

European Starling, European Goldfinch, Great Tit. If I concentrate, I can hear the layers of voices as they fade towards the river. My bowels have been awful this morning. Sluggish, numb. I often feel dirty and humiliated. I ought not to write of this perhaps – amongst all the natural wonder, , my problematic inner workings…It makes me tearful and sad, which I currently am, so I come to take my Canonical Hour, my Prime. There might not be physical healing here, but the spirit has its own requirements.

House Sparrow, Gray Wagtail, Eurasian Collared Dove, Spotted Flycatcher, Common Chiffchaff, Willow Warbler. A cow’s moo. Ring-necked Pheasant. I admonish myself – go back inside, get clean, discover something useful that you can do with yourself. Wipe the surfaces. You can’t always be with the birds. 8.19 a.m.

8.38 a.m. – 9.02 a.m. Back. Becoming more overcast. I didn’t mean to come out again but I drank a cup of tea on the back bench while enduring terrible arm and shoulder pain. Ever since the physiotherapist manipulated it, it has been so much worse. Eurasian Jay, Eurasian Wren, Barn Swallow…

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