The University of the Self #94

Birdsong, Botany and Betterness Part 23

Birdsong, Botany and Betterness Part 23
This article is a continuation of part 22, which can be found here.
Part 24 can be read here.

Image description: this is my watercolour painting of a European Robin. The painting is done on white textured watercolour paper and there is adark blue-grey wash in the background. The bird is facing to the right and is standing three-quarters on. The birds head and wings are brown and it underbelly os cream and light brown. Its chest and lower neck are orange-red. Its eye and beak are black with a dot pf white light.

Content note - this vintage stamp album I am using as a notebook dates from 1936 - some of the some of the stamp illustrations and countries listed in album evidence histories of colonialism. I hope these evidences do not cause offence - I have left them in the photographs as I did not want to whitewash or deny the histories of empire and colonialsim. I acknowledge the Indigenous Peoples.
Content warning - there is a brief mention of Passive Suicidal Ideation.

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 two vintage postage stamps, one on the left, one on the right. There are four place names: Austria has been crossed out and Australia has been handw-written, Austrian Italy, Austrian Post Offices. Down the right-hand side are some decorative ink stamps I have put on using black ink – they are words and images insured by France. Written around the pre-printed text and images in black ink are lists of birds and some notes - these birds and notes are listed below.

…birds venturing out yet. Lots of Carrion Crows just arrived at the Crow Trees, 15.06 p.m. Swift north easterly wind is briskly blowing the rain clouds south and rich royal blue declares itself above. I am feeling very weak and have quite a headache around the eyes, but I am resisting my body’s request to curl away and sleep with all my might.

Ring-necked Pheasants come calling. European Greenfinch, Eurasian Linnet, Eurasian Jackdaw. Sun is now dappling the page – I ought to leave these pages blank, as now they have been sun-written. Large amount of Jackdaws arrive in sudden orchestra, twanging their tongues. 15.14 a.m.

20^th August, 9.25 a.m. Back. A soupy sky, boiled out of autumn’s new requirements of mauve, ash, grey and faded dishwash blue. Layer of solid cloud. A little breeze. Chilly, but in a slightly fortifying, snappish way. One defiant, hopeful poppy has opened. Many clover heads are now dark brown.. Nettle stems outlined with crepe-black swags of seed. I am late out this morning as I really did manage some sleep.

“Heather in August. Here I sit with the heather all about me, purple, glorious, spread like a cloak over the moor. All around it swirls and tosses in the silky wind, lilac and amethyst and Tyrean crimson, like a coloured, foaming sea, bewildering the senses with the ceaseless whirling movement. The honey-sweet scent of it, wonderful, wine-like, warm in the sun, blown in one’s face by the west wind, is intoxicating, and an elixir to body and spirit alike.” (from ‘Living on Exmoor’ by Hope Bourne)

We went to collect a huge amount of fruit from nearby (with permission of course, we weren’t scrumping) and have many plump, fairy-tale attractive cooking apples. I did gather up all the rhubarb but gave that straight away as I am really not keen on it. Although I love rhubarb and custard boiled sweets, and have craved them all night long. I gave some apples to our neighbour last night, and I know our other neighbour appreciates them, so I’ll save them a batch. I’ll cook and freeze some, and share out the rest. I also gathered a beautiful bunch of Honesty, the seed pods of which had turned into perfect ovals of tissue glass. I put them in my tiny bud vase, which is made from a folded sheet of copper. It looks amazing and much pleasure shall be gained from gazing upon it

A tiny copper bud vase rests on a red-brown wooden shelf next to a grey windowsill and slight view of green leaves, with a red-brown piece of wood to the left. The vase is filled with a large amount of dried Honesty seed pods, which themselves look like gold wire ovals filled with cream tissue paper.

The first bird I heard this morning was a Lesser Black-backed Gull – and what a gentle, contemplative melody it sent. A couple of these birds are floating around above. 9.44 a.m., a Eurasian Kestrel paused to hover low over the field about twenty metres away from us, peering hungrily into the growth. Then, finding nothing, it swooped away. My friends on social media are posting about the vanishing of Swifts and Swallows, who have begun their migrations, and the feelings of deep, contemplative sadness connected with their departure, how it is a herald of season’s change, a shift from one phase of life to another. I look back on my diary, and find the last recording of Barn Swallows on 17^th August. So that might be the time they slipped from the landscape, quietly journeyed on to other places, other suns.

9.57 a.m., the Kestrel retuned to hover again, this time ten metres away. I could see its little feet, dangling down. Then, it flew away northwards. I hope it finds some food. Does the departure of Swifts, Swallows and Martins make me sad? Ought it to make us so blue? If they did not go, we wouldn’t be able to celebrate their return. Each season will bring its own unique layers of nature, and our hearts must layer accordingly – after all, strawberries are not a winter fruit.

Ring-necked Pheasant, Common Chiffchaff, Eurasian Wren, European Greenfinch, Eurasian Linnet, Common Wood Pigeon, Eurasian Jackdaw.

I have the strangest sense that watching the birds fly is the watching of yourself left behind. It’s not a punishment to be the one who remains. For every voyager, there…

Image description: a page from a notebook - the page is cream with faded stains and age marks upon it. At the top in black ink is printed Austria which has been altered by hand to Australia and the word Europe. Down the left had side are seven black ink stamps of assorted leaves. Written around the pre-printed text and images in black ink are lists of birds and some notes - these birds and notes are listed below.

…is someone kept to their own small world, extracting equal joy from their little vista’s most secret, smallest change. Eurasian Blackbird 10.07 a.m.

12.58 p.m., front. Temperature has become much milder, though I am still wearing a jumper. A chilly, more easterly wind, a little rambunctious. It’s making The Seven squirm and dance. The sun is trying its best to shine, as am I. I am convinced I have just seen three Swallow/Swifts/Martins over the cottage three away. It’s the shape of their wings which is a giveaway – the way they curve back like scimitars. I must look this up in more detail. Could be three late stragglers? Three lost youngsters about to suffer for their inexperience?

The feelings I have had of wanting to die have become less sharp and I am able to swallow the thorny clump down and keep it deeper down inside. It is sadly indigestible, like a furball. I am so relieved I have escaped its clutches again – it is a constant cat and mouse. I have had my stand mixer out and bread dough is rising inside – no matter what anyone says about carbohydrates, is there a soul food better than bread? Thus, I fool myself into usefulness.

The Petunia is still amassed with floppy purple hats – the Oxeye Daisies are still sending up fresh bloom. Aubretia coming back into bloom, Jasmine and Achillea holding up. Eurasian Tree Sparrow, Eurasian Blue Tit, Common Wood Pigeon, Eurasian Blackbird, European Robin, European Greenfinch. Yes! Close up sighting and clear sound of Western House Martins – more than three now. They still bear summer’s myth upon their backs. Delichon grief has not come for me quite yet. The Japanese Anenome is thrusting and thriving – yolk-orange centres more golden than gold.

“…in another place, board by board and stone by stone, like a house, a true lilfe built, and all because I was steadfast about one or two things: loving foxes, and poems, the blank piece of paper, and my own energy…” (from ‘Upstream’ by Mary Oliver)

House Sparrow – Passer Domesticus – I think this bird has the perfect name to represent me. Barn Swallow appears in the app – I am still Swallow-rich. Eurasian Magpie, Pica Pica. My old dog sits faithfully by my leg Fourteen and a half years, we have been together – his black speckled with white, his tan completely faded, his eyes still terrier-watchful, his nose wet. 13.17 p.m. Knees and ankles very collapsible today. I am most unsteady in body but steadier in mind.

21^st August, 6.11 a.m. Front. Cool and fresh. Light blue tinge on the horizon, fading into grey above – white and grey clouds almost invisible. A Carrion Crow has been observing me from tis perch in one of The Seven, cocking its head this way and that, but has flown away, satisfied with its mental notes. A very large flock of largeish birds flew over, but they were only silhouettes so I could not translate the sight into a species.

6.19 a.m., the blue is already strengthening, though I must pop back inside for a cardigan. It’s nippy. One of the crochet blankets from the back of the sofa will do. Two Eurasian Magpies fly like arrows past the Norway Spruce. A Common Buzzard calls from overhead, only a few minutes after a Eurasian Kestrel, much closer, sounded as if it was perched in the nearby trees. Dunnocks are very loud this morning – a persistent cheeping. Some beautiful trills from Eurasian Blue Tit. Common Wood Pigeon’s hooting every present. European Goldfinch, Goldcrest, European Robin, Great Tit, Eurasian Jay, Eurasian Collared Dove, Eurasian Wren, Eurasian Linnet, Coal Tit, Common Chiffchaff, Eurasian Tree Sparrow, European Greenfinch, Common Redstart, Eurasian Jackdaw.

I feel as if my body and mind are empty of emotions and this is not a bad thing. It is a particular sort of peaceful state to be in – I am only a confection of flesh, blood, bones, veins, muscles, skin and hair – my sensorium is an empty museum, or church, paused before the staff arrive to open it , before the influx of visitors echo around its space. A nearby cat is yowling and spitting. Or two cats? The fruit trees a few houses up are laden with apples and pears – all of a sudden, a glut of fruit – too much to process, while everyone tries to give away their surpluses. I don’t eat chutneys or jams for health reasons. My back was aching yesterday but seems to have eased today.

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

Willow Warbler, European Starling. Smells of soil and smoke on the air, as well as the scent of Jasmine. House Sparrow, Common Chaffinch, Eurasian Treecreeper, Eurasian Siskin. Ten minutes ago, a lone mad walked past, rock music blasting from his phone – now 6.50 a.m., he has just walked past again, music blaring. What an unusual disruption, not welcome – but I guess each must surround themselves with their own chosen music, though I can’t help believing that the morning should belong to the birds.

Goldcrest and Dunnock sing loudly – Dunnock in the Norway Spruce at the top – it is wagging its tail. The neighbour’s Hollyhocks are leaning over the fence to listen. A Blackbird crosses over, chuck-chuck-chuck-chuck. Western House Martin, 6.57 a.m. What a gentle-seeming day. I am aching to say that a poem that has been rolling around my head for a couple of years began to shape itself into a few thoughts and words while I was cooking apples yesterday – so I opened my other notebook and wrote them down, and last night, began to type. So perhaps that is why I feel so unusually calm and serene. A Robin at the bottom of the Norway Spruce just presented his ruby-red breast to the world. I would very much like to find a red Robin’s feather. 7.05 a.m.

Image description: this is my watercolour painting of a Sow’s Thistle plant. The painting is done on white textured watercolour paper and there is a brown wash in the background. There are three green stems - one has a half-opened bud from which yellow long, thin petals are emerging, one has a mostly closed green bud with a peep pf red/orange petals emerging and one has a fluffly white seed head with a yellow centre on it.

7.34 a.m. Back. Some wonderful bright, gold-tinted light on the north horizon. A very busy Chiffchaff – cha-cha-chiff, cha-cha-chiff, cha-cha-chiff. A wonderful repetitive rhythm. A bank of cloud like a fat, flat mountain has formed over the east – white and blue-tinged, edged with bright light, its shape sharply defined. Lots of blue streaks in the sky and minimal breeze. Heard an unusual bird – a low cha-cha-cha, cha-cha-cha. Almost like a duck’s quack but not. App did not detect.

The female Blackbird has come out for a peekabout in the grass. Hop, hop, hop, wag, wag. She just actually sneezed. A Wren lands above her on the Cherry sapling, then clings to a nettle stem. The wildplants are becoming very brown. A Great Spotted Woodpecker zips over. Bees are still very active. There are so many little bee holes in the ground. Is there an underground lake of honey? The Blackbird has come closer – flickering her wings and chirruping, turning her neck completely around to acratch at her back. A Ring-necked Pheasant clacks like a lock that needs oil. Bees are actually disturbing the back of my hair as they fly, they are so close. I trust you, bees – for to sting is to die and none today want death.

The bright cloud mountain has spread further east. Imagine being able to grow a mountain. I’d plant one slap-bang in the middle of this field and watch it develop, year on year, spire with fir trees, keep its head always hatted with snow.

Eurasian Linnet, Great Tit, Eurasian Blue Tit, Common Buzzard – the cha-cha-brrrr, cha-brrrr of one musical Eurasian Jackdaw heading south west. European Greenfinch, European Robin, Eurasian Magpie, Common Wood Pigeons aplenty. Dunnock – an here’s a new one – Fieldfare – its call described as “dry and powerful ‘chackchack’” and yes, I can certainly hear that. European Goldfinch. Similar to the Blackbird. My eyes feel quite strained this morning – they felt like this yesterday too. 8.08 a.m.

19.51 p.m. Back. Amazing textured sky – beginning with layers of lemon and ice blue streaked with mauve-ash horizontal lengths of cloud on the horizon. Church bells in Ovingham have just rung the next hour in, seven minutes early. What a sweet, antiquated sound, a remnant of another time. The next layer of sky is a slightly bluer silver, with more broken fluffier segments of cloud, half purple-grey at the bottom, half gold-pink at the top. The church bells rang again 19.56 p.m. – individual repeated rings – perhaps calling worshippers to a time and service I am unaware of. Evensong? What a beautiful thought on a mild evening like this. The next layer of sky is a wide, sweet baby blue smothered in large grey to dark grey clouds.

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