The University of the Self #96

Birdsong, Botany and Betterness Part 24

Birdsong, Botany and Betterness Part 24
This article is a continuation of part 23, which can be found here.
Part 25 can be read here.

Image description: A piece of paper is collaged with old faily tale pages from a book. On top, some tissue paper with an assortment of colourful songbirds is collaged top and bottom In the middle is an image of a stylized robin, made from curled up strips of paper., using a method called quilling. The bird has a yellow beak and a black eye with a white dot. The head, back, wings and tail are made from quills and curls of paper in various shades of brown. The breast is made from quills of red and pink colours. The leg and foot is black. Beneath the bird is a brown branch made from a line of quills, with assorted green leaf-shapes and circular red berries. Above is another shorter brown branch with green leaves and red berries upon it. I wanted the Robin to appear to be in a fruited Hawthorn Tree.

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.

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 three place names: Bahamas, Barbados & Bermuda. Down the right-hand side are some decorative ink stamps I have put on using black ink – they are of four kinds of 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.

Above the grey, some small white and pink clouds. Above that, Heaven, drawing up the sound of ringing bells. The far away trees are a dark black-green, the north fields dusty cocoa. The whole day I have remained detached from my emotions – as if I have left them somewhere like a forgotten bag. Curious, but okay. One Eurasian Kestrel quietly flew past on its way north, body sharp and sure as a compass point. A mixture of Gulls and Jackdaws pass over me, flying east. Very definite sight and sound of a Gray Partridge, landing in the far half of the wildfield – the half with the Millet and Quinoa.

“Every peeping clicking, barking thing here
lives twice, one wet, one half dry life -
a fin is a wing is a flipper is a foot.”
(from ‘Stone Dancing on Holy Island’ by Carmen Marcus, featured in ‘Ten Poems from Northumberland’, Candlestick Press)

20.12 p.m., I can hear church bells ringing a tune, but this is barely discernible above someone on the other side of the site using an electric saw and screwdriver. No matter – I don’t have my feelings today, they are abandoned I know not where and I am contentedly numb. Perhaps my body decided on its own accord that I needed a break from them. The sky layer on the horizon has turned a sea-green-blue. I can see a distant speckling of birds. The tools have ceased and I hear the bells ring, for a brief moment. I feel like blank paper – no, I don’t feel like that – I am that.

Common Redstart, Common Chiffchaff, Common Wood Pigeon. The app brings me the Common Eider and the map does show it in the north. So I accept it because I simply want it to be there – if believing can make it so, then I know its black and white plumage is on the river. I can hear ducks quacking. A cow’s desolate moo comes from the Mickley dairy. Bells still ring – I wonder exactly where they are, as these ones are further away. The app detects the Barn Swallow – I have roamed the sky for a sight – all I heard was a brief cheep. The app also persists with the Long-eared Owl but Tawny will suffice. Western House Martins, sight and sound, flicker the dusk with their quick flight. The pink has mostly faded from the sky. A bee still gathers and hums behind me. The piebald horse wanders back and forth on Field House Farm. My son came after work today and I gave him a punnet of strawberries. I am fruit mother. 20.35 p.m.

22^nd August, 5.37 a.m. In my bedroom, which is at the front. I was lying there listening to a single Carrion Crow sweetly crooning, again and again, very close by – possibly in the actual garden. It was a gentle, mothering sound, almost like a comfort and a question. I wondered, in my human vanity if it was the same Crow I often see perched in The Seven. I wondered if it had got used to me, and was wondering where I was, why I had not yet come out to join the chorus. I wanted to get up, but I felt glued to the mattress with deep tiredness. Yes, there is the Crow now as I write, on the first of The Seven on the right, in the middle, its head bending over to one side. My body is a clamour of aches today – awful cramps in my shins, ankles and toe joints. This is growing worse again.

Image description: this is my watercolour painting of two chestnut shells with five long green leaves and some brown twigs under them. The painting is done on white textured watercolour paper and there is a purple wash in the background. The chestnuts are mostly circular, and white, and covered in green spikes.

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 three place names: Batum, Bosnia & Herzegovina. 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.

I suspect the Botox treatment in my jaw and head is beginning to wear off. Neck and left shoulder very stiff and painful. I didn’t want to move but neither do I like sleeplessness, so I did put my long, heavy bed jumper on and at 6.14 a.m., came outside and sat on the front bench, slowly sipping a cup of water (I am a terrible drinker, and really never want to). It is now 6.35 a.m. and my sentinel Crow is still there. A pair of Eurasian Magpie are spectacularly vociferous this morning. In fact, there are four. Two just landed in The Seven, and two have just flown out. Back and forth they go, making short flights. They really are attractive – like escapees from a black and white movie, like they forgot to put their colour on.

Middle finger of right hand in agony, swollen and hurts to bend. The weather chilly, the sky a blank space of white grey. One Graylag Goose calling a few times west – their Latin name, Anser anser seeming so poetically appropriate. Answer, answer, it asked, in its lone voice and received no reply. I imagined it looking up and down the river for kin. Answer, answer.

6.45 a.m., my Crow guard is still there, in the same place. I still feel emotionally detached, but tears are swimming in my eyes in that way my body has, of crying without me knowing that I am – unconscious, subconscious weeping – so I fear my emotions are trying to infiltrate my body again.

6.56 a.m., one toot and the passing of a train. A large number of Common Wood Pigeons, some Gull sound the app did not identify. Also, the pee-orre, pee-orre of a Peacock. The large house in Ovingham keeps them but this one sounded more to the west and further away. When my husband was out on his bike yesterday, he saw a Peahen and a number of white, fluffy chicks crossing the road at Bearle Farm.

Eurasian Tree Sparrow, Eurasian Treecreeper, Long-tailed Tit, European Greenfinch, Hawfinch, House Sparrow, Eurasian Blackbird, Eurasian Linnet, Common Chaffinch, Coal Tit, Eurasian Siskin, Eurasian Collared Dove, European Goldfinch, Gray Wagtail, Willow Warbler, Great Tit, Dunnock, Eurasian Jackdaw, Goldcrest, Eurasian Blue Tit, Common Chiffchaff, European Robin, Eurasian Wren. Two new birds this morning – Horned Lark (I sadly do not think so, as they are from the US), and Baird’s Sandpiper (again, too far away to be this bird). Exquisite burst of song from the Robin in the Norway Spruce; complex, jingling, pure and rich. Common Raven appears, 7.07 a.m. Ring-necked Pheasant. A Woodpecker in The Alders is knocking, tap-tap-tap-tap. Two tiny Wrens flicker in the Norway Spruce. A plump Pigeon weaves around the ridge of the dilapidated roof of the cottage over the road. Eurasian Nuthatch.

A stripe of blue brushes across the north horizon. All these hours spent with the birds are building blocks for my soul. 7.14 a.m. There is a beautifully drooping Larch Tree to the left of me. What beautiful trees they are, artfully, gracefully drooping.

“ancient rights of way / under skies of empty heaven / fall
into the footsteps of your ancestors / you are part of this”
(from ‘Walltown Crags’ by Degna Stone, featured in ‘Ten Poems from Northumberland’, Candlestick Press)

8.34 a.m. Back. Some spots of blue, some flashes of light, heavy acre of dark grey cloud. One very pretty white cloud behind the castle. Hedge full of wings and bees – lots of berries and flowers on the Snowberry. The gorgeous milk globes. Carrion Crows making their sweet noises. Eurasian Kestrel passes thoughtfully…

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 is one place names: Bavaria. Down the right-hand side are some decorative ink stamps I have put on using black ink – they are a leaf, a bunch of flowers and an area of grass and ferns. 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.

…above. Field House Farm is at risk from developers – people with the cottages on the farm have disclosed that a caravan park business is attempting to purchase the site and is already applying to the council for potential planning permission – trying to side-step planning permission in order to remove the pre-established wooden cottages there and replace them with soulless statics. These sites are steeped in history – working class history, which is why so little has been recorded about them – that and the landowners all being notoriously private. Some of these places are almost one hundred years old. I have made studies of the history myself, as much as can be found. What a devastating thing this would be – if these places are lost, they are irreplaceable. The beautiful fields will be sardine-crammed with caravans, just the legally required distance apart – cars, cars, cars will clog the place. These unique places must be saved, must be treasured. I am so pleased I have gathered what historical information I have. A decimation of history is what the ruling powers want.

Common Buzzard causes a fluster in the Crow Trees – suddenly, its sheer call, and the Crows scattered. I can hear the distant clanking of a combine harvester (or a tractor) working the fields away over north. House Sparrow, European Goldfinch, Eurasian Magpie, Long-tailed Tit, Eurasian Wren, Eurasian Tree Sparrow, Eurasian Linnet, Eurasian Jackdaw, European Robin, Great Tit, Eurasian Blue Tit, Eurasian Blackbird. 9.06 a.m. European Herring Gulls, 9.44 a.m.

8.14 p.m., saw the most absolutely splendid spider – in the top angle where the wood of the decorative triangle above the gate meets, a web, and in the web, a huge spider – a massive abdomen, almost the size of half my thumb – it was a Garden Spider (Araneus diademaius) – diadem – I love that, for this one was certainly bejewelled, with pearls along its back and striped stockings. Also known as the Cross-orb Weaver – definitely a female, due to her size. Apparently they rebuild their webs every day. She definitely knew that I was looking at her – perhaps she could see me, smell me, sense my breath, hear me – but she stayed still for a moment, then slowly, with the impression of false nonchalance, crawled backwards from the centre of the web where she had been luminously, plumply spreadeagled, and reversed into the wood, and vanished. I took a photograph and I will definitely paint this embellished marvel. The size online is given up to 18mm, but she was way bigger than that. I do not exaggerate. I feel exhilarated and a little nervous.

23^rd August, 7.10 a.m. Back. A lovely morning. Streaks of bright golden peach light all the way across north east, east, southeast. Rays of sun beam down on the riverside trees. I don’t know why, but I feel I can see the curve of the Earth – I feel as if the sky and land have a curve to them. Golden blue ice mixed into the sun rays. Above that, purple-blue ash. Above that, strong purple blue and white. Perfect ice-baby-blue to the far north. Lovely and mild, fresh. No breeze.

Image description: this is my watercolour painting of half of an opened conker shell with two bright and shiny brown oval conkers inside. The painting is done on white textured watercolour paper and there is a grey wash in the background. The shell is mostly circular, and its insides are white, and the outer shell is lime green and some spines can be seen around the edge.

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