You write beautifully Jeff and in such a way that I am transported to the contexts you describe. I join you in not being able to resist reading into the presence of particular birds. For me, in Cumbria it is the robin.
Really interesting Jeffrey. I always enjoy your writing. I live in the English Midlands, where the numerous reservoirs are a magnet for birds (Bill Oddie began birdwatching as a child here). Hearing the gulls call as they fly overhead in the mornings and evenings, reminds me of living by the sea when I was younger.
Thank you Maureen! Bill Oddie, that name takes me back. As you'll know, seagulls aren't greatly loved in seaside towns, but I also find their cries evocative.
Thank you for such a thought-provoking comment, Susanna! I'm not sure I can help you much with your question, though. I've spent many years in places like Egypt, Ecuador, and Japan, where so many different ways of thinking about the world exist. Perhaps some of it has rubbed off on me. Or maybe these thing crop up in my writing because I keep bumping into pre-modern writing (such as Roman poetry, 16th-century drama), where things are also very different from modern rationalist, "western" thought. Or maybe the "west" is really also about these things, along with commerce, intellect, and empire? I don't know. What do you think might be going on?
I loved this. I am surrounded by all kinds of birds where I live (including once, a large vulture) and I always believe they are trying to tell me something.
They tell us about the beauty and fragility of our world. During the pandemic they appeared in our silent cities giving us hope with songs and colours. Nowadays it's estimated that several dozen species go extinct each year due to habitat loss, climate change, and 'human activities' as "pro-life" as wars.
Some bird songs will be just a record of the past for rarity cabinets. Aswell, a language disappears roughly every two weeks. Their songs will follow the same fate. If anyone wants to predict the future take a glace to the really birds of ill omen. There's a Spanish proverb that sumarizes what is going on: "raise crows and they'll pluck out your eyes." That crowes are the killers of diversity.
I love to hear the sound of migrating geese, letting me know that a change of season is coming. And talking of the rich life in hedgerows, do you remember the countless caterpillars we used to see, from colourful furry ones to smooth bright green ones? Unfortunately, children today grow up thinking today's hedges look normal but the absence of caterpillars suggests otherwise.
Thanks for the memories. Rosemary Sutcliff has been cast aside from the publishing world like a disposable vape. Her books were wonderful and were popular in the 1970s and early 1980s. I missed out on the radio show, that sounds good. (the movie of the Eagle of the Ninth, with Channing Tatum, was poor).
There's a stone plaque outside Exeter Cathedral marking General Vespasian's westernmost settlement.
I've just finished the fifth draft of a YA historical fantasy novel set in Devon and Cornwall describing the tribes resistance against the invaders.
I was fortunate to behold some ravens and a magpie(!) when I was recently in Alaska. The ravens were huge and could give my local crows a run for their money!
Speaking of the local crows, I have learned that they fly to their night roost about a hour before sunset. I know Spring is around the corner because I can hear the song of the hummingbird.
There is also a flock of feral parrots that have chosen my townhome complex as the place to bed down for the night. One of them regularly imitates the sound of laughter, which can sound downright creepy!
Thank you for being here and sharing your own experiences, Victoria! Ravens, hummingbirds, and parrots—quite a mix! Here there are parakeets (descendants of escapees from zoos or private collections). They keep a lower profile than the ones in London, but they are fun to watch. I was lucky enough to see them in their natural habitat along the banks of the Nile, and they seemed to chatter endlessly!
Are the photos yours? They’re lovely. These days I am enjoying the company of the black-capped chickadee, the tufted titmouse, and the occasional blue jay or cardinal. The bird feeder was a great gift. 😁
Thank you for your surprise arrival, Jeffrey—you liked a comment of mine in the midst of a very different topic and here I am! I’m just continuously tickled by the adventurous turns within this community.
While your experiences as written are fairly foreign to me, your curiosity and dedication to exploring the deeper meanings are not. Very much looking forward to traveling in your orbit.
Eagle of the 9th. Now there's a memory you've brought back. I was so upset about the ending.
That reminds me of a film around that time too...I was deeply disappointed by the ending and I absolutely can't reveal in public what it was, lest I be accused of all sorts of things (even if it was 1970 and I wasn't yet into double figures.
You write beautifully Jeff and in such a way that I am transported to the contexts you describe. I join you in not being able to resist reading into the presence of particular birds. For me, in Cumbria it is the robin.
Thank you, Helen! Robins are wonderful, aren't they!
They are indeed and I am lucky where I live. I see plenty of them!
Really interesting Jeffrey. I always enjoy your writing. I live in the English Midlands, where the numerous reservoirs are a magnet for birds (Bill Oddie began birdwatching as a child here). Hearing the gulls call as they fly overhead in the mornings and evenings, reminds me of living by the sea when I was younger.
Thank you Maureen! Bill Oddie, that name takes me back. As you'll know, seagulls aren't greatly loved in seaside towns, but I also find their cries evocative.
It's fascinating that you write about birding and choose to set some of the context within divinity and divination.
I'm always intrigued when I read stuff like this on substack.
Spirituality is commonplace where I live. But I think of 'the west' as form and matter; buildings, commerce, politics and intellect.
This morning I read a note by Natalie McGill an author on substack where she was responding to something written by Stewart K Lundy.
They are talking about seeds, nature and her cycles, and reincarnation.
You write about birds and their connection, in long gone societies, to divinity and divination.
Someone else that I encountered on Substack this morning publishes weekly ‘nature-based spiritual writings’.
I wonder; is it a thing currently? Is 'the west' curious about spirituality?
*Sorry to use ‘the west’. I simply can’t think how else to describe the places I’m referring to.
Thank you for such a thought-provoking comment, Susanna! I'm not sure I can help you much with your question, though. I've spent many years in places like Egypt, Ecuador, and Japan, where so many different ways of thinking about the world exist. Perhaps some of it has rubbed off on me. Or maybe these thing crop up in my writing because I keep bumping into pre-modern writing (such as Roman poetry, 16th-century drama), where things are also very different from modern rationalist, "western" thought. Or maybe the "west" is really also about these things, along with commerce, intellect, and empire? I don't know. What do you think might be going on?
This was so enjoyable. And the Eagle of the Ninth is wonderful?
Thank you. At that age, it seemed like the most dramatic, romantic story in the world.
Should have been exclamation mark, not question mark after wonderful...!
I loved this. I am surrounded by all kinds of birds where I live (including once, a large vulture) and I always believe they are trying to tell me something.
Thank you, Deirdre. The vultures I remember from South America were a pretty taciturn lot. But who knows what they were thinking?
Love this visceral reflection, Jeffrey.
You had me at “augury.” Love those lines from Hamlet, V, ii.
Thank you, Kate. 😊
They tell us about the beauty and fragility of our world. During the pandemic they appeared in our silent cities giving us hope with songs and colours. Nowadays it's estimated that several dozen species go extinct each year due to habitat loss, climate change, and 'human activities' as "pro-life" as wars.
Some bird songs will be just a record of the past for rarity cabinets. Aswell, a language disappears roughly every two weeks. Their songs will follow the same fate. If anyone wants to predict the future take a glace to the really birds of ill omen. There's a Spanish proverb that sumarizes what is going on: "raise crows and they'll pluck out your eyes." That crowes are the killers of diversity.
Thank you, Rafa. So many bird species are under pressure, as you say. That includes the magnificent gannet, which has suffered hugely from bird flu.
I love to hear the sound of migrating geese, letting me know that a change of season is coming. And talking of the rich life in hedgerows, do you remember the countless caterpillars we used to see, from colourful furry ones to smooth bright green ones? Unfortunately, children today grow up thinking today's hedges look normal but the absence of caterpillars suggests otherwise.
Thanks Nicola. Yes, we used to delight in the caterpillars as kids! I suspect a lot of kids from cities rarely see a hedge at all.
Thanks for the memories. Rosemary Sutcliff has been cast aside from the publishing world like a disposable vape. Her books were wonderful and were popular in the 1970s and early 1980s. I missed out on the radio show, that sounds good. (the movie of the Eagle of the Ninth, with Channing Tatum, was poor).
There's a stone plaque outside Exeter Cathedral marking General Vespasian's westernmost settlement.
I've just finished the fifth draft of a YA historical fantasy novel set in Devon and Cornwall describing the tribes resistance against the invaders.
Thank you, James! You've chosen a wonderful era and setting for your novel.
Beautiful, Jeffrey. I love the final line.
Thank you, Holly!
I was fortunate to behold some ravens and a magpie(!) when I was recently in Alaska. The ravens were huge and could give my local crows a run for their money!
Speaking of the local crows, I have learned that they fly to their night roost about a hour before sunset. I know Spring is around the corner because I can hear the song of the hummingbird.
There is also a flock of feral parrots that have chosen my townhome complex as the place to bed down for the night. One of them regularly imitates the sound of laughter, which can sound downright creepy!
Thank you for being here and sharing your own experiences, Victoria! Ravens, hummingbirds, and parrots—quite a mix! Here there are parakeets (descendants of escapees from zoos or private collections). They keep a lower profile than the ones in London, but they are fun to watch. I was lucky enough to see them in their natural habitat along the banks of the Nile, and they seemed to chatter endlessly!
Are the photos yours? They’re lovely. These days I am enjoying the company of the black-capped chickadee, the tufted titmouse, and the occasional blue jay or cardinal. The bird feeder was a great gift. 😁
Thank you for your surprise arrival, Jeffrey—you liked a comment of mine in the midst of a very different topic and here I am! I’m just continuously tickled by the adventurous turns within this community.
While your experiences as written are fairly foreign to me, your curiosity and dedication to exploring the deeper meanings are not. Very much looking forward to traveling in your orbit.
Thank you for being here, Bree! I hope the gravitational pulls work in all directions.
I'm really enjoying this journeys around the world with you Jeff!
Thank you, Delia. It's great to have you here!
Eagle of the 9th. Now there's a memory you've brought back. I was so upset about the ending.
That reminds me of a film around that time too...I was deeply disappointed by the ending and I absolutely can't reveal in public what it was, lest I be accused of all sorts of things (even if it was 1970 and I wasn't yet into double figures.
Thanks, Andrew. Sounds like a whole bundle of memories there... And please drop me a line privately about that film 😊🤫
This was fascinating, Jeffrey. Once again, you taught me something I didn’t know. And once again you did it with such beautiful writing. :)
Thank you, Michael. You're a very generous reader and I'm grateful to you for reading and commenting.