Chapter 7

I love words, and the way they reflect us. Humans evolve, or disintegrate in some cases [giggle] and how we speak changes along with us -- mirror mirror on the wall, let me count the ways, how do I love you. I love the word "coot", always have. In my opinion, referring to an older person as an "old coot" is a bit of a compliment. An old coot is a person with an ATTITUDE, won't take any grief from anyone -- chip on the shoulder, knock it off I double dare you, chin up in the air. I like coots, a lot. When I climb the ladder, scale the mountain and reach that age, I want to be a coot; a strong, eccentric [normal is boring!] old woman. Therefore, when I met my first Coot, as in BIRD, I was astounded, amazed. I never realized that there was a BIRD called a Coot. This was in England, at Kensington Gardens. As I witnessed the bird, the Coot, I was further delighted, because my interpretation of what a Coot as in human, is, or should be, well, THAT'S EXACTLY what the bird, Coot is - aggressive, loud and almost god-like. What did you say, you upstart did you actually call a bird, a God? Well, think of the Egyptians with their God Horus (A man with a Hawk Head), before you dish me, but hear me out, I mean it the Coot is god-like. Why? He can walk on water! Blew me way, my jaw hit the ground, metaphorically, of course of course, it's because of the Coot, the bird's feet - long claws which are like rubber rafts. Not kidding! One of the Coots at Kensington Gardens actually hopped out of the water, and walked towards me to get some breadcrumbs. His legs are long, and those feet are HUGE rafts. Fearless bird, and to watch him chase another bird across the water, not kidding, he WALKED halfway across the length of width of the stream before he decided to become "normal" and swim!

I love the COOT, for his aggression and his crazy feet.

(I discovered, the next time I saw these birds, another bird that more audacious then the Coot - the Seagull. Made the bossy Coot look like a dove, poor blighter!)

Chapter 6

Now here's some symbolizing. Wonder if anyone will believe me. Doesn't matter, I know it happened -- red-winged blackbird, creative, female energy, pouring cream into a pitcher. It is the red-wing blackbird, opera singer of the bird world. This bird is a strange creature with two different types of calls, the chirp chirp call, which has a harsh edge. If you respond (I think that's the instigator) the song changes to this SOARING ACHING cry, the opera singer on her DEATHBED. That's the cry, splits my heart into took an axe to me that bird, I've run into this bird twice, I read once, advice from an intuitive bird person, i.e., birds respond to people's emotions. That makes sense to me... they have a small brain, but they have a loud voice, when they sing the sound consumes their whole being... if you watch a bird, you KNOW that's true, their bodies literally vibrate, shake, while they sing... and singing is emotional, not much thought there, but all feeling, so why not... I can dig that a bird could sense me, so I've tried it, when I see a bird, I beam at them, I create a haven of safe feelings, a warm gush, pouring cream into the pitcher love, I'm a sun, I radiate, a rainbow hangs over me... well... I TRY. Sometimes I can't shake the day to day mundane worries, and if my nerves are on edge, well trust me, the birds will RUN AWAY... so I try to stay grounded, sometimes it works, sometimes not...

With the red-wing blackbird it has REALLY worked - I’ve had red-winged blackbirds flying over my head, in a circle. Not kidding, it's happened. Once, with this one bird who would come out of his bushes, and fly around me, land on a sign and talk to me, as I beam at him... I realized, now, that he was looking for a mate, because the last time it happened, another red-winged blackbird followed after him... ah, da little woman, jealous. I never saw him after that. Made me sad. However, I had realized that connecting with a bird like that, was wonderful, but... now what? I have to leave. What does that do to the bird? That troubled me. Therefore, I'm glad he found his "woman"!

Red-Winged blackbird, opera buff, heart on the sleeve, looking to write a symphony with his ... partner.

Chapter 5

The Magpie is a dark bird with a white belly. He's a beautiful fellow, and cousin to the crow. I don't know about the rest of the USA, but I've never seen a Magpie where I live, on the East Coast. Maggie, Mag, love a pie bird, I've seen him in England, and compared to the Crow, Maggie is a shy bird. The crows in England, that I saw, strut about. The Magpie hides. This is my experience. Perhaps if I got to know this bird up close there might be another story for me to tell.

The Magpie is known for stealing bright and shiny things. He/she loves to decorate the nest. This I would like to see. Maggie Pie what do you steal? Would you take a coin without swallowing it? Jewelry, yeah, I can see it, tinfoil, wire, why not... but could you steal a coin? That image stuck in my brain. I wonder. Could the bright shiny object, by accident, slide down his/her beak and be ... swallowed! Do Magpies ever fight over shiny things? Birds will try to steal each other's food, I know that, I've seen that, swallows, crows, blue jays, seagulls, if another bird has some food every other bird in the universe will want that food. Is it the same with bright shiny things? I would like to see that ... pirates at dawn dueling with beaks instead of swords for the buried treasure.

The Magpie has been in stories. I know of one an adult fairy tale (no, not "x-rated"!) called "Once..." very very good story, where the Magpie is a sinister presence! I think I remember, someone in the dusty halls of my memory where the old archives are kept in drawers that creak when you open them, watch it with that paper, it is so old it will crumble at the touch - I remember reading about Magpies as "villains" in other stories. However, I think they have been, and can be, comical friends (same goes for crows...)...

There's a commercial out, regarding doors made of glass, and a glass cleaner that is so good that you can't tell the glass is there - and how two magpies, out in the yard, coaxed the human inside to come out - and he runs smack dab into the window/door [get it? So clear, he can't tell it's there.]. The magpies laugh their heads off at their little joke.

The people in the commercial (the narrator) refer to the magpies as crows!!!
HAH! Magpies, my good friend, MAGPIES!!!! They're the crows with the white bellies.... etc.

I wonder if Crows and Blue Jays like shiny things as well. Would be interesting to compare... like to see all their nests!

Chapter 4

A blue jay has a harsh voice, music which demands, pay attention, pay attention, the baby jay in the bush outside my window calling to his mother, who ignored him, hop hop a little closer, mother love, ain't it a brute... the blue jay is incredible, and I can't describe him, no words come close to this bright fellow, as cocky as a jay, strong as a peacock, it is his cry that demands, he is supposed to be the guardian the reminder to defend the castle, storm the gates, break open the case where the swords are kept the war is here, fight, the blue jay is a gorgeous bird, a cousin to the crow, and say that, I realize that his cry makes more sense, CAW CAW the crow demands and he is makes no amends for wanting you and you and me and thee to pay attention, the blue jay cuts through the air with his cry, I've had the blue jay approach me, sitting in front of my computer, and hearing his cry outside my window, and looking staring, where is he, don't move human, don't want to scare him off, the blue jay pokes his head at the edge of the window, looking in at me, I want to have a family, a herd, jay jay jay jay oh so brilliant blue, SCREECH, and the baby opens his mouth, the beaks strong, and the voice, ... demanding, that's the thing, how can anyone ignore such a cry... what's the language, what's the words, the vocabulary what does he mean, blue jay, when he talks to me, maybe I should ruminate on that, and sit in a park one day, keep an eye out for jays, want them to be more than flit flit flash and that agonizing sweet cry, if the language is limited, the emotions are not... that's a bird's language, his EMOTIONS, see if you can hear how he feels in what he says... it isn't hard, if you choice to accept your assignment, Mr. Phelps, this tape will self-destruct in ten seconds, the Jay and his remarkable beauty is a gift... enjoy...

Chapter 3

now you see me now you don't peek-a-boo, walking between our feet, Stephen King had it right, the hounds of hell, the messengers of our fate aren't the dogs but the sparrows, why, dig it, when you walk down a street, at least in the town near where I live, so many people, traffic jam, elbow to elbow, eyes straight ahead, talk talk talk, the sound can be deafening, do any of them... hear? There is a background of sound, a stratosphere, inner sphere, starts at our feet, in-between the toes, in the dust mostly the dust, dig it? there are birds there, sparrows, wrens sometimes, but mostly those enduring birds, so small, and the females so... brown, that they disappear against a tan sidewalk, or in the side of a building, at the local post office, the words POST OFFICE, talk is cheap show your money where your mouth is, backup, which is mullah, eggs, nests, a veritable city of sparrows behind those words, and you can see the staggering grass, sticks, mud protruding, wonder if the postal folks just ... gave ... up... sparrows endure, and the sound of their song is ... comforting, walking down that street again though, businesses, people so involved in what they think, a house inside the mind, the door lock the shutters closed, and the ears bolted, blind and deaf, don't see the sparrows walking, and don't hear them, I look for birds, and I listen for the sounds, startled stimuli, shock to the senses, to realize the wall is SINGING, and that there are birds IN THE CRACKS, or up in the drainage pipes, I've even seen them nesting in the rubber encasement of a bundle of telephone wires, look up, at a telephone pole, at the black rubber wrapped around the wires, sometimes there will be dried grass sticking out and a bird flying in, flying out, and the chorus begins... where there is ugliness, beauty, household at one corner, has a feeder, right size for wrens and sparrows they know it, magnet, that house, sometimes when I walk by there are HUNDREDS of birds in that bush, they are THAT SMALL, it is almost like the bush vibrates....

Symbolism of the small brown birds, sparrows, wrens - the feudal class, the peasants, the workers.... the framework of society, the structure... the sparrows often live inside our walls... if they leave will the walls fall down, a society doesn't survive without ... work.

Alternatively, is it what Stephen King says - they are the guardians at the gate of death? Respect them little fellows... there are ... more of them there are of us, sometimes it seems like that...

Their voices are ... everywhere...

chapter 2

Mockingbirds, song-baby, piano man, dressed white gloves grey suit jacket, mock me, mock me… imitate, harass, aggravate, strike a pose, rude boy, music vocab-ulary surpasses… they will try to imitate anything… I’ve seen a lyrebird on film, an Aussie bird, who sounds like a car. Would I kid you, not me...? The mocker is our clown, patriotic wiseguy, shrugs his shoulders and raises his tail feathers to show you his bottom. Not afraid of anything, this bird... He's a little balmy sometimes. Saw one once I'd swear got too close to a telephone wire, jazzed up…

Walked walkabout a park, long lines, distant trees, waiting for the right … colour… red, yellow, green, brown, what a show…

The bird songs intoxicated, mesmerized, frustrated ME… WHAT were those birds SAYING... humans think they can dismiss the birds, the animals, "oh they are only doing, saying..." well, think of it as a foreign language, a different culture, why don't you, you CAN'T know, I’ve watched birds interact, I listen to their sounds, anxiety, love, distress, anger, anger, mock me will you…

I saw a group of black birds, small black birds hovering over a growth of long tall brown reed grass, a pond. They hovered like smoke, and then, descended all at once -- disappeared in the long halls, target practice. Who can spook the human the most? I can mama, CAW CAW… Funny, I heard so many birds today, at the park, but saw only one crow, a large bloke way up in a tree… I got a sense that he was an old 'um, that one. Birds talk as much as humans I reckon. When I KNOW the sound, the bird, [a familiar street, lullaby, bird in the bush, up the water spout, or tree, hiding, calling, moving, and I can’t SEE HIM AT ALL] it is a sweet craziness…

I want to know what they are saying… oftentimes I will click my tongue to a bird, and get a reaction, oh well done, feathered friend.

Mock me not, mockingbird.

chapter 1

I saw crows rising from a field of fallen soldiers, dead corn, stalks cut, withering, brown, becoming transparent... Something riled those crows. They rose like a bad temper fog, up towards the trees. I watched them while I walked, wondering if they would dissolve into the trees. Settle down boys! Branches bend no such serenity for these mad fellows. Some went into the branches, and then kept on moving until they rose to the top branches, king of the mountain, no queen... Then they settled down like children on a parent's stairs. The other crows went farther into the forest, jumping up into the blue sky, moving over to other trees...

Then I saw geese rising, a few minutes later, from the same field. I then wondered if it was the geese that bothered those crows. Canada geese are the only birds, except for the mockingbird, who would not be ruffled by crows...

A Blue Jay zing my path, flew across, a flash of bright blue, and disappeared into the bush. Was it a Blue Jay? I heard the sound and believed it was. Some pagans believe that this beauty, this symbol symbolizes defend thy magic. That day I acknowledged the reminder...

The day before, I walked by a gathering, crowd of Canada geese. They stood statue still, watching, watching, me. The dried grass they had been nibbling was clenched between their beaks. Is it beak, or beaks, like humans have two lips, lip, lip, beak beak...

Saw a Mockingbird, a baby ... I clicked, clicked. He turned around and looked at me, then turned around to go into the bush. Then he, shrugged his shoulders, raised his wings. I read somewhere, once, that the shrug, the mocker's shrug was ... what... be it sexual, marking the territory, or just plain uppity. I’m tough, don't mess with me...

Come on, I know the answer to that, and I haven't written a bird book! I just watch them... All of it, all all all that mockers do they do when they feel challenged, or threatened, lovely unique birds...