Dear Davey… as always, days ago, I listened to your voice telling a tale I would not have believed were it not to have fallen so eloquently from any other but your own fine tongue, a tale I failed to find a moment to reply to.
Then, this morning while I walked my little dog in the half lit gloom of a dreary beginning, the strangest, equally remarkable, unforgettable coincidence occurred, one which has me typing now during a ten minute break this return recounting my own grand tale;
As I was stood quietly waiting for the little fella to finish his morning necessities at the head of the lane that looks down through a few young beech, seemingly yet to decide on the season (though I had no doubts as my skinny body and trembling bones shivered in woollen socks and a winter coat) I spied a pheasant prancing, as proud as punch, like they do, peckering around the edges at something, entirely invisible to me of course. Out of nowhere at all, the sky perhaps, the young beeches more likely, a sparrow hawk swooped, arrow like and as fast to land smack on the back of that poor old unsuspecting pheasant, sunk its sharp talons right in, managed to fly with that glorious creature clutched in claws then dropped it out of the sky about 50 yards into a field… all this amidst much screeching and squawking and flapping of two pairs of wings and loss of feathers from the stately bird so rudely disturbed at his chosen breakfast. I truly thought he was breakfast himself but no, evidently the sparrow hawk made a few necessary calculations, swooped in once more just, I suppose, to say, 'you my have gotten away this time but I'll be back' and returned to from whence he came. Mr Pheasant, visibly ruffled and indignant gave a final screech back and heaved his body into flight and the, at least, temporary safety of some scrubby blackthorn as I too stood in wonder and disbelief.
I am not sure which astonished me most, pheasant or sparrow hawk!
When I lived in West Sussex Linda, pheasants were a common sight, if they weren’t quite so beautiful I would have considered them a pest (I know my father did - they caused much foul language to emanate from his beloved vegetable garden) but here they are a rare sight. A few (3 pairs) are placed for breeding each year by the game preservation institute but few survive the foxes and buzzards. To realize they must now be wary of the sparrow hawks also is a thought too depressing to contemplate. They really don’t stand a chance. Although this lucky fella did escape, the two nests I found earlier in the year, both with five beautiful pale brown eggs were raided by a fox, both females and all eggs were taken. I pray only the one remaining female is somewhere well hidden to begin again next year that she and the cock survive the winter—surely the hardest of moths for all wild creatures.
As I said to David earlier survival is often not a beautiful thing.
That is so sad. We were upset this year as Peters lady friend had 9 chicks. One by one they were taken until all were gone. Sparrow-hawk and buzzard. The sparrow-hawk took all our baby robins too and recently a young pigeon. We have trail cameras to watch our hedgehogs. They sometimes record things we prefer not to see.
Carol that is so terribly sad, I am constantly in tears over empty nests and stolen eggs… each one like a poem never to be read.
On a slightly brighter note, this evening I almost stepped on a young female pheasant… one survivor of the rampaging raptors! I just hope cock pheasant finds her.
I was so shocked about your pheasant! We have Peter, also very self-important, but we are very fond of him. The thought of a sparrow hawk lifting him!! No wonder you were astonished!
Imagine it, the absolute gift we are offered, that we continue to offer ourselves, a small, warming fire which we may both feed from halfway around the world, adding sticks and twigs, sentences and tales, kind words, 'I see yous,' and encouragements. The warmth it offers is as real as any stove's and the banking of coals till dawn, till one of the embers' tenders offers some new thought or appreciation...coaxing out a new flame, warming another cup of tea, well that seems for all the world like alchemy, doesn’t it?
I can picture your Sparrow Hawk, thanks to your description, latching onto the back of a prancing, self-important pheasant in faint light, but my seeing requires your testimony to complete the scene. How possibly did he lift all that ego and featheredness, carrying it high into the air before dropping it back to Earth? It is a wonder I think my imagination would fail at, as well, absent your telling.
I am ever so grateful for your reports from the hillside, tales of other beings living fascinating lives, escaping their impending fates, finding a way to live for another day.
How absolutely wonderful to find such a treat awaiting me as the coffee brewed and steeped while the skies had yet to even begin to lighten. This, my friend is what real wealth looks and feels like. I am so grateful.
(BTW, I have a portrait of a young pheasant rooster, captured just a week ago on a deliciously quiet morning in a very birdy place hundreds of miles away. It seems as if it would make the perfect accompaniment to my side of this correspondence, but I cannot sort out how to add photos to comments any better than anyone else. Still, I want to try, so I'm going to also share this to "Notes" and attempt to add the image, an almost regal, slightly twerpy looking pheasant who hasn't quite grown into his adult plumage, yet. This is the fella I pictured as I read your tasty adventure...)
If adding the pic doesn't work, I guess we'll all know soon enough.
Fantastic. I recently witnessed the aftermath of what I believe was an eagle leaving one less goose than I’d previously been watching. Only I only heard the cry while sleeping in the van and reports of the commotion seconds later from friends camping mg a bit closer to the water.
Dear Bryan, news of your transported state, given the high pedestal you occupy in my imagination feels something like being handed a warm cup of cocoa with a bright cymbal clash as punctuation. What I would have given for your wise company and ease with magic that morning, while things that just couldn't quite make sense began falling from the sky. I'd have loved to compare notes, tapping into both our computers to try to arrange the pieces into some sort of reasonable pattern. Thought of you often this trip (there were many dragonflies), including one who flew into my little A-liner trailer, let me hold it and then perched on my finger for two or three minutes before zipping straight out the open door.
Ok, well, now I’m smiling. So glad you could get a little caught up in this one. It was pretty special to start the day that way. More stories from this latest adventure trip to come. And thank you. Makes my day…
This was a great description of nature in the raw. I listened to the audio this time and loved all the inflections you made in describing it all as it was happening.I believe that there should have been some sign of the birds if they had truly been meals for the peregrine. I watch in our area when the blue jays go after the crows. It is interesting as there are almost 2 blue jays on one crow every time. Keep up with this great writing.
Bird theater at its finest. I do feel sad though for the two weary geese and their fate. I've noticed that birds have been extremely active. I wonder what they're trying to convey to us humans.
Since birds find a way to get away quite often, I'm not willing to say that the two missing parties to that flock were in fact killed. They might have gotten away by flying low over the water, continuing downstream. Or... well, we just don't know for certain. I certainly looked and looked, and found no stray feathers or signs of goose demise.
LIke you, I too am trying to listen with my 'between the lines' ears... just in case these messengers are trying to clue us in to something important, or help us find our way.
I wonder if one of the bird messages is to clean up the air since they spend so much time flying through it. I felt sorry for the birds in places like Pittsburgh or other smoggy cities. The other message could be to spread our wings. Who really knows?
Last week, I was sitting at my desk at home talking (online) with a group of librarians. Suddenly, a rush of wings and floating feathers appeared outside my window. The local Cooper's hawk flew in, nabbed a song sparrow eating from my finch feeder, and flew back to the trees with its prey in its talons. It was breathtaking and horrifying in equal measure. I explained what I had just seen, and one of the people said, "so it's a bird feeder in more than one way." Funny :) I left the meeting humming, Feed the Birds, from Mary Poppins. Life can be so unexpected.
I love your effortless-seeming (but actually very athletic) writing, a blend of sensory details - sounds, tastes, shifts of the light, and knowledgeable interpretation. To see or hear something and know that it was remarkable far beyond what was observed ( the ploy of the peregrines and what that meant for their continued existence and that of their progeny)…well, by god, that’s a gift to any reader. I thank you. Almost as good as being there at your elbow, smelling the hot coffee, listening to the plashy landings of tired geese, and that skin-tingling hiss and rush of sudden death. These are the moments that fuse forever with our synapses, burning right into the electrochemical mystery of brain, heart and spirit. Yep. These are the truly “major events” we will recall as we lie in our dying husks, the experiences that were ours and ours alone, flashes of beauty, terror and insight.
Just one niggling editorial aside. “Arced” has no “k”.
What a generous and thoughtful note. I am smiling and ever so grateful for your careful, soulful read.
"These are the moments that fuse forever with our synapses, burning right into the electrochemical mystery of brain, heart and spirit. Yep. These are the truly “major events” we will recall as we lie in our dying husks, the experiences that were ours and ours alone, flashes of beauty, terror and insight." Mercy sakes that is a beautiful set of sentences and so very affirming.
Your last two sentences found a responsive chord in my writer's/storyteller's/speller's sense even before you wrote it. I had it written, originally as 'arced.' But I too had some little niggling sense and so I went and looked it up in a few places, and found multiple sources that pointed me toward adding a 'k,' both for past tense uses and for variations of the word, like 'arcking.'
To my mind neither version 'looks' quite right, which is why I went and checked myself. Best I can tell, either way is acceptable. I'm grateful for your gentle nudge.
Ok, Jeeze! I surrender. I am sparked out, arced out, laughing quite hard and hanging up my editor’s monocle and little blue pencil. Good night from Portugal and an exhausted old fart.
Big, grateful hug, dear Jude. I am always, always ready to accept nudges and corrections. Just had another dear editor's eyes alert me to having wrongly used 'it's' in a sentence implying possession, last week. Doh!!! Soon as I could, I fixed it and sent her a little note of thanks, backchannel. It really is a kindness, since we both just want a story to put its best foot forward. I appreciate you helping to keep me honest...
If only I were perfect. But I must totter along as well as I can on my little feet of clay. Honesty resonates through and through your offerings, vivid as blood, strong as a booming bell. In past decades, I recall a little note at the bottom of most business letters. “E&O excepted.” It was an excellent “rider”, and amidst the daily fallout of fat fingers and AI predictive text (Lordy, how I loathe it), I suggest we resurrect this “excuse me”.
Dear Davey… as always, days ago, I listened to your voice telling a tale I would not have believed were it not to have fallen so eloquently from any other but your own fine tongue, a tale I failed to find a moment to reply to.
Then, this morning while I walked my little dog in the half lit gloom of a dreary beginning, the strangest, equally remarkable, unforgettable coincidence occurred, one which has me typing now during a ten minute break this return recounting my own grand tale;
As I was stood quietly waiting for the little fella to finish his morning necessities at the head of the lane that looks down through a few young beech, seemingly yet to decide on the season (though I had no doubts as my skinny body and trembling bones shivered in woollen socks and a winter coat) I spied a pheasant prancing, as proud as punch, like they do, peckering around the edges at something, entirely invisible to me of course. Out of nowhere at all, the sky perhaps, the young beeches more likely, a sparrow hawk swooped, arrow like and as fast to land smack on the back of that poor old unsuspecting pheasant, sunk its sharp talons right in, managed to fly with that glorious creature clutched in claws then dropped it out of the sky about 50 yards into a field… all this amidst much screeching and squawking and flapping of two pairs of wings and loss of feathers from the stately bird so rudely disturbed at his chosen breakfast. I truly thought he was breakfast himself but no, evidently the sparrow hawk made a few necessary calculations, swooped in once more just, I suppose, to say, 'you my have gotten away this time but I'll be back' and returned to from whence he came. Mr Pheasant, visibly ruffled and indignant gave a final screech back and heaved his body into flight and the, at least, temporary safety of some scrubby blackthorn as I too stood in wonder and disbelief.
I am not sure which astonished me most, pheasant or sparrow hawk!
The things we see my friend, the things we see...
When I lived in West Sussex Linda, pheasants were a common sight, if they weren’t quite so beautiful I would have considered them a pest (I know my father did - they caused much foul language to emanate from his beloved vegetable garden) but here they are a rare sight. A few (3 pairs) are placed for breeding each year by the game preservation institute but few survive the foxes and buzzards. To realize they must now be wary of the sparrow hawks also is a thought too depressing to contemplate. They really don’t stand a chance. Although this lucky fella did escape, the two nests I found earlier in the year, both with five beautiful pale brown eggs were raided by a fox, both females and all eggs were taken. I pray only the one remaining female is somewhere well hidden to begin again next year that she and the cock survive the winter—surely the hardest of moths for all wild creatures.
As I said to David earlier survival is often not a beautiful thing.
That is so sad. We were upset this year as Peters lady friend had 9 chicks. One by one they were taken until all were gone. Sparrow-hawk and buzzard. The sparrow-hawk took all our baby robins too and recently a young pigeon. We have trail cameras to watch our hedgehogs. They sometimes record things we prefer not to see.
Carol that is so terribly sad, I am constantly in tears over empty nests and stolen eggs… each one like a poem never to be read.
On a slightly brighter note, this evening I almost stepped on a young female pheasant… one survivor of the rampaging raptors! I just hope cock pheasant finds her.
Wow!
I may have whispered something similar Linda…
I was so shocked about your pheasant! We have Peter, also very self-important, but we are very fond of him. The thought of a sparrow hawk lifting him!! No wonder you were astonished!
Dearest friend,
Imagine it, the absolute gift we are offered, that we continue to offer ourselves, a small, warming fire which we may both feed from halfway around the world, adding sticks and twigs, sentences and tales, kind words, 'I see yous,' and encouragements. The warmth it offers is as real as any stove's and the banking of coals till dawn, till one of the embers' tenders offers some new thought or appreciation...coaxing out a new flame, warming another cup of tea, well that seems for all the world like alchemy, doesn’t it?
I can picture your Sparrow Hawk, thanks to your description, latching onto the back of a prancing, self-important pheasant in faint light, but my seeing requires your testimony to complete the scene. How possibly did he lift all that ego and featheredness, carrying it high into the air before dropping it back to Earth? It is a wonder I think my imagination would fail at, as well, absent your telling.
I am ever so grateful for your reports from the hillside, tales of other beings living fascinating lives, escaping their impending fates, finding a way to live for another day.
How absolutely wonderful to find such a treat awaiting me as the coffee brewed and steeped while the skies had yet to even begin to lighten. This, my friend is what real wealth looks and feels like. I am so grateful.
(BTW, I have a portrait of a young pheasant rooster, captured just a week ago on a deliciously quiet morning in a very birdy place hundreds of miles away. It seems as if it would make the perfect accompaniment to my side of this correspondence, but I cannot sort out how to add photos to comments any better than anyone else. Still, I want to try, so I'm going to also share this to "Notes" and attempt to add the image, an almost regal, slightly twerpy looking pheasant who hasn't quite grown into his adult plumage, yet. This is the fella I pictured as I read your tasty adventure...)
If adding the pic doesn't work, I guess we'll all know soon enough.
Fantastic. I recently witnessed the aftermath of what I believe was an eagle leaving one less goose than I’d previously been watching. Only I only heard the cry while sleeping in the van and reports of the commotion seconds later from friends camping mg a bit closer to the water.
Thank you for sharing, David.
It is my honor to share a bit of magic with such a magician, dear Holly.🙏
Amazing story and superbly written!
Thanks, Silas. 🙏
As usual, David, you’ve transported me and have made my day.
Dear Bryan, news of your transported state, given the high pedestal you occupy in my imagination feels something like being handed a warm cup of cocoa with a bright cymbal clash as punctuation. What I would have given for your wise company and ease with magic that morning, while things that just couldn't quite make sense began falling from the sky. I'd have loved to compare notes, tapping into both our computers to try to arrange the pieces into some sort of reasonable pattern. Thought of you often this trip (there were many dragonflies), including one who flew into my little A-liner trailer, let me hold it and then perched on my finger for two or three minutes before zipping straight out the open door.
Oh what a cliff hanger story, I felt like I was there, looking up, confused and bewildered…bravo🤩
Ok, well, now I’m smiling. So glad you could get a little caught up in this one. It was pretty special to start the day that way. More stories from this latest adventure trip to come. And thank you. Makes my day…
Action at dawn on the beautiful John Day River in early autumn! Intensely gorgeous!
Thanks for joining the adventure, Terry!
This was a great description of nature in the raw. I listened to the audio this time and loved all the inflections you made in describing it all as it was happening.I believe that there should have been some sign of the birds if they had truly been meals for the peregrine. I watch in our area when the blue jays go after the crows. It is interesting as there are almost 2 blue jays on one crow every time. Keep up with this great writing.
Thank you, Teri. I'm glad this one found favor with your story lover's ear...
Bird theater at its finest. I do feel sad though for the two weary geese and their fate. I've noticed that birds have been extremely active. I wonder what they're trying to convey to us humans.
Your note is a gift, Patricia. Thank you.
Since birds find a way to get away quite often, I'm not willing to say that the two missing parties to that flock were in fact killed. They might have gotten away by flying low over the water, continuing downstream. Or... well, we just don't know for certain. I certainly looked and looked, and found no stray feathers or signs of goose demise.
LIke you, I too am trying to listen with my 'between the lines' ears... just in case these messengers are trying to clue us in to something important, or help us find our way.
I wonder if one of the bird messages is to clean up the air since they spend so much time flying through it. I felt sorry for the birds in places like Pittsburgh or other smoggy cities. The other message could be to spread our wings. Who really knows?
Last week, I was sitting at my desk at home talking (online) with a group of librarians. Suddenly, a rush of wings and floating feathers appeared outside my window. The local Cooper's hawk flew in, nabbed a song sparrow eating from my finch feeder, and flew back to the trees with its prey in its talons. It was breathtaking and horrifying in equal measure. I explained what I had just seen, and one of the people said, "so it's a bird feeder in more than one way." Funny :) I left the meeting humming, Feed the Birds, from Mary Poppins. Life can be so unexpected.
Mercy sakes, Martha, humming "Feed The Birds" is a hoot of a response. You have made me giggle, and I am so delighted to hear from you.
Please know that I read and appreciate all your posts, David.
I love your effortless-seeming (but actually very athletic) writing, a blend of sensory details - sounds, tastes, shifts of the light, and knowledgeable interpretation. To see or hear something and know that it was remarkable far beyond what was observed ( the ploy of the peregrines and what that meant for their continued existence and that of their progeny)…well, by god, that’s a gift to any reader. I thank you. Almost as good as being there at your elbow, smelling the hot coffee, listening to the plashy landings of tired geese, and that skin-tingling hiss and rush of sudden death. These are the moments that fuse forever with our synapses, burning right into the electrochemical mystery of brain, heart and spirit. Yep. These are the truly “major events” we will recall as we lie in our dying husks, the experiences that were ours and ours alone, flashes of beauty, terror and insight.
Just one niggling editorial aside. “Arced” has no “k”.
Dear Jude,
What a generous and thoughtful note. I am smiling and ever so grateful for your careful, soulful read.
"These are the moments that fuse forever with our synapses, burning right into the electrochemical mystery of brain, heart and spirit. Yep. These are the truly “major events” we will recall as we lie in our dying husks, the experiences that were ours and ours alone, flashes of beauty, terror and insight." Mercy sakes that is a beautiful set of sentences and so very affirming.
Your last two sentences found a responsive chord in my writer's/storyteller's/speller's sense even before you wrote it. I had it written, originally as 'arced.' But I too had some little niggling sense and so I went and looked it up in a few places, and found multiple sources that pointed me toward adding a 'k,' both for past tense uses and for variations of the word, like 'arcking.'
To my mind neither version 'looks' quite right, which is why I went and checked myself. Best I can tell, either way is acceptable. I'm grateful for your gentle nudge.
From Collins dictionary: https://www.collinsdictionary.com/conjugation/english/arc
'arc' conjugation table in English
Infinitive
to arc
Past Participle
arced or arcked
Present Participle
arcing or arcking
Present
I arc
you arc
he/she/it arcs
we arc
you arc
they arc
Present Continuous
I am arcing or arcking
you are arcing or arcking
he/she/it is arcing or arcking
we are arcing or arcking
you are arcing or arcking
they are arcing or arcking
Present Perfect
I have arced or arcked
you have arced or arcked
he/she/it has arced or arcked
we have arced or arcked
you have arced or arcked
they have arced or arcked
Present Perfect Continuous
I have been arcing or arcking
you have been arcing or arcking
he/she/it has been arcing or arcking
we have been arcing or arcking
you have been arcing or arcking
they have been arcing or arcking
Past
I arced or arcked
you arced or arcked
he/she/it arced or arcked
we arced or arcked
you arced or arcked
they arced or arcked
Past Continuous
I was arcing or arcking
you were arcing or arcking
he/she/it was arcing or arcking
we were arcing or arcking
you were arcing or arcking
they were arcing or arcking
Past Perfect
I had arced or arcked
you had arced or arcked
he/she/it had arced or arcked
we had arced or arcked
you had arced or arcked
they had arced or arcked
Past Perfect Continuous
I had been arcing or arcking
you had been arcing or arcking
he/she/it had been arcing or arcking
we had been arcing or arcking
you had been arcing or arcking
they had been arcing or arcking
Future
I will arc
you will arc
he/she/it will arc
we will arc
you will arc
they will arc
Future Continuous
I will be arcing or arcking
you will be arcing or arcking
he/she/it will be arcing or arcking
we will be arcing or arcking
you will be arcing or arcking
they will be arcing or arcking
Future Perfect
I will have arced or arcked
you will have arced or arcked
he/she/it will have arced or arcked
we will have arced or arcked
you will have arced or arcked
they will have arced or arcked
Future Perfect Continuous
I will have been arcing or arcking
you will have been arcing or arcking
he/she/it will have been arcing or arcking
we will have been arcing or arcking
you will have been arcing or arcking
they will have been arcing or arcking
Ok, Jeeze! I surrender. I am sparked out, arced out, laughing quite hard and hanging up my editor’s monocle and little blue pencil. Good night from Portugal and an exhausted old fart.
Laughing here at BOTH of you. So entertaining.
Big, grateful hug, dear Jude. I am always, always ready to accept nudges and corrections. Just had another dear editor's eyes alert me to having wrongly used 'it's' in a sentence implying possession, last week. Doh!!! Soon as I could, I fixed it and sent her a little note of thanks, backchannel. It really is a kindness, since we both just want a story to put its best foot forward. I appreciate you helping to keep me honest...
If only I were perfect. But I must totter along as well as I can on my little feet of clay. Honesty resonates through and through your offerings, vivid as blood, strong as a booming bell. In past decades, I recall a little note at the bottom of most business letters. “E&O excepted.” It was an excellent “rider”, and amidst the daily fallout of fat fingers and AI predictive text (Lordy, how I loathe it), I suggest we resurrect this “excuse me”.
"AI predictive text (Lordy, how I loathe it), I suggest we resurrect this “excuse me”.
You are funny and I am grateful. May your day be kind, Jude.
As long as the heart keeps beating, it's a good day for me. Blessings on thee, beamish boy.