Which is a bit what my head feels like just now, inside and out.
Finding myself again with a lot of odds and sods I might be able to blog about, and having got so far as to get a number of them uploaded onto a web album and Youtube, but lacking the power of concentration to gather them all together into a satisfying and coherent post, I shall try to put them up in small packages and be quick about it, as before.
Tom has been attacking the garden with a will, and a pair of tree-loppers.
(Look, there he is, lurking in the undergrowth -
)
He found this,
and carefully cut it away, including its supporting armature of cotoneaster branches, to show me.
We don't know quite who it belonged to; trying to find out was interesting. It's considerably more finely made than most of the blackbird nests we find, though it might just be a serious minded blackbird with a better sense of design than most. The blue baler twine, I think, adds a decided William Morris touch.
It can't be a song thrush, since although it is held together with carefully applied mud/cow dung, in a wattle and daub fashion, it is not lined with it, added with saliva and smoothed out, which it seems is what they do.
It might be a mistle thrush, as we certainly have those around and they are fond of interleaving a variety of found objects within the structure. Anyway, it has an aesthetic of its own.
~
We have our usual annual summer visitors coming tomorrow (we hope, travel problems - desperate migrants in the tunnel, tyre-burning ferry workers at the border, stroppy French farmers on the roads etc - permitting), less one female (step-)grandchild on the brink of her majority who has decided to spread her wings and go visit friends in California, which is kind of weird and exciting and a little poignant, we thought she was still only about eleven. Hence I feel a bit dishevelled and chaotic, since it's only when visitors come that I discover how many neglected and grubby corners the house has and that I'm not quite sure where all the spare bed linen is. But on the premise of want-something-done-ask-a busy-person I might actually be inclined to get here regularly for a bit visitors notwithstanding.
Now, time for more wine.
9 comments:
What a beautiful nest! I like studying the architecture of nests, trying to divine what one item was chosen over another, in what order and whether there is an avian esthetic at work or pure randomness.
I have a small collection of nests (four, I think), each as different from the other as the location and builders are themselves.
Nice to read your postings again, Lucy.
Nice nest.
It's always time for more wine!
Merveilleusement beau! Until you mentioned the blue baler twine a Lucy touch was on my mind thinking it was a strand of knitting wool.
Beautiful creation. Found a photo of a hummingbird nest, will post soon.
Let there be wine! A nest is truly a breathtaking thing. As a little girl I was intrigued by how the birds were able to do this without hands. One spring, I looked out of my great-grandmother's second-story bedroom window at the tree just outside and noticed a bird building a nest. My Oma Anna and I missed meals watching them. One of my most cherished memories. Yet I've not ever seen one close up. This one really does have a Morris touch. Beautiful!
A PS: to the comment before - what a loving gesture from Tom, not only the nest but the careful delivery of it to you intact; so thoughtful.
Real oenophiles never refer to wine anonymously (as here) but identify it at the very least by region (eg, "A very dry Loire.") There is one exception to this rule: when the wine doesn't deserve identification. May I make the obvious conclusion?
However, I think the clever and specialised use of "armature" gets you off the hook.
beautiful nest, a real work of art
Thanks chaps.
Busy-ness is keeping me busy, back very soon!
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