Saturday 13 July 2019

The Message of the Birds.

I saw a few House Martins for the first time yesterday afternoon, hunting over the garden in the sunshine. Where have they been since May? It used to be a favourite occupation of mine to sit in the garden all summer long watching a flock of 15-20 martins swooping, wheeling and riding the air currents in their quest for insects. Their grace, speed and agility used to keep me enthralled from the middle of May to the middle of September. Yesterday there were three of them; today there are four.

What I did see a couple of months ago was a single swallow hunting in the field behind the house. Swallows are more about power than grace, so watching them is just as fascinating but in a slightly different way. What was unusual was seeing only one. When they did venture this far down the lane, they used to come in small groups and mingle with the martins. To see one hunting alone on successive days was odd. And the swifts I used to see hunting high over the river valley in the distance disappeared about five years ago. I suppose it’s all due to climate change.

You know, I remember with much fondness and self-envy my youth when I was fit, supple and strong; when I could wrestle bigger men than me to the ground on a rugby pitch, when I could walk thirty miles a day in hill country carrying a heavy pack, when I could run 100 metre races in high school and compete with the best. But if I were offered my youth again now, I don’t think I’d take it.

The combination of climate change, the rise of the right, the continuing predominance of elderly male psychopaths in positions of power, and the real threat of economic meltdown suggest a future of dire turbulence. And if my faith in today’s young women turns out to be misplaced, I don’t think I could be bothered to play the role of a latter day Noah.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

Once upon a time, I lived a lonely life on a mountain top in a foreign-to-me land. This blog kept me company, and I was grateful. My life is different and infinitely happier now, but I will still sometimes still stop by here to see if you’re still around. Glad you are. I hope you’re taking care and enjoying at least some approximation of a sweet summer. Thanks, Jeff, for your irreverent musings and keeping vigil in this corner of the nebulous Web.

Kindest regards,

Sara of Turkey, now of another place.

Anonymous said...

Despite the passage of years, I have not learned to proofread and will continue to write paragraphs that host the WORST, clumsiest sentences.

JJ said...

Well blow me...

You know, I sometimes read old posts when I see that somebody has specifically accessed them. And if there are comments I read them, too. Sometimes I come across yours and remember how welcome they were. And of course, I wonder where you are now and what you're up to.

I get very few comments these days and choose not to mind, but suddenly here you are: one of the brightest of the stars come winging across the vastness of cyberspace just to say 'hello.' (Sorry for the OTT language which doesn't even have the grace to be purple.)

Thank you for touching base again. It was a most welcome surprise. And fie, my lady, for the undeserved compliment.

My little stats tracker suggests you're in Vermont now. That would seems to suit you since the monts there are no doubt more vert than they were in Turkey, at least in the summer. (I remember what you said about all the green appearing briefly in spring.)

It really was lovely to hear from you, Sara, and I'm glad that you are infinitely happier now.