Welcome to the attic of my mind. Mind the stairs, click the light on and have a rummage around my thoughts on writing, the art of everything second-hand, the natural world, music . . . just about everything. Probably not much about sport.
Monday, 31 May 2010
Wisteria and blackbirds
The Hothouse compound seems to be a favourite spot for nightingales.
I was informed by birder friend, Jonathan, that it's the males who sing - presumably the women are hoovering or something - during the night, and, (in our garden anyway) most of the day. Why are they not named nightanddayinggales, or maybe this only happens in this region of France.
Aforementioned friend glowers when this creature is talked of. In bird enthusiast circles it seems that the song is too strong, thus drowning out fellow bird songsters. It's true that it is loud and long, but intricate and heartrendingly beautiful - all from a small, unremarkable putty-coloured bird.
What has this to do with blackbirds you rambling fool I hear you say...
This film is of blackbirds (I think) singing in a brief interlude between nightingales.
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