A first glimmering

Crows, Red kites, honesty and Owls

Meanderings

The last storm brought in crows, so many corvids in the back field, a huge flock of crows, rooks, and jackdaws.  Maybe it was not the storms, maybe it was just our turn to host an annual convention of birds, and they swept up over the house in a huge wave of black gloss feather. It was wonderful, several days of wonderful, during which time I didn’t take a single photo. I assumed, as I always do, I could take one tomorrow, as finding the camera would take me away from the glorious moment and anyway, I’ve told you before the crows always vanish if you even think of taking their picture. Now they are gone, I wish I had a video of that swirling maelstrom of feather and claw to prove it happened, to remember it by. I tried to draw it, I draw flights of birds all the time after all, but I find it hard to capture the essence; the crows did not fly in neat synchronisation like starlings, the whole flock had a general direction but the individual birds seemed chaotic, more so from underneath where the highest birds were small and the lowest ones almost touchable.

Last weeks freeze was pretty, and meant I could finally stomp through the waterlogged fields unhindered, but was soon replaced with another battering of storms, which disappointingly didn’t bring any more crowventions with them. In fact, even the regular flock has started to thin out now, separating itself into different species, the crows up here, and the jackdaws squawking round college further down. It feels like the bleak midwinter, but the crows know otherwise. They’ve got other things on their mind.

The red kites too. I saw them on the way to the supermarket for emergency sardines. My son had spent the weekend trying and failing to make up a story to be creatively presented to his English teacher. His mood worsened until I, not allowed to help, started making absurd suggestions, the type that would make his English teacher regret setting homework that caused disruption to my life. ‘Write a story about a kidnapping. I will tie it to a brick, and lob it through his window’, I say. ‘Write a story about a fisherman, and I will put it inside a dead fish and hit him in the face with it’ He liked the fisherman idea, but decided a sardine cans would get a better grade. He dremelled the back open and (disappointingly if you ask me) replaced the fish with a story, hiding the opening with a sticker we made from a photo of the back of the tin with altered ingredients: Plot, characters, creativity.

I digress. Two red kites were being tumbled about in the wind, and one dropped, wings folded, emerging some moment late with thier prize- not a morsel, but a twig. I wonder if I have missed the courtship dance, the high plunging acrobatics over the back fields I once witnessed- or if it is like a marriage, a one off affair, not to be repeated. It doesn’t matter; what matters is the pair, already successful parents, are preparing to bring more red kites into the world.

I gather more data on my walks; the increasing noise of the great tits in the woods - only one at the start of the month, but now a chorus of wheezing bicycle pumps. Small furry catkins. One snowdrop, followed by, in a matter of only a few days, crowds of bobbing white heads. The first green shoots in the leafy covering of the woodland floor. Imbolc. The first signs of spring.

Spring is a way off, but satisfied things are moving in right direction, I return to my wintering; there are still fires to be lit and candles, blankets and warm beverages to be enjoyed, after all. No need to hurry. Let things unfurl.

Workings

It has not been my most industrious week, unless you count the dress I made, which you probably shouldn’t, as dressmaking is not actually my job, and it’s been a devastatingly slow week in the shop (unless you count nice thankyou messages of which I have three). I really should’ve done better.

Once I finished drawing crows badly, I moved on the drawing the seed pods of some honesty that grew in the garden; it seemed an easy sort of thing to experiment with.  Stylised renderings I have seen gave me the impression the seed pods are round discs, simple regular things, and this is in conflict with the irregular shapes my eyes were seeing, which caused a battle to sprawl  on my sketchbook page. I was not happy with the drawing so I tried again; it is almost identical.   Honesty is not round, and I can’t imagine why I thought it would be simple.

It’s important to remember your goals, not fall into the trap of perfection. Here the aim of my drawing was simply to see if I could make a lithography print, so I took a small fragment of the drawing and transferred it to the plate despite my frustration with the image. To be honest (pun intended), I didn’t have too much problems with the printing. This is my second polyester plate lithograph (with chine collé) and I’ll be working a little more with this image next week.

Findings

I haven’t have much time for finding in between failing to do anything much creative and avoiding work so I’m very sorry; I meant to go and spy on the things you are reading to report on something good, but I haven’t. I haven’t even got round to reading the things I’m subscribed to, and I have a feeling I had some interesting article I wanted to refer back to that I’ve forgotten about completely. It’s quite hard to concentrate with all the owls hooting. I can’t include the tawny owls in my list of springtime bird activities because as you know, they’ve been going on (loudly) since autumn. I’m a bit worried about the one in the back garden because I heard him at 7.30 in the morning, and by 5.30 at night, he’s back at it. I’m not sure he’s getting enough sleep, all this breeding must be stressing him out. I need an owl psychologist. I’m still pretty sure there’s a front garden owl and a back garden owl unless one is circling the house frantically hooting. Why are there so many owls? Are they a pair, or rivals? You can see I’m very busy and don’t have much time

Don’t forget it’s big garden birdwatch day if you’re in the U.K. - last Sunday at 10 we had a flock of redwings and a greater spotted woodpecker in the garden so I’ll be sure to see none of that (or owls) as all the birds hide for the morning. Till next week, friends.