the mornings are getting lighter but feel as heavy as ever…… jackdaws are still as they have been every year since I came here and being here before I ever was have become to me what ravens are to the Tower of London…..
… they’re busy as usual scratching a living from a somewhat now diminished over time woodland, aged trees mostly ash, sycamore, chestnut, the odd oak, having been supplanted by bungalows alarmingly sprouting in the understorey… will the woodland in time become brickland?……..
… back and forth their flight to and from the canopy collecting branches and twigs to ‘bricks’ for their egg-cups, maybe some moss, the perfect insulation, to the now dozens instead of once upon a time dozens of dozens of dozens of nests….. I keep finding perfectly good sticks strewn on my flat roof or driveway, carelessly dropped on the way or perhaps gifts, for which to secure my own nest…. after all we’ve known each other so long, almost longer than I’ve known any single person, they might even regard me now as a honorary jackdaw……
… I mustn’t forget the rooks who also make up the numbers caw’lling away night and day from the trees, especially as it’s their name that lends itself to their home, the rookery……. perhaps my house should be called a ‘personery’…….. to them I almost dissolve into landscape, this wingless, ground-bound , not very scary scarecrow….. maybe they just tolerate me…….. between them and all the dead people in the graveyard on the other side, that is the other side of the house not ‘the other side’ (cue: spooky music) they’re the best neighbours I’ve ever had, far preferable to living people……..
… it’s not intelligence that separates us from other animals it’s a mortgages, jobs, debt…… too often we wrongly abuse animal names to describe and to hide our worst excesses and traits…….. but at least we have coffee…..
© robert greig 2017