The Magpie's Nest

by Thomas Taffy

  Ancient Greeks believed that kingfishers built their nests on rafts of fish bones floating on the Mediterranean, with their eggs incubated for seven days before and seven days after the winter solstice. To allow this, the gods made sure that the seas were always calm at this time. As the Greek name for kingfisher is halcyon, these particular days were known as ‘halcyon days’, an expression we still use to this day.

  Another tale has the kingfisher as the first bird to fly from Noah’s Ark. The kingfisher received the orange of the setting sun on its breast and the blue of the sky on its back, making it a symbol promising prosperity, peace and love.

  ROOKS

  The most communal of the corvid family, the clamour of families of rooks building their nests close to each other in the tree tops is yet another sign of the arrival of spring. Rooks can be heard when in their nests to be talkative and indeed, as the most social of birds, they have a number of ‘words’ – sounds with particular meanings.

  At the beginning of the evening these sounds are strident and loud but, as the colony begins to settle for the night, the sound quietens almost to a lullaby – truly, tunes and tales!

  ‘Storytelling’ has been used as a collective noun for each of the corvid species, but as you will see from the following quote by George Yeates, rooks are without doubt the best storytellers:

  I would not exchange a ‘seat’ at a rookery for the best entertainment in London.

  Whilst many folk are unable to differentiate between rooks, crows and ravens, in Sussex and Norfolk they say:

  If you sees two rooks together, them’s crows

  If you see a flock of crows, them’s rooks.

  Or, as the author likes to say:

  So, if you see one large black bird it’s probably a crow.

  If you see a flock of large black birds they’re probably rooks.

  And if you see a raven you’re probably in the Tower of London!

  OWLS

  These birds are usually solitary but when together are known as a parliament as they are considered to be wise. This is probably because the little owl was often depicted with Athena, the Greek goddess of wisdom. Ironically, Tony Warburton, the director of the owl sanctuary when it was at Muncaster Castle in Cumbria, always said this accolade was sometimes misplaced as his owls could often behave in a less than wise fashion!

  In one of his poems, Geoffrey Chaucer referred to a ‘parliament of fowls’. The author C.S. Lewis punned this, changing it to a ‘parliament of owls’ in the Chronicles of Narnia who are most featured in the novel The Silver Chair.

  LINNETS

  Archaically the word ‘parcel’ could refer to any grouping of creatures or people with some common characteristic, or an area of land. For example, the Jacobite rebels were referred to as a ‘parcel of rogues‘. Perhaps the linnets’ tendency to gather and take over a gorse or flax patch may have given rise to its collective noun.

  The name linnet comes from the Old French word ‘linette’ which meant flax (used to make linen), another connection to gatherings on patches of these plants. It is on this common ground where these tiny songbirds assemble to nest, feed or roost. Truly, in old parlance, they make a parcel.

  They sing so beautifully that Wordsworth argued that their song was of more worth than books:

  Books! ‘tis a dull and endless strife:

  Come, hear the woodland linnet

  How sweet his music! On my life

  There’s more of wisdom in it.

  (William Wordsworth)

  PHEASANTS

  It is commonly known that pheasants are not indigenous to Britain. They were, in fact, brought here by the Romans who kept them penned. Insufficient numbers of them survived to form a feral population, however – this only came when the Normans re-introduced them in the eleventh century. They then became a welcome addition to the bill of fayre at wealthy monastic establishments.

  When gathered on the ground they are known as a ‘covey’, but when they are flushed to be hunted, once airborne, they become a ‘bouquet’. This bright aerial spectacle explains the appropriateness of this collective noun.

  With their long tail trailing in flight, it is appropriate that a poacher’s name for them is ‘comet’. Indeed, any bird that has this long tail feather and shape in flight has the word pheasant attached to its name. Thus, a long-tailed duck can be known as a sea pheasant ,or a little bearded tit as a reed pheasant.

  GOLDFINCHES

  When gathered together, a group of goldfinches is known as a ‘charm’. Charm comes from the Middle English word ‘charme’, not surprising as many collective nouns for birds date back to the mid-fifteenth century.

  Charm also derives from the Latin ‘carmen’, meaning magic song or spell, and indeed the goldfinch is known as having a magical song.

  LARKS

  The song of the lark, particularly the skylark, delivered from the heights stirs the spirituality of the listener. It caused the poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge to write:

  Oh singing lark, that singest like an angel in the clouds!

  The lark’s song is most often associated with daybreak, inspiring my dear friend song writer Bill Caddick to use these words in his beautiful song ‘Waiting for the lark’:

  Sleep on child while the birds rest on

  And the cow she sleeps in her stall

  Oh the meadow stands grey

  In this dew-down moment before the day

  And waits for the lark to call

  And waits for the lark to call.

  Sleep on child while the fields are still

  They wait for your father’s hand

  But he will not go

  And the sun will not shine

  And the cock will not crow

  ’til the lark cries over the land

  ’til the lark cries over the land.

  With its vertical display flight whilst bursting forth in song, this tiny bird is symbolically seen as ascending to heaven. Perhaps ‘exaltation’ expresses both the movement upwards and the uplifting of the listeners’ souls.

  GEESE

  When in flight geese are known as a ‘skein’. This comes from the old French word ‘esceigne’, meaning a hank of yarn, which when folded back resembled the ‘V’ shape that the geese make in flight.

  The feathers of the greylag goose, traditionally thought of as the British goose, has provided us with feathers for quills and fletching for arrows. Its tendency to take flight at the merest hint of danger probably gave us the expression ‘wild goose chase’.

  Country folk use the sighting and pattern of passing flights of geese to forecast the coming weather. There is no more evocative sign of autumn than the sighting of a passing skein of geese. The magic of this sight has inspired many artists and indeed one of the finest storybooks to be written, ‘The Snow Goose’ by Paul Gallico.

  9

  THE ROBIN

  A Riddle

  I’m called by the name of a man

  Yet I’m as tiny as a mouse

  When winter comes I love to be

  With my red target near the house.

  What am I?

  The Robin and the Wren

  This is probably the oldest known legend of why the Robin has a red breast.

  It was the iron winter. All the people on Earth were freezing and shivering, but not so cold that they didn’t take time to see that the small birds had water to drink; important when rivers, ponds, lakes and puddles were frozen into solid ice.

  The only fire in the universe was in the centre of the Earth – the fires of hell. Two birds, the wren and her friend the robin, decided to repay people’s kindness by bringing them fire. The two small brown birds bravely flew down through a crack in the Earth to the fires of hell. They flew past cages where poor souls were being tormented by Old Nick’s imps with sharp pointed sticks and pitchforks. They approached a fierce fire with a red old man with two horns, cloven hoofed feet and a tail: yes Old Nick, Old Scratch, the Devil himself.

  Th
e wren grabbed a fiery brand in her beak and the two friends flew upwards towards the crack in the Earth’s surface and safety. Sadly the fire was so hot that the wren’s feathers caught light. Seeing his best friend in such distress the robin flew close to her, wrapping his brown wings around his tiny friend to smother the flames. With such loyalty and bravery it is sad that in stifling the flames they scorched the robin’s breast, turning it bright red. This caused the thankful people on receiving the gift of fire to make a special place, in their gardens and in their hearts, for both Jenny Wren and Robin Redbreast. Giving rise to the old saying:

  The robin redbreast and the wren

  Are God Almighty’s cock and hen.

  The two picturesque legends that follow about this small bird mark the beginning and the end of the life of one Jesus Christ of Nazareth – the Nativity and the Passion.

  The Helpful Robin

  When Joseph the old carpenter took his pregnant wife Mary to Bethlehem, there was a great star in the sky. With all the inns full to the roofbeams, the couple were forced to sleep in a stable at the back of the hostelry. On that magical night, Mary gave birth to a ‘king’ far greater than any king who has ever set foot on this earth. This arrival was marked by visits from both foreign potentates and local shepherds, with gifts for the new baby boy. When Herod the king, a vain and jealous man, heard that such a powerful child had been born in his territory, he vowed the child must be killed. Accordingly, he ordered his soldiers to go out and murder the first-born son in every family.

  Joseph took his wife Mary and his newborn baby, Jesus, down the road to seek safety. Someway along the road the family spotted a cave where they could conceal themselves. Joseph placed the baby on a rock but the night was cold and the baby lay shivering. Joe collected together a handful of sticks and twigs, the makings of a fire. He scrunched up a scrap of parchment and arranged the wood over it before putting a spark to the paper. The old man knelt down to blow the fire gently into life. Exhausted from the journey, Joseph didn’t have enough breath to do it.

  A tiny brown bird fluttered into the cave over the newborn baby. Seeing the old man struggling, the tiny brown bird flapped its wings to create a draught. It flapped its wings so hard that the fire flared up suddenly, scorching that little bird’s breast, turning it bright red. The following morning, Mary, Joseph and Jesus continued their journey to the Holy Land and safety. As for that bird, ever since then it has had a red breast, which is why we call him Robin Redbreast; although latterly, just Robin – perhaps its Christian name?

  The Compassionate Robin

  More than 2000 years ago, Palestine was part of the vast Roman Empire. The occupying Romans noticed that an apparently simple Jewish man from Nazareth seemed to be gaining power by virtue of the fact that he was a great storyteller, and used the stories to express his spirituality, drawing vast crowds whenever he appeared in public. A man with such charisma posed a threat both to Jewish elders and also to Roman leaders. Something had to be done.

  Accordingly, as the time approached for the mass execution of a number of criminals, this man Jesus Christ was added to the list of those who would perish by crucifixion. Wishing to further humiliate the special man, they forced a crown of thorns on his head and then they forced him to carry his cross through the town to the hill, the site of his execution. Jesus hung on the cross with the thorns sticking into his forehead and blood trickling down his cheek in the scorching heat. A tiny brown bird collected water in its beak from a clear stream and, circling the cross, dropped cool water on the parched tongue and lips of Jesus. The bird then, using its beak, pulled the thorns out one by one. As this bird drew out the last thorn, a spot of blood dropped from the cheek of Jesus onto the bird’s breast, turning it bright red.

  Ever since then, that bird has had the name Robin Redbreast, but strangely, the second part of the name fell into disuse and we simply know it now as the robin. Jenny Wren, however, is never called a ‘Jenny’ and Tom Tit is never a ‘Tom’.

  10

  THE HERON

  Straddling bulrushes

  Beak like a spear

  Bright of eye, sharp of ear

  Tadpoles would make a delicious dinner

  An emerald frog must need hop clear

  As it has done for four hundred thousand years

  And must never ever take a chance

  Any where near a heron’s stance!

  ( The author)

  The Heron’s Stance

  In this heron story, a sort of creation or evolution myth, the heron uses its strength and wit to help and even shape the appearance of a fellow creature we know and love.

  It seems completely appropriate that the heron, with its magical, almost prehistoric appearance, should observe and even play a part in a creation or evolution myth.

  Many years ago, before Noah was a sailor, Heron had taken his customary stance on the river bank, when he spotted some small trout shining in the stream and wondered how he might catch one for his tea.

  Then he saw a small grey animal with tiny ears and a big, long bushy tail who obviously had similar plans for his supper. This little creature was a coney. Heron was a little irked about someone else coming along to plunder his larder but, on second thoughts, decided there was probably enough to share. Then who should come stomping down the river bank but Old Daddy Fox, with similar intentions. The sly old fox told Coney that he could tell him the best way to catch a fish.

  He waggled his bottom and flipped the tip of his red tail into the water. He sat patiently waiting for a bite. He was using his tail as a fishing line.

  As soon as a fish nipped the end of his tail, he pulled it out gently, seized it in his mouth and strolled back up the fell side to feed the fish to his vixen and cubs.

  Coney decided to try the same ploy. He waggled his bottom and flipped the tip of his white tail into the water. He was sitting patiently waiting for a bite when who should come slithering upstream but Jack Frost. The river quickly turned to ice, trapping Coney’s tail.

  He was stuck fast by the tail when Heron, ignoring his annoyance that they were competing for the same supper, decided to fly over and help.

  Heron seized one of Coney’s little ears in his beak, flapped his wings and pulled, stretching the ear. Next he seized the other ear, flapped his wings and pulled so that Coney’s ears were so long that they met over the top of his head. Heron then seized both ears in her beak, flapped her wings and gave an enormous tug. There was a snapping noise as Coney’s tail broke off a few inches from his backside, leaving a bobbly tail like a lump of cotton wool.

  Confused, Coney shook his head, discovering he had long floppy ears. He looked so different with his long floppy ears and his bobbly tail that all of the other animals stopped calling him Coney and started calling him ‘rabbit’ or ‘bunny’. When, in time, he fathered his own young, they too had long ears and bobbly tails so they were also called rabbits or bunnies.

  From that day, whenever Coney spotted Heron standing on one leg on the river bank he remembered the day that Heron had come to his rescue, accidentally shaping his ears and helping him better hear approaching predators and remain safe. And, of course there was always enough fish for Heron and Coney to share.

  Jack and the Heron

  In my adoptive home, the Lake District, the heron is known as a ‘jammy crane’. Now that must be a story – but it’s one I have yet to find!

  This elegant bird has a slightly strange appearance that virtually reveals its origins from the era of the dinosaurs. In Lancashire it is known as a ‘jemmy lang legs’, in Ireland as a ‘crying crane’ and also now as ‘Old Nog’ by author Henry Williamson in the book Tarka the Otter.

  The flesh of this bird was a welcome addition in Medieval times to the bill of fayre of places like wealthy monasteries such as Waltham Abbey.

  The first tale came to me from my friend, Scottish traveller storyteller Duncan Williamson, who loved Jack tales. This Heron story was just asking to be a Jack tale. I have used
my wit to make it one.

  The story that follows this one originates from the prolific Aesop and shows that the heron, apart from once having been the ingredient of a good meal, liked to dine out itself.

  Many years ago, the king of the land lived in a castle. A young man called Jack worked in the castle kitchen. He was kitchen porter, waiter, and did whatever needed doing. The king loved to dine on wildfowl. One day his hunter brought the chef a heron that he’d shot with an arrow on the riverbank. A young bird that would probably make good eating. Jack of course got the messy task of plucking and drawing the bird. Coated with bacon, butter and fresh herbs, it was placed in a hot oven to roast. After this work, Jack was given a short break to go outside and flirt with the servant girls. When he returned to the kitchen to continue his shift, the roast bird, crisp and brown, had been taken out of the oven and was standing on a rack to rest, for you should always rest meat when it’s removed from the oven.

  Cooked perfectly and smelling glorious, hungry Jack was tempted. He couldn’t resist easing one of the legs from the carcass and nibbling it. To cover his tracks, he tossed the bone to the castle dog and placed a silver dome over the bird on the plate.

  Jack now became the waiter and walked briskly to the king’s table, confidently lifting the silver lid. After an approving glance at his dinner and savouring the smell, the king noticed the bird appeared to only have one leg. He challenged Jack who, looking his master in the eye, assured him that this kind of bird – a heron – only has one leg. The king doubted this and started to show signs of turning nasty. Jack, resourceful as ever, invited his master to follow him to the river. The silver dome was placed back over the dinner, and the king trailed Jack out of the castle and down to the river.