Some books from entertwined paths along the way.. 'Alex & Me' - I am reading now.
The others, remembered and cherished and held. Ever returning, one way or another.
And something to look forward to too...
"Our adult identity rests on the pillars of interpersonal love, and gainful work" page 58 'Home Coming'
H is for Hawk, by Helen Macdonald
Alex and Me, by Irene M. Pepperberg - This I am reading now. It is also a film! [a few of these books are films]
A Kestrel for a Knave, by Barry Hines
The snow geese, by William Fiennes
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To read: [not in order]
No Way but Gentleness: A memoir of how KES, my Kestrel, changed my life, by Richard Hines, [Richard was the borther of Barry Hines: A Kestrel for a Knave]
The Goshawk, by T H White. [This book is partly what inspired Helen Macdonald to write 'H is for Hawk']
My side of the Mountain, by Jean Craighead George.
The Snow Goose, by Paul Callico
...
A few weeks ago we started visiting a newly born little bird at our local 'uccelleria'. It was a 'Pappagallo Inseperabile', which directly translated means, more or less, 'inseperable little parrot'.
In fact, in English we call them 'Love Birds' . I like the Italian version. But what I didn't know until it was explained, was that these birds becomes insperable from their primary 'owner' for want of a better word. They are great birds to tame, especially if you hand rear them using a syringe and a kind of baby bird poridge.
This is what they look like when they are pretty small:
So my idea, was for Gabriel to become inseperable from the little bird, or the bird to become inseperable from Gabriel or both and just to see what happens and what this inseperability consists of.
We already had 2 Cardellini [finches] which are chirpy colourful spirited little birds, that can't, as far as I know, be tamed. These were our first birds. I dont know what type we have, but one of the things that I love about finches is that they are part of the weaver bird family and in South Africa, as a child, I was always fascinated by the nests of the weaver birds. I love bird stories. Once, our finches layed eggs, but we didnt know how to help them and the baby birds got thrown out the nest. Perhaps it wasnt warm enough for them. We should have put a warm lamp next to the cage. Next time we will. Also, you cant get too close to finches. They're nervy little birds.
So we visited the new little birds and Gabriel held them, for the first time, which was a wonderful experience. The birds were so young at that time, that we decided to wait a week or two before bringing one home. Finally the time came, and we brought Joe Biden home with us, with great excitement, it was as if the little bird was akin to a brother or sister.
I must say that apparent inseperable-ness was intrenched right away. A feeding and playing regime was set up and our world changed!
Without going into detail, sadly, Joe Biden didn't survive. We learned a lot about sitting with difficult feelings and letting them pass and imagining what bird heaven might look like and praying to the higher power of birds. Joe Biden was buried, with Frida and some other animals in Alta Villa.
We decided, that, we would go back to our local uccelleria, and see if there were any Joe Biden siblings left to bring home. Unfortunately there weren't but we waited patiently, and two weeks later, we proudly brought home Obama, who has now been with us about 4 days. He is forociously hungry, very attached to Gabriel and loves to climb all over us. He is settling in well and has become part of the family. [tonight he devoured 3 syringes full of bird poridge!]
We hope that one day we can live in a house with a garden. We could build a walk-in aviary and collect more birds. We could have bird baths and grow things and sit outside having cups of tea and draw and listen to the sound of tree branches and birds and leaves and put our feet in the sand.
We could grow different seeds to see what happens watch as trees grow bigger than people.
In the meantime, I particularly enjoy thinking about this and reading my books and making things with my hands.
"She was not quite what you would call refined. She was not quite what
you would call unrefined. She was the kind of person that keeps a
parrot." Mark Twain
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And the final chapter for today, my own winged boy himself!
