Another sonnet.

Sometimes it gets quiet at art fairs.  There is often a bit of a lull around lunch time.  If I’m sitting at the back of the booth at the desk, I’ll often use the time to work on my bucket list item of more Shakesperean sonnets than Shakespeare.  Flagstaff was productive and I was able to write a sonnet each of the three days.  I sometimes have to search around for inspiration, Saturday’s inspiration was the nest of sparrows within tweeting distance.

Sparrows

The sparrow has more color than you’d think

(but painters know burnt umber, wine, ecru)

and though they seem to flit off in a wink

the observer sees the little things they do.

Sometimes they’ll dust in patches of soft sand

and often in a puddle from the rain

with wriggling bodies, wings aflutter, and

the knowledge that they’ll soon feel fresh again.

The well-trained ear can spot each different call –

the black-throat’s glockenspiel and house’s cheep

the white-crowned sparrow’s sweet melodious trill

and common to them all, the young chick’s tweet.

So if you ever thought sparrows were plain

Take another look and listen, think again!

Another sonnet.

I’m still working on that bucket list of writing more Shakespearean sonnets than ‘The Bard’ himself, and sometimes a quieter hour at an art fair can be productive.  Will had the opportunity to write about sparrow, but didn’t, though I don’t think he would ever have seen some of those mentioned, they just weren’t available there!

 

Sparrows

The sparrow has more color than you’d think

(but painters know burnt umber, wine, ecru)

and though they seem to flit off in a wink

the observer sees the little things they do.

Sometimes they’ll dust in patches of soft sand

and often in a puddle from the rain

with wriggling bodies, wings aflutter, and

the knowledge that they’ll soon feel fresh again.

The well-trained ear can spot each different call –

the black-throat’s glockenspiel and house’s cheep

the white-crowned sparrow’s sweet melodious trill

and common to them all, the young chick’s tweet.

So if you ever thought sparrows were plain,

Take another look and listen, think again!

Overcrowding, sparrow style.

I was taking a fresh glass of water back to the studio and paused to watch a pigeon on the birdbath in the front yard.  I was wondering if I needed to refill it.  As I stood motionless so as not to disturb the pigeon while it was drinking, I was listening to the birdsong all around and realized that one voice was out of place.  A small, high pitched intermittant peep.  After a few moments I located the source, a tiny sparrow chick sitting on the ground.  Waaay to young to be out of the nest.  There are several active nests around my house this year so I went and rescued the child, intending to return him to the box or basket from where he’s come.

Waay to young to be out on his own.

On the front porch, one nest was empty, two had very young chicks in (one had a chick and an egg) and one nest was incomplete.  I knew that chicks of an almost-fledged aged were in the basket at the side of the garage, and indeed there were three matching siblings.  And a lot*** of poop.

Is that two sisters and a brother or two brothers and a sister…

Now that I look closer, I think there are actually five chicks in there.  That tallies with the six eggs I photographed when I first noticed the nest was active.  Very crowded.  But I put the escaped chick back in anyway.  Before I’d gotten down the latter, he plopped back onto the ground under the nest.  I guess he got voted out of the nest, perhaps for being the noisiest.  I think the other nests would not be a good match, he’s so much older than the other chicks and as he’s pretty close to fledging anyway, I figured I’d give it a go. It will probably only take about a week to get him on his own.  I knew there was a reason I kept an old hamster cage.

Must go and feed him again.  Ground up bird seed, flour and honey.  I know, that’s probably not the best thing out there, but it’s the closest thing I have in the house to what he might be given by his parents.  I can see it now.  Mama gets back to the nest.  Hey, where’s Frank?  And five beaks answering back… he drew the short straw…..