Showing posts with label Jeffrey Hudson. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jeffrey Hudson. Show all posts

Monday, 24 April 2023

A to Z challenge 2023 – T is for . . .

 



A to Z challenge 2023 – T is for . . .

My theme for this challenge is Nature in all much of her wonderful diversity. My posts will reflect the fact that I am resident in the south of England.

All photographs in this post are the property of the writer.

T is for Turdus merula (blackbird)

Blackbirds are common across the UK in every terrain, apart from the highest peaks.

The blackbird has a beautiful fluting song and chooses a high point in a tree or on a house to sing, proclaiming its territory. They are particularly noticeable in my area at the end of the day, the mellow golden notes carrying far and wide in the still air.

The male blackbird is all black with golden eyes and bill. Mrs Blackbird and all the little blackbirds are brown with splotches on their breasts and their beaks are a duller yellow-brown. The birds are noticeable for their habit of flicking their tails when alighting on trees or shrubs. Maybe it is an aid to gaining their balance on landing.

Often blackbirds can be seen on the ground, cocking their heads towards the ground, looking as if they’re listening and in fact, that is exactly what they are doing. They can hear movement below the surface of the earth and pull up earthworms to eat. They also eat caterpillars, berries and fruit and can frequently be seen rustling through the undergrowth, flipping leaves over as they search for insects.

Mrs Blackbird is brown

It is said to be a sign of good luck if blackbirds nest near your house, but their colouring also made them a symbol of death, mystery or magic. Shamans considered them spirit messengers and others held them sacred to gods and goddesses in mythology.

In Ireland in the 19th century, blackbirds were believed to contain the souls of those condemned to remain in purgatory until Judgement Day. When their cries were more than usually shrill, it was said it was the suffering parched souls calling for water.

In England in the 16th century, pastry cooks and chefs were noted for devising unusual dishes with surprising contents. Thus, ‘Sing a song of sixpence’ may be based on such a pie.

Sing a song of sixpence,

A pocket full of rye

Four and twenty blackbirds

Baked in a pie.

When the pie was opened

The birds began to sing,

Now wasn’t that a dainty dish

To set before the King?

 

The King was in his counting house.

Counting out his money,

The Queen was in the parlour

Eating bread and honey,

The maid was in the garden

Hanging out the clothes,

When down flew a blackbird

And pecked off her nose.

 

Hearing all the commotion,

Little Jenny Wren

Flew down into the garden

And stuck it on again.

The last verse was added later to make the tale more palatable.

Whether such a pie was ever served has fired many imaginations and plausible and implausible explanations, but it is true that in Tudor times interesting things were put inside pie crusts. The custom continued into the 17th century - see Jeffrey Hudson.