Starlings

Now here is a thing, some forty years ago there was a programme called Opportunity Knocks on the television – and it introduced me to the lass who became one of my all-time favourite poets – Pam Ayres.

I rocked with laughter at her closely observed humour and appreciated the real skill in her work – and I still do!

She will be at the Grassington Arts Festival in June and the Ledbury Poetry Festival next month and has her latest collection – numbering some fifty new poems out now as a paperback – ‘You Made Me Late Again’ will have you looking for more…..

But hey! This is not about Poetry Corner – Birds is the interest here – and if you’ve never read Pam’s poetry then start with her take on Starlings – I’ll just quote her first two verses……

We're starlings, the misses, meself and the boys,
We don't go round hopin', we walks.
We don't go in for this singing all day,
And twittering about, we just squawks.

We don't go in for these fashionable clothes,
Like old Missel Thrush, and his spots,
Me breast isn't red, there's no crest on me head,
We've got sort of, hardwearing...dots.

….and the reason for this ramble is that my Starlings are back.

First there were a couple of adults – then, within a few days about half-a-dozen. Now the count is more than twenty individuals with loads of juveniles and the mayhem has commenced – strutting, squabbling and never boring – I stand and watch them for longer than I should – there are things to do – but then, life’s too short to miss this microcosm of humanity.

…..and Pam is right, the observation is spot on – walking, squawking, eating arguing.

Starlings are an absolute joy – Welcome back boys!