Birds in the garden

starling

Sparrows, sparrows everywhere. Once a wren and a few times a robin. More starlings than I can count and enough wood pigeon to bend the feeder out of shape.

Having a garden is a joy – even more so than I had anticipated moving into a ‘proper’ house. It is north facing and as such this time of year it is largely just soggy grass but none the less the birds are there and happily going about their business. No thanks for the humans and their food supplies, but none are needed.

In our previous residence, a flat up in skies, we saw birds living in the tops of the trees immediately outside the living room and kitchen windows. It in itself was a pleasure but having no means to support them meant weeks could go by without seeing a single flutter and the nest in the tree alarmingly quiet of young. Not so now with feeder and dishes of various treats and temptations out for the birds. So far none of the blue tits, chaffinches or wagtails I’ve seen elsewhere around here, but there is hope for that yet in 2018.

Sparrow photo © Jose B. Ruiz / naturepl.com

Eun
– bird
ee-an

Eòin – birds
Yaw-yn

Gealbhonn – sparrow
gyall-uh-vun.   Gaelic has an abundance of words where vowel sounds between consonants are pronounced but not written (svarabhakti vowels, for those wondering). That uh between the l and bh in Gealbhonn is such an example.

Druid – starling
droo-tch
Dreathan donn – wren
dreh-han down

Have a listen to this love song from Tobar an Dualchais wherein a woman falls asleep on Ben Cruachan, dreams of a sparrow (and a cuckoo) and her old flame. It’s called Dh’Èirich Mise, Rinn Mi Gluasad and was recorded in 1952. I’m quite fond of it.

Thanks to Arkive and respective photographers for use of photos.

Wren photo © Jim Zipp / www.ardea.com
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Of the sea, on the wall

My partner and I bought our first home together earlier this year. After years of living in rented accommodation where even moving furniture is problematic, far less painting walls or heaven forbid actually removing furniture, we’re happily living in something of a white box, with everything being entirely of our choosing.

Shortly after moving in, I took delivery of an antique bureau given to me as a present by my parents for my 21st birthday. It’s installed in a corner of the spare room, and hanging above it the only thing we have up on the walls: an old printers tray.

It’s not yet filled – I don’t think it will be for some years – but each filled space represents a walk, visit or holiday somewhere special. I think it’s quite nice to look at – of course I do, I’ve chosen everything that’s in it – bit more importantly it’s a collection representing places, landscapes and the people I experienced them with.

I enjoy staring up at it as I work at my bureau, trying to piece together where everything has come from and considering future additions.

Some of my favourite pieces:

Conan mara – sea urchin
conan mar-ah

Faochag – Periwinkles, wilks
Fuh-chag. The -ao here is not easily replicated, as it’s just not a sound that exists in English. It’s somewhere between the sounds duh and doo. The -ch is always pronounced as in ‘loch’.

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-Snaidhm ròpa – rope knots
sh-na-im raw-pa

Sporan-feannaig – Mermaid’s purse, an egg case
sporr-an fyen-ak

Faoiteag – Groatie buckies or cowrie shells
Fuh-tch-ak (It is very good luck to find these!)

Names for bivalves, molluscs and the like vary hugely from region to region. All the Gaelic names listed above are fairly ‘standard’ but don’t be surprised if on speaking to someone you find they have almost an entirely different vocabulary for talking about the same thing. It doesn’t make life easy for the Gaelic learner but it does make life more interesting.

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