Four and Twenty Blackbirds

Red-winged Blackbird

You are no doubt familiar with the English nursery rhyme "Sing a Song of Sixpence":

 

Sing a song of sixpence,

A pocket full of rye,

Four ands twenty blackbirds,

Baked in a pie.

When the pie was opened,

The birds began to sing;

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 came a blackbird

And pecked off her nose.

There was such a commotion,

that little Jenny wren;

Flew down into the garden,

and put it back again.

A bit silly and nonsensical, but this rhyme "flew" into my mind when I started thinking about today's subject, the Red-winged Blackbird.

The common name for the Red-winged Blackbird is taken from the mainly black adult male's colouring and distinctive red shoulder patches, which are visible when the bird is flying or displaying.

 At rest, the male also shows a pale yellow wing bar.

The female Red-wing is blackish-brown, as you can see from the picture below, and is smaller than the male.

Female Red-winged Blacbird (above and below)

 Young birds resemble the female, but are paler below and have buff feather fringes. Both sexes have a sharply pointed bill. The tail is of medium length and is rounded. The eyes, bill, and feet are all black.

At this time of year they are gathering around the pond area in a nearby park. The males are displaying, either perched on a bull rush or atop a tree.

Red-winged Blackbird and reflection

Red-winged Blackbirds have a very distinct call and puff themselves up as they call. Here is a short video/ audio of Red-winged Black bird's song:

The Red-winged black bird is aggressively territorial and will attack much larger birds. Last Spring when out on a walk in the park, my husband and I were surprised by a group of Red-wings swooping down on us. It was a bit startling, and slightly reminiscent of Alfred Hitchcock's "The Birds", but in breeding season it is best to watch that you are not coming too close to their nesting territory. 

The Red-winged Blackbird is omnivorous, the main part of its diet consisting of plant materials, including seeds from weeds and waste grain such as corn and rice, and fruit (blueberries, blackberries) in season, but about a quarter of its diet consists of insects and other small animals, and this amount increases during the breeding season. The Red-wing forages for its preferred food of flies, moths, butterflies and dragon and damsel flies by picking them from plants or catching them in the air; but they will also eat snails, frogs, carrion, worms and spiders. They seem to happily accept seeds, bread  or suet as well.

Caught in the light the feathers on the male Red-wings backs and heads shine an irridescent blue colour.

Red-winged Blackbirds nest in small colonies, the nests are usually built in cattails, rushes, grasses, sedge or in alder or willow bushes. The female builds the nest of grass, sedge, moss and mud bound to grasses or branches above the water where it is well concealed.

Nesting in groups and nesting over water give them some protection from predators. The females and the young, with their brownish colouring, are well camouflaged while in the nest. The males often act as sentinels, and use a number of different calls to alert other birds to danger. Mobbing, especially by males, is also used to scare off unwanted predators, although mobbing often targets large animals, humans and man-made devices by mistake. Case in point, my husband and I taking an innocent stroll by the pond.

Display behavior, probably telling me to get lost!

Well that is the four and twenty blackbirds as promised by the title of this post. Beautiful birds, with a bit of attitude, they are so much a part of the spring sights and sounds around the pond now and through the summer. When out for a walk in the park I make time to stop and watch their antics and listen to their songs; on a warmish Spring day seated on a comfortable bench it is a simple but distinct pleasure.

I have not been around to your blogs as often as I would like recently for two reasons: I have been getting my Mother settled in a new setting after she fell recently resulting in a compound fracture in her lower back and second I have been having more and more trouble seeing, especially the computer screen. My Mum is slowly getting settled in a more supportive setting and I am scheduled to have cataract surgery soon. All good news, so bear with me, I appreciate everyone's support and comments and will get around to visit other sites as much as possible.

Work is progressing somewhat slowly in the studio. Here is the finished  watercolour of  Pink Poppies and below it another "poured" work of Rose hips. I think I will be painting some Red-wings soon, this post has given me inspiration and ideas.




Pink Poppies




Rose Hips


A song, not about Red-winged Blackbirds but Blackbirds, but an old favorite:

Thank you for stopping by, I appreciate your visit, and a special thank you to everyone that takes time to comment. Happy Whimsy Wednesday, until next week...........

Link to Wild Bird Wednesday:

Bark, bark, bark?

Barking up the wrong tree?

This expression undoubtedly comes from watching hunting dogs barking at the base of a tree that they mistakenly think hides their prey. Happily the wily prey has left the tree and escaped in another direction.

It is generally used to mean one is making a mistake or misdirecting one's energies or attention.

The squirrel above is using a different tactic though: that if one stays absolutely still one becomes invisible. It was handy for me because it allowed me to get a good picture.

Bark has many meanings:

It is the sound uttered by a dog, but also a sound such as harsh cough or an abrupt, impatient or angry exclamation. Bark, from old English word beorcan and middle English word Berken, has probably given rise to the expression "His/her bark is worse than his/her bite".

Bark, or barque, (from the Middle English word barke, or Old French word barque for boat) is also a sailing ship with from three to five square rigged masts or a small vessel propelled by oars or sails.

But it is also the tough protective coating on the trunks, branches and roots of trees and other woody plants; the outer bark is mainly dead tissue that protects the tree from heat, cold, insects, and other dangers but also allows the tree to breathe.  This bark is a middle English word from Old Norse word borke.

It is the bark of trees that I am focusing on today, it is not only protective but also offers a wide variety of colours, shapes and textures.

We didn't have a lot of snow this winter (is it too soon to brag about that?) but here I caught a little on a tree in the park.

The spreading arms of a tree on a cool January day.

Bark of a Horse chestnut tree, curling and peeling.

I loved the shapes of this bark and the interesting shadows created by the sunshine.

A beautiful silvery colour, and delicate layers here:

Pine tree with its thick bark and, below, a pinecone (slightly off topic).

This is the puzzle-like bark of a Willow Tree. I see a face in the second one.

The flaky red bark of the Arbutus tree (the tree in front) and another tree "face".

Extracts of bark have been used for traditional medicines and tonics, tanning leather and dyeing fabrics. The strong fibres known as bast can be used for making rope and thin layers of Birch Bark are used for the iconic Canadian Birch bark canoe as well as for shelters. Commercial products such as cork, cinnamon, quinine and aspirin are all bark or made from bark.

This week I started with an old adage about barking up a tree and a picture of a squirrel and will leave you with another of each: 

"Don't keep a dog and bark yourself."

Meaning don't pay someone to do a job and then do it yourself, or interfere to the extent that they can't do the job.

I have been slowly making progress on a painting of poppies; you may recall that I "poured" the background colour. It is quite large, 14" X 21", and is a watercolour. Below is a picture after the "pour" is dry and the masking fluid is removed and then three pictures showing details of parts of it, I hope to have it finished by next week.

I have finished another  watercolour of crocuses too, and am happy with this one:

Thank you for taking the time to visit my blog, and Happy Whimsy Wednesday, until next time ......

Remembering

Remembrance Day or Armistice Day is observed annually since World War 1 on November 11 in Commonwealth countries to  remember the members of their armed forces who have died in the line of duty. The November 11 date was chosen because the official end of World War I was on that date in 1918. The formal end to hostilities was marked at 11 am by the German signing of the Armistice. The 11th hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month is when Remembrance Day Ceremonies are held at War Memorials throughout Commonwealth countries.

The United States honour their military veterans on the November 11 as well with Veterans Day.


Lapel Poppy

The red remembrance poppy is a familiar emblem of Remembrance Day; it has been used since 1920 to commemorate soldiers who have died in war. The use of the poppy was inspired by the First World poem "In Flanders Fields" written by Canadian physician Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, who died in the war.




The opening lines of the poem refer to the many poppies that were the first flowers to grow in the churned-up earth of soldiers' graves in Flanders (a region of Europe that overlies parts of Belgium, France, and the Netherlands.)  The poppies bloomed across some of the worst battlefields of Flanders in World War I, their brilliant red colour an appropriate symbol for the blood spilled in the war.  The horrors of that war and the huge loss of life on both sides (mostly young men sent to their deaths over quagmires left from constant bombardments against the fortified trenches of the other side) are hard to imagine today.



Poppies growing wild at the side of a road



In Flanders Fields by John McCrae:

 "In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place: and in the sky
The larks still bravely singing fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the dead: Short days ago,
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved: and now we lie
In Flanders fields!

Take up our quarrel with the foe
To you, from failing hands, we throw
The torch: be yours to hold it high
If ye break faith with us who die,
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields"

Remembrance Day ceremonies are marked by a period of silence at 11 am, a time for solitary thought.

At this time of year I remember my father who fought in the Second World War. He was in the British Artillery and was captured early in the conflict and spent years in Prisoner of War camps.



My Dad in his uniform

 
He survived, returned to Britain, met and married my mother and raised 6 children. We moved to Canada many years ago.  My father has since passed away.

I remember attending Remembrance Day ceremonies with my family. My father would wear his medals and stand at attention, honouring his fellow soldiers. The ceremony included singing the National Anthem, a tribute to the fallen, the laying of commemorative wreaths and the playing of the Last Post: followed by a 2 minute silence.

The ceremony always seemed to have a piper, with the plaintive sound of the bagpipes. To this day the sound of bagpipes brings to mind standing with my father at the War Memorial. My Dad never talked much about the war, never glorified war and hoped that we would never have to experience such a conflict.  In his time young men did their duty and served their country.  It did not occur to most of them to question what they were doing or why they were doing it.

After the war his family gave him the letter confirming that he was a prisoner of war and where they could send letters to him. He kept his service and pay book as well.

After the war some of his fellow soldiers produced a publication called "Barbed Wire"

This post is dedicated to my father and all the young men and women who have fought to make the world a better place for their children and children's children.

Thank you for visiting my blog, I hope you'll come by again next Wednesday.