Blackbird Morning

Where be a blackbird to?
I know where he be
He be up yon Wurzel tree and I be after 'ee
Now I sees 'ee and 'ee sees I
Bugger'd if I don't get him
With a girt big stick I'll knock 'im down
Blackbird I'll 'ave 'ee

That's a little ditty by the Wurzels, sung in a heavy West Country (specifically, Bristolian) accent. We used to sing it in the car, on driving trips round the Cotswolds and to Bath Spa or the Forest of Dean and in rural Ireland or--well, pretty much everywhere.

Now it's running in an endless loop through my brain.

No, I didn't see a blackbird in a wurzel tree. But I did see two black birds this morning.

I spotted a raven in one of our big beech trees.



In the photo he looks more like a common crow--it doesn't show his unmistakable bumpy-forehead raven profile. His soaring flight and broad wingspan were also clues to his identity.

A moment later, a common grackle landed on a birch sapling. The sun striking his chest revealed that amazing iridescent blue.



Also in the treetops, scaling the giant hemlock, a chipmunk.