The Birds

This ivy covered wall is in our garden, next door's garage forming the boundary to our small back garden. Sitting out in the evening two weeks ago it became apparent that a pair of blackbirds had nested in the trellis and behind the ivy. If you were in a chair too close to the ivy they'd stay away but if you sat further away they'd fly onto the hedge then scoot across to the ivy or roof of the garage and then quickly, when they thought you weren't watching, they'd disappear inside the ivy. A week later they started to appear, the male and the female, in quick rotations, with worms and berries in their beaks and then as soon as they disappeared inside the ivy there would be sound of several small hatchlings chirruping. Seconds later, the adult blackbird would fly out, off for more food and the other one would fly in, more food for the babies. 

I became quite invested in this, the life cycle of a pair of blackbirds happening in our garden and often taking place within a few feet of where I was sitting. I did some reading on blackbirds and their nesting habits: they build their nests typically close to the ground and often inside ivy; male blackbirds are black, female are brown; they mate for life; they often have between 3 and 5 babies which can leave the nest after two weeks, sometimes as early as 9 days. 

There are squirrels in the trees at the back of the garden, sometimes magpies in the area and several cats in the houses around us (although since our next door neighbours moved out, no cat lives next door). Squirrels will eat baby birds and hatchlings. Magpies will do their thing. Cats eat birds for fun. Everything seemed fine until one evening when I was in the kitchen and glanced out of the window I could see and hear the male and female blackbirds in a state of alarm and a cat prowling across our small patch of grass. The cat cleared off over the fence when I went out of the backdoor but things didn't look good. The blackbird couple disappeared for hours and I couldn't hear anything from the nest (I didn't look inside it or want to disturb it). On Tuesday evening I found a small, chubby baby blackbird on the grass, unable to move. The mother re- appeared a few times and tried to feed it but then gave up.  The one on the grass didn't live for long- it couldn't move and was running out of steam. At the back of the garden was the headless body of another of the babies. If there were 2 or 3 other babies from the nest it looked like they'd got away. I hope so anyway. The adults have gone from the garden. Maybe that's the survival rate for blackbirds- a couple from a nest surviving, a couple not making it, and the parents going off and repeating their cycle somewhere else. 

Nature- brutal isn't it? 

In the early 80s LA musician Rick Cuevas self released an album called Symbolism. Copies are very expensive now. The Birds, a song from it, has survived way beyond that private press album, a Yamaha drum machine, a Yamaha synth, an echo unit and some hypnotic, Durutti Column- esque guitar. Beautiful. A song I owe to Andrew Weatherall's much missed Music's Not For Everyone radio shows. 

The Birds

To The Birds was the b-side to Suede's 1992 debut single The Drowners, Bernard Butler's guitars kicking up a shoegaze wall of sound while Brett pleads with an unnamed someone to stick around.

To The Birds

Finally, Aldous Harding, New Zealand folk on 4AD, and a raw, quietly powerful song from 2017 that speaks for itself.

What If The Birds Aren't Singing, They're Screaming