Your writing prompt this week is:
INSPIRATION
I attended the Global Birdfair last week and left feeling completely inspired by all the wonderful speakers, experts, stallholders, volunteers and everyone else involved, who made the three days an absolutely amazing experience. What inspires you? Who inspires you? What do you do if you need inspiration to keep going?
There are other ways to look at the prompt – creativity, flair, imagination and, of course, it also means breathing in.
Fact or fiction, prose or poetry, I would love to read your thoughts on this week’s prompt, but there’s no obligation to share your writing. Here is the work you shared on the last prompt BIRDS.
I like the way those birds can fly,
but I prefer the ground. That’s why
I do not envy wings, though I
would sing the way some do.
On a trip to Miami in the second grade, my grandmother took me to an attraction called Parrot Island where she had to have a photo of me with a parrot on my head and on each of my outstretched little arms… great picture of a terrified kid sobbing… now I have this phobia but not worth spending money on therapy.
National Bird Day is not for me.
I am an ornithophobe, you see.
A granny photo shoot was traumatic
And I became symptomatic
After posing as a parrot tree.
Bird watching had become one of my favorite pastimes, mainly because of the freedom, beauty, and song of birds. I am in awe of birds as they migrate through different seasons. Like winter, for instance, the Cardinals with their stunning red beauty against the pure white snow. The cowbirds sound like a drop of water when they make music. How about the yellow and black finches? They seem like they should be flying around in the tropics, instead of a rural country road. My favorite is the bluebird. It has a distinct orange belly and blue back. The love and care for their mate are obvious. The male brings a mealworm to its female while nesting their eggs.
Nature is wonderful to gaze upon in its glorious presence. Life becomes more beautiful and enduring when watching the birds do what they were created to do.
I’m not an official “birder” but I do like to watch birds, especially near a body of water. The Texas coast has so many observatories. Once of my favorites is at Port Aransas called the Leonabelle Turnbull Birding Center. It has observation decks to watch migratory birds as well as a large walking area, rife with plants native to the Texas coast. It’s like a mini-museum, bird fact posters around the top of the observatory. The place brings visitors and professional photographers looking to spot rare birds. I was there when one such photographer pointed out a rare warbler to me. He said they must be lost as this was not the normal path of their migration. What a cool experience!
Sanny M:
My mum is moving and has been sorting her books and bits out.
She has always loved feeding the birds and looking out for different species.
Whilst having a sort out she found an Observer book of birds which over the years she has marked on each page which birds she’s seen and the dates seem and where she lived or was at the time of seeing them.
It was lovely looking through seeing the different ones she’d spotted over the years and the places she’d seen them. She has now passed it onto my sister for my mum’s great grandsons to enjoy trying to spot them in my sister’s garden.
I am sure in years to come we will cherish seeing her handwritten notes with the boys additions.
Nightmare
Deep in the night,
Blackbirds take flight.
They give you a fright,
From dark to daylight.
With morning sunrise,
You open your eyes.
You find it’s all lies,
Yet, you still hear their cries.
New day it still brings,
The flapping of wings.
The nightmare, it clings,
In your mind it still stings.
The worry and wonder,
No more will you blunder.
You must put asunder,
This spell you are under.
Birds give us in sight,
Into the health of our Earth . . .
Watch them carefully.
Dream
“Every night is the same dream. I walk outside into a cloudy blue sky day. Then I hear their piercing cacophony and turn towards it. As I look at them, they go silent. One by one, they glide down and land near my feet, until every one has formed a circle around me. The largest of them all, a crow among starlings, walks up through the circle to stand in front of me. She cocks her head, regards me with her baleful black marble, and caws a single note. Feathers rise as one as their razor sharp beaks pierce my flesh. I wake up sweaty and petrified.”
“Miss Gee, I understand how real it seems. We will be working together to see what it means. Please, try to remember it is only a dream. It isn’t real.”
I pull my sleeve up to show Dr. Tee the bandages on my arm.
“Are you sure?”
I miss watching the birds that visited our garden when we lived in the cottage. We had finches of all descriptions, blackbirds, robins, sparrows (even a white one!), even a couple of ducks decided to take a breather under our apple tree!
We don’t get so many here apart from starlings which flood our lawn back and front, then take off like a black wave when disturbed.
This picture was taken on the prom in 2021, and the noise!!!
We do have a pair of robins and a family of blackbirds visit though, and it we’re lucky, a fieldfare or two.
We’ve had a couple of kestrels, and chased off a sparrowhawk when it attacked a female blackbird that we knew had young nearby. The blackbird got away minus a couple of feathers, and the sparrowhawk went hungry.
On the boat, each summer we waited eagerly for sightings of swallows. It was wonderful to watch them dip and dive along the water’s surface. So many all in one place, it made you feel humble when you think of the distances they travel when they migrate.
My favourite pictures of birds are these taken in April 2016:
This little chap came and perched on the boat 2 berths down from us and I had just treated myself to a new digital camera with a decent zoom on it.
Kingfishers are so fast and elusive. On the river I never managed to get a decent photo.
I don’t have a favorite bird. My dad was into birdwatching for a while and kept a book on his screened porch. He can still identify just about anything that flies into his yard – which is certainly more than I can do.
We gather near the same fire, drawn by warmth and shared smoke. Our laughter sounds familiar, echoes of each other, as if one soul split itself into many bodies just to be understood.
Like birds, we move in groups, invisible strings tying wrist to wrist, habits to hearts, songs we all somehow know the chorus to.
One believes, the others echo. One fears, the rest retreat. The comfort of commonness can be louder than truth.
We dress alike without meaning to, repeat phrases like passwords, sit at the same tables, even when the chairs pinch.
Difference stands at the edge — noticed, but not invited. Sometimes it imitates flight just to be allowed to land.
Among birds, safety is flight in formation. Among humans, it’s approval wrapped in a smile. Flocking feels like belonging until someone wants to turn against the wind.
Uncaged
every time you say goodbye,
i love you a little less.
and every tear you make me cry
hurts less than the rest.
so don’t be surprised
if one day i slip away—
quiet as the wind,
tired of being told to stay.
like a caged bird
that forgot how to sing,
i’ll find the sky again
on tired but growing wings.
freedom will not ask permission.
freedom just becomes.
Morning hush broken—
songbirds stitch light through the still
threads of waking air.
I lean close to the window,
heart tuned to their quiet joy.
swallows vultures
puffins crows
spoonbills chew
*
Swallowing Seagulls
Larking Birds of Paradise
Crowing Cormorants
Lone Bird at Dawn (shadorma)
Fisherman
Forages alone
Spindly legs
Planted deep
Resisting strong morning tide’s
Attempts to sweep clean
California gull
Larus calforincus
Hopeful omnivores
***
Esther Chilton 
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