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Overview
From crowded train stations to quiet woods and from city centres to our own back gardens, birds remind us that nature is everywhere. But do you know which is the king of the birds? Has anyone ever told you how the brave swallow got its forked tail? And what of the owl, who was really a baker's daughter?
Take a look inside The Magpie's Nest, where a hoard of stories, riddles and rhymes is waiting for you.
Suitable for all ages and charmingly illustrated by Lakeland artist Becca Hall, this is an essential collection of stories for all who love the natural world.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780750991803 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | The History Press |
| Publication date: | 06/03/2019 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 128 |
| File size: | 9 MB |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
THE WREN
The dove says, 'Coo, coo What shall I do? I can scarce bring up two.'
'Fie, Fie!' Says the wren 'I have got ten And keep them all like gentlemen.' (Anon.)
The Wren, King of the Birds
This tale is quite a chestnut, but like so many such traditional, well or partially remembered stories, never fails to please. In telling, I usually reference the nearest high landmark, for example, in Lancashire, Pendle Hill, in London, Primrose Hill, and so on. Helm Crag in Grasmere, with its rock outcrops known as the Lion, the Lamb and the Old Lady playing the piano, lends itself well to the tale, particularly as, at one time, a pair of golden eagles had their nest on High Street on the slopes of Helvellyn, less than 5 miles from Helm Crag as the eagle flies.
A fine variant of this story can be found on the Isle of Man and, to this day both there and in Ireland, you can find the tradition of the Wren Boys, singing and begging on the day after Christmas Day, St Stephen's Day.
The wren, the wren, King of all birds St Stephen's Day was caught in the furze Though he is small, his family is many We pray you, good people to give us a penny.
* * *
It wasn't in your time, it wasn't in my time, but it was in somebody's time, all the birds of the air gathered on top of a great mountain. The sky was black with birds.
They wanted to settle once and for all which of them was King. Perhaps it should be the cleverest or the most handsome. You can only imagine the crowing, the squawking and the scolding as each protested its superiority over the others.
The rook, the raven, the jackdaw and the crow shone black, others showed brighter plumage. On a rock, arrogantly believing himself to be above all of them, was the golden eagle; he couldn't help boasting and posing.
On the signal from the owl, or as we say in Lakeland, the hullet, each bird took it in turn to tell of their abilities and their worth.
The goldfinch spread her bright feathers; forktail the swallow told of his swiftness and travels to far southern climes; the thrush opened her beak allowing her beautiful song to soar skyward and all who heard thought she must surely win; then the jackdaw and the magpie started squabbling about which was the best thief; little Jenny Wren hopped forward to show her worth, but no-one noticed as she seemed so small and insignificant. Indeed it was even as she was saying her piece:
Small though I am and slender my leg Twelve chicks I can bring out of the egg
That the golden eagle pushed in front of her, loudly proclaiming that the best bird on the wing should be the one to be the king.
All agreed that this would be a good idea and, before anyone could challenge the decision, the hullet hooted and they all took to the air.
Of course, the golden eagle was out in front followed by the swallow, then the big black birds, the rook, the raven, the jackdaw and the crow. Then came the chattering magpies calling,
One for sorrow Two for joy Three for a girl Four for a boy Five for silver Six for gold And seven for a story that has to be told.
(Some people say 'a secret never to be told', perhaps you shouldn't tell secrets, but you should tell stories!)
The golden eagle soared higher and higher towards the sun until he couldn't lift another feather. Looking down on all the other birds beneath him, he called out that he was truly King of the Birds.
However he was in for a shock. Jenny Wren had been sharper than him and got one over him. She had taken tight hold of a feather under his great wing and hidden herself. As he started to tire, she flew out on top of his head calling out that she was above him.
The golden eagle dropped down to land and the wren dropped down breathless behind him. But she was King of the Birds. All the other birds agreed that although she may be the smallest in size, she was the biggest in wit.
But just remember:
Wren Song
The Wren, the Wren is King of the Birds St Stephen's Day she was stuck in the furze Although she was little, her wit it was great If you boast like an eagle, you might share his fate.
CHAPTER 2THE COCKEREL
The cock crows in the morning to tell us to rise And he that lies late will never be wise For early to bed and early to rise Is the way to be healthy and wealthy and wise (Anon.)
The Sun, the Moon and the Cockerel
All three protagonists in this tale affect the shape and structure of our lives.
Chanticleer, nature's alarm call, helps us to mark the start of our day: I think everyone could come up with a time when a cock crow was significant. Jesus Christ used this sound to mark the moment that Peter, his closest disciple, would deny him.
This tale has an interesting take on the relationship between this spectacular fowl and these two heavenly bodies, and indeed is a type of creation myth.
During the most recent total eclipse of the Sun I found myself in Cornwall for a better viewing of this once-in-a-lifetime experience. When the Moon completed its transition across the Sun, and light returned to the Earth, all the cockerels in Cornwall crowed for the second time that day. The bard William Shakespeare, in Hamlet, saw significance in the cockerel crowing other than to greet the day:
Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated The bird of dawning singeth all night long; And then they say, no spirit can walk abroad; The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike No fairy takes; nor witch hath power to charm; So hallowed and so gracious is the time. (William Shakespeare)
Following this tale are two short stories also concerned with the significance of the cock crow and which link to this first one, as without it they couldn't exist.
* * *
In times long past, strange though it may seem, there were three friends – the Sun, the Moon and the cockerel. They lived in the sky. The three friends lived happily together even though they were very different. The cockerel and his older friend, the Sun, were very hard working, but the Moon was lazy.
One day, the Sun went off to work, leaving the cockerel and the Moon to do the work around the house. At the end of the day the lazy Moon, who hadn't helped all day, told the cockerel to bring the cattle in from the fields. The cockerel, on this occasion, was just too tired after working so hard on his own all day and refused to go, annoyed at the thought of the Moon ordering him to do yet another task. In a temper, and having no wish to go himself, the lazy Moon grabbed the cockerel by the comb, turning it blood red, and threw him from the sky to the earth.
When the Sun returned from his work, he couldn't see his younger friend the cockerel anywhere and asked the Moon where their friend was. The Moon told him what had happened between himself and the cockerel, expecting the Sun to sympathise, but instead the Sun became angry. He told the Moon that if he couldn't live in harmony with his friends then he had no wish to live with him anymore.
The Sun declared that, from that day on, the day would belong to him and the Moon would own the night. The cockerel, who had been driven from his home, had no wish to share his time with his old friend the Moon any more. At sunrise though, he would always be happy to greet his old friend the Sun and would crow a lively 'cock-a-doodle-doo'. Then as soon as the Sun dipped behind the horizon and the Moon appeared in the night sky, the cockerel would hide and sleep.
And so, it is to this day that as soon as the Sun rises the cock is happy to greet him, but as soon as the Moon comes out at night the cockerel quickly runs and hides from the friend he no longer loves.
Cock Crow
Now we have learned why the cockerel crows each day to welcome his friend the sun.
This little tale was told to me as one of those genre of humorous tales so often shared and enjoyed by country folk. It was gifted to me by Weardale storyteller Maude Coulthard at a Methodist tea in 1991, the year when I was working as the North Pennine storyteller in residence.
The verse that introduces it came from Dartmoor farmer Charlie Hill:
Every morning, every morning, everything is quite alright I don't need a knocker up, I don't need a clock For underneath my window is my old game cock Every morning every morning I never oversleep, it's true Out I go when the cock begins to crow Cock, cock, cock-a-doodle-doo.
* * *
It was a time of worry and austerity in the farming industry. A crusty old Dales farmer decided it was time to downsize and cash in his chips. Selling much of his land to surrounding farms, he was left with about fifty acres, including the farmhouse which had been home to his father, his grandfather and himself. He also kept the old barn for his poultry and the farming equipment he still needed. With so little land, he no longer needed a farmhand. He was now a one-man band. This meant he could put the labourer's cottage next to the barn on the market.
As chance would have it, a young city banker and his wife, wealthy beyond their age, were looking for a retreat as a home in the country. They were a couple of 'blowins' who had never lived anywhere but the city. Not knowing what to expect, they moved in and immediately started to try to make the quaint old place resemble a trendy town house.
As if the move hadn't been difficult enough, whilst still in their beds, at 6 a.m. on their first morning in their new home, they were rudely awakened by a trumpeted 'cock-a-doodle-doo' from the cockerel in the nearby barn. Furious, the young man leapt out of his bed straight into his brand new green wellies to complain to the farmer. He immediately fell on his face for the new wellington boots were still joined together by a small piece of string! Sorting himself out, and encouraged by his grumpy wife, he stormed round to the farmer, who had long since got up and breakfasted in preparation for the day's work. Listening to the newcomer's complaint, the farmer merely smiled, telling the man that the cockerel had been there for years before they had moved in. Blushing and disgruntled, the newcomer returned to his wife, telling her he'd had a word with the farmer and that it had been sorted.
The following morning the cockerel once again noisily woke the young couple at 6 a.m. with his crowing. The young man headed back to the farmer who again pointed out that in the young man's relationship with the bird, the cockerel was the senior partner!
The young man could only return home to try and convince his wife that he'd sorted the problem.
On the third morning, the noisy bird again woke them both, but this time at 5 a.m. Red with rage and embarrassment, the young man stormed round to the farmer. He soon triumphantly returned to tell his wife he'd finally sorted the problem as he'd bought the bird from the farmer and as they owned it, it could now keep the farmer awake!
A Tale of Two Roosters
This tale is still told in Italy. I know that, for that is where the author heard it.
* * *
The cities of Sienna and Florence are about a hundred miles apart. These days the inhabitants of these great cities co-exist happily, but it was not always so.
Eight hundred years ago when the Medicis ruled, they were engaged in a border dispute. Each wanted to win a little more territory and gain a little more land by extending their border.
The rulers of each great city decided to solve this problem with a horse race. On a given day at dawn a rider would set out from Sienna towards Florence and a rider from Florence towards Sienna. The point where the two met and crossed would be the final position of the border. Like with any race, the key to success would be a good start. Whoever achieved this would probably manage to ride the farthest. In those days the alarm clock was, of course, a cock crow.
The folk of Sienna chose a white rooster and fed it well, thinking this might give it energy to wake early. This was not a good move, for creatures who have been well fed often sleep deeply and for a long time.
The folk of Florence were a little craftier, and choosing a black lean rooster they starved him. Sure enough the black rooster woke at first light, and desperate for food crowed long and loud. This woke the rider, who mounted his horse and started to ride like the wind.
A little later in Sienna the white rooster dragged itself from the deepest of sleeps and managed some slightly less enthusiastic crowing. Now both horsemen were mounted and riding. The race was on.
The rider from Sienna was only 7 or 8 miles into his ride when the rider from Florence who had started earlier, thanks to the help of the black rooster, met up with him. This gained the people of Florence a substantial increase in the amount of land they controlled. As luck would have it, this land provided the perfect soil for growing the Sangiovese grape, the main ingredient of the famous Chianti wine.
The folk of that part of Tuscany spent many days celebrating and adopted the black rooster as their official emblem, and, to this day, on bottles of Chianti Classico you can find a picture of the proud little black rooster. And all of this was made possible by the cock crow, nature's morning alarm.
CHAPTER 3THE MAGPIE
A Riddle
As white as milk, but not milk As soft as silk, but not silk As black as coal, but not coal And hops around like a filly foal.
The Magpie's Nest
All the creatures on this planet, animal, reptile or bird, find it hard to survive if they are homeless and have nowhere safe to give birth to their young. Squirrels have their dreys, little more than a rough pile of sticks, rabbits have their warrens and badgers their sets. However, there was a time when most varieties of birds went without a home. Indeed some seabirds lived most or even the whole of their lives on the wing. The only bird that really knew how to build a nest was the avian civil engineer that is the magpie.
* * *
There was an old man with a beard Who said, 'It is just as I feared, Two owls and a hen, Four larks and a wren, Have all built their nests in my beard.' (Anon.)
It was a long time ago, when birds built their nests in old men's beards. Many of the other birds were envious of the clever magpie's nest-building skill and wished to learn from him.
The day came when the magpie sat on the edge of his nest and called all the other birds to fly in, stand around, watch and learn. First of all, the magpie scooped up several beakfuls of thick wet mud and shaped it into a round bowl shape, using his skill and experience. The thrush thought that was how it was done and needed to waste no more time. It flew away without even a 'thank you' and that is how thrushes have made their nests ever since that day.
The magpie then collected a beakful of twigs and arranged them around the mud. The blackbird liked the look of this combination of mud and twigs and also thought he knew it all, so flew off to build its nest.
Next the magpie collected another beakful of mud and pressed it over the twigs. The wise old owl studied this more complex structure, thought it fine, and away it flew. Owls have never changed their way of making their nests since then.
The magpie, taking a few more twigs, roughly twined them around the outside. The sparrow thought that would do for him and flitted off. Sparrows have made rather slapdash nests since that day.
Collecting some feathers from the ground and tufts of sheep's wool from the fence, the magpie then carefully lined her nest. The starling thought this idea made the nest very comfortable and did the same. Perhaps starlings have the most comfortable nests to this day!
Every bird took a little knowledge from the magpie before flying away to fashion their own nests, each slightly different, but none waiting until the end. Few of them even stopped to thank the magpie, whilst she kept on building without even looking up to notice the one remaining bird, a turtle dove. The dove had long since got bored and had paid no attention all along, so as the magpie tried to show it to place one stick across the nest the impatient dove kept cooing, 'Take two, Taffy, take two'.
Grumpily the magpie retorted, 'One's enough'.
The dove only kept on repeating, 'Take two, Taffy, take two'.
Despite the magpie snapping back, 'One's enough, I tell you,' the dove repeated her call over and over again, driving the magpie to distraction; so much so that she flew away and refused to tell the birds how to build their nests ever again. That is why different birds build their nests in their own way and why doves and pigeons repeatedly say, 'Take two, Taffy, take two,' whilst standing on nests that are little more than a scruffy pile of twigs.
The Magpie and the Fox
As soon as the magpie had finished tutoring all the other birds in the techniques of nest building, it could return to the activities for which it is best known: those of thieving and making mischief.
On one such day it went to do this with the strangest of accomplices, one also known for mischief, the legend that is 'Old Daddy Fox'.
* * *
The magpie and her friend, the fox, were naughty; in short they liked to go thieving together. One day these two rogues were on the Kings Highway when they spotted a woman carrying a basket of butter and eggs. How could they steal it? The magpie flew into the woman's face and pecked her nose.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "The Magpie's Nest"
by .
Copyright © 2019 Taffy Thomas MBE.
Excerpted by permission of The History Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
About the author,
About the illustrator,
Acknowledgements,
Foreword,
Introduction,
1. The Wren,
2. The Cockerel,
3. The Magpie,
4. The Blackbird,
5. The Crow,
6. The Nightingale,
7. The Skylark,
8. When Birds Gather,
9. The Robin,
10. The Heron,
11. The Swallow,
12. The Snipe,
13. The Curlew,
14. The Cuckoo,
15. The Pigeon,
16. The Swan,
17. The Woodpecker,
18. The Owl,
Epilogue,
Riddle Answers,
Two Short Rhyme,