 |
| grackle, expounding |
A cowbird and grackle were in disagreement
over a definition of terms.
Astride a dead sparrow, its small breast pierced,
the grackle explained this action
in terms of disbursement of seeds.
The cowbird objected, arguing that the grackle
was a cheat, ending a life
already in progress and pointed to the ashen sparrow,
non-renewable, lying still
as a stone and twice as useless.
Don't get holy with me cowbird, scoffed the grackle.
You're nothing but a flim-flam bird
and a deadbeat parent, letting the other raise your brood
by knocking the originals
out of the nest like so many shucked hulls.
Murderer! they both cried, each to the other with scorn.
The grackle strutted about,
proud and righteous, while the cowbird sang the faux
river in its throat,
that beautiful false flow from which none may drink.
I saw all this from my window, an avian stage play
with knives and subterfuge.
All day until dusk I turned over the problem of who
was in the right, but was interrupted
by a million starlings screaming for either, or both,
or just to hear their own voices in cacophony as the
weary sun gave up the yard to shadows and moonlight.
________
for Word Garden Word List--Richard Wilbur.
The cowbird leaves its eggs in other birds' nests; the hatchlings shove the parent bird's eggs out and run the parent ragged feeding the cowbird chicks who are often much larger than the bird's own chicks would have been. Also, the adult cowbird can make a sound that sounds like gurgling water. You can hear it here:
As for the grackle, they are sometimes bad neighbors at the feeder, stabbing smaller birds with their beaks or raiding other birds' nests and killing the babies. They don't always do this, but sometimes they do. I have been feeding the birds for over 20 years and there have only been one or two years when the grackles were like that, but when they are, they're relentless.
This actually reads like a satire on US politics these days. It is very very clever and I enjoyed the behaviours, especially the grackle strutting about all self-righteous, while the cowbird sang the faux river in its throat. Wow, what a poem from a look out your window! I love that you feed birds. I always did - but in this place they discourage it so as not to attract rats.
ReplyDeleteSuch an immersive poem - you really transported me into the world of birds..and I wasn't sure what a grackle was so thank you! I love how you were transported into their day and allowed us to come with you - Jae
ReplyDeleteIt's a dog eat dog world out there, or in this case bird v bird. What a fascinating show they put on and you told it marvelously. Over the years my boys read a lot of nature books, especially about sharks and wolves. I could easily see this poem in one of them about the habits of birds which would keep kids and adults alike engrossed.
ReplyDeleteSounds like a perfect reflection on politicians. There's always finger pointing without finding workable resolutions. Plus there is so much harm caused by all of it. I also have bird feeders and have watched the different scenarios play out. There are always crows in the woods behind the fence. They are always stating their opinions.
ReplyDeleteA very lively metaphor at work here on the age-old blame-game, and the inherent viciousness that can surface from that mostly hidden pool of fears and competitions laying in the depths of all nature which pretends to be about survival but is actually about dominance. Which I suppose is partly the same thing. Like so many things, survival at the price of the cruel means it uses to its end can be highly overrated. I especially like the fourth stanza with its timeless and exquisite end lines. That gurgling sound is like an echo from the well of life, even as the thing which produces it falls so short. Fine work, Shay.
ReplyDeleteSad to think that birds are a lot like us humans in this fallen world! I loved the gurgling flow, if I may, of this avian poem, filled with life's discord that continues unabated as if eternal and then its cessation as if finally meaningless, the starlings lending that final punctuation to the nihilistic note (for me anyways). As always, a triumph of poetic expression, Shay.
ReplyDeleteMuch depth and even more imagery. This is really thought provoking poetry. Great poem.
ReplyDeletePolitical birds! Who would have guessed? Excellent, Shay.
ReplyDeleteIndeed! Who is righter? Maybe the starlings know.
ReplyDeleteYour deeper story going on here is clear and brilliant Shay! I love all your information at the end about the birds too! Simply wonderful as always to visit your blog!
ReplyDelete