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ninbayphua-moyan · 3 years ago

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Where The Harvest Moon Is Brightest

Sweat trickled down my back as I lugged my suitcase behind me along the five-foot ways of Penang. A sense of Saturday afternoon languidness hangs in the balmy air like a soft, heavy blanket, lulling you to sleep. A gentle breeze fleets through the walkway, pleasantly cool against the slight stickiness of my skin. I paused and took a deep breath, head tilted back with eyes closed, listening to the faint rustling of palm leaves. The air was steeped with the fresh, earthy petrichor of a recent shower, and tinged with undertones of the alluringly sweet scent of frangipanis.

Loud giggles. Shrieks of laughter. Opening my eyes, I turned towards the sound and saw a group of children playing a game of ‘The Eagle Catches The Chicks’ on the street. They dodged and ran with unabashedly childish grins plastered onto their mud smeared faces, eyes twinkling with youthful glee and carelessness. I smiled. It wasn’t that long ago when I too was a little rascal playing on these very streets without a care in the world. I remember the days when the neighbourhood kids and I would play in the streets until our mothers called us in for dinner. Oh, the adventures we had! Climbing up trees; playing in the rain; racing the roti man down the street as he rides by on his bicycle. Ah yes……the roti man……how we used to wait for him to make his rounds each evening after school……The tinkling sound of the metal cup-like object being struck with an iron rod signalling his arrival…our short legs running, shouting ‘roti!’ until he stopped by the side of the road…the chaos that ensues as we crowded around him like hungry chicks waiting to be fed, coins held tight in our sweaty little palms……

Then, I heard it. The familiar ‘Ting! Ting! Ting!’ of the roti man echoing down the street, as if summoned by my reminiscence of it. The children had heard it too. They ran towards the roti man shouting ‘roti!’, their game abandoned without a second thought. Instinctively, I started running as well, fumbling around my pockets looking for loose change to pay for the bread. I joined the little gathering crowd just as the roti man was getting off his bicycle. A tantalising aroma of freshly baked breads and buns wafted out the minute he undid the catch on the little glass framed doors of the meat-safe seated behind his bike. I couldn’t help but groan internally at the heavenly sight and smell. I watched as he slathered the savoury margarine and rich kaya onto thick slices of roti benggali, mouth watering uncontrollably. After a few minutes, he handed me a big bag of the bread to me and I dropped the money into his outstretched palm. He flashed me a quick grin before returning his attention to the next customer.

Making my way back to the five-foot way, I stuck my hand into the plastic bag and brought out a piece of warm roti banggali. Biting into the bread, I felt my tongue melting. The crispy, golden crust and soft white crumb of the bread served as a fragrant base, a sacred chapel where the buttery saltiness of the margarine and the rich, creamy sweetness of the kaya sang, each in their unique tune before harmonizing into a heavenly choir and melding into one savoury mouthful of bread. Before I knew it, I had already finished a third of what I’d bought. Realising that I wouldn’t have any left by the time I reached my destination if I continued eating, I quickly knotted up the bag and hurried along.

Ten minutes later, I came to a stop in front of a shophouse at the end of the five-foot way. A large ebony plaque hung regally above the doorway, my family name engraved upon it in golden Chinese characters. U-shaped terracotta tiles covered the roof and three full length louvred windows lined the upper floor of the two-story building. The pillars were adorned with painted, three-dimensional decorative plaster of beautifully crafted flowers. Majestic peonies and tender lotuses blooming, their elaborate and delicate carved petals unfurling elegantly. Majolica tiles lined the dado façade on the lower quarter of the walls, adding yet another splash of colour to the otherwise, dull and plain exterior. The carved timber ventilated doors stood wide open, each of its panel depicting legendary creatures of ancient Chinese folklore. The exquisitely detailed carvings of phoenixes never ceased to amaze me, even after all this time. Perching nobly on golden branches, their wings were spread wide as if to take off at any second as I gazed, entranced. Then, as the late afternoon sun shines upon their gilded bodies, it was as if those carved mystical beauties were suddenly brought to life. Their once dull sheen now aglow in brilliant shades of scarlet, orange and gold, almost as if they would burst into flames at any moment, just like in the myths of old, and be reborn from the ashes.

The sound of fluttering wings and clear melodic chirruping snapped me out of my daze. Looking up, I saw a family of swallows roosting in their nest at the corner of the roof. Ah…it was that time of the year again wasn’t it…the swallows always left the nest as the harvest moon approached. I remember how excited I used to get when they came to roost in the spring and how sad I would be when they’d left as autumn drew near. A-Poh[1] would always pick the nest once the swallows had flown, clean it and turn it into a bowl bird nest soup. She always told me it was good for the skin as well as health but I was never sure how true these claims were.

Peeking my head through the door, I announced my arrival home out of sheer force of habit. There was a loud clanging and scuffling from the kitchen as I heard a delighted shout. I had barely stepped across the threshold into the house before I was pulled into a tight bear hug by A-Poh, immediately enveloped by the familiar scent of incense and rice powder. She was strong despite her age and sometimes I couldn’t help but wonder if all her stories about bird nest soup were true. Pulling out of the hug, she gave me a quick look over and pinched my cheeks, complaining that I’ve lost weight again even though I hadn’t. I tried protesting but she shushed me with a fond pat on the cheeks and shouted for A-Gong[2] who instantly came wobbling out of the ground floor bedroom, a large toothless grin on his wrinkled face. He wrapped me into a warm hug whilst A-Poh hurried off into the kitchen, determined to stuff me up with food before anyone could stop her. I shook my head in resignation whilst A-Gong just laughed and ruffled my hair, amused.

Pouring some pu-erh tea into two clay teacups, A-Gong motioned for me to sit down, asking about my time abroad. As we sipped on the earthy fragrance of the pu-erh, I told him about my time in the UK; about its miserably wet weather; its tasteless food; its strange customs; and how much I had missed home whilst I was away. Upon hearing that comment, he chuckled heartily, a knowing look in his eyes. He too had left the comforts at home at a young age, sailing the seas to unknown lands to avoid the war. When I asked if he ever missed Hainan and his childhood home, he would always smile a little wistfully but would then shake his head saying home for him was where my A-Poh, a content look upon his wisen face. Even after all this time, they were still as in love with one another as they were back then, just like the butterfly lovers from Chinese folklore.

Halfway through our conversation, he suddenly stood up as if he had just remembered something. Giving me a wink, he disappeared out the door. I grinned, knowing exactly where he was headed off to. As I sat by the round wooden table in the living room, I gaze absentmindedly at the sparrows fleeting about A-Gong’s potted plants. The afternoon sunlight was streaming in through the lightwell, brightening the otherwise dimly lit interior. I remember still how my siblings and I would play hide-and-seek in the interior courtyard amongst those potted plants. Ah, those really were the days……

Shifting my gaze, my eyes were immediately drawn to the majolica tile floor. Its kaleidoscope of bright colours a stark contrast against the plain wooden and rattan furniture. Come to think about it, those mosaic pattered tiles were probably what triggered my interest in art in the first place…oh, the afternoons I’d spend on those cool, smooth floor drawing and trying to mimic their intricate patterns and colours…..

I was brought out of my reminiscence when a bowl of steaming hot pork dumplings was placed before me. Ahh…A-Poh’s pork dumplings. How I’ve missed it while I was away! Eagerly, I picked up the chopsticks and took a bite, my mouth immediately exploding with flavour. The saltiness of the pork meat marinated with soy sauce and sesame oil, the refreshingly sweet spring onions contrasting the meat’s saltiness, the delicately wrapped flour encapsulating it all, the slight bitterness of the herbal broth…this was my definition of heaven. Seeing me happily wolfing down the dumplings, she smiled and returned to the kitchen.

I was only halfway through my bowl of dumplings when the intense aroma of spices and chili came wafting out of the kitchen, making my mouth water. There wasn’t a need to look. I already knew what it was A-Poh was preparing. And sure enough, she came tottering out of the kitchen a few minutes later with two big bowls of hokkien-mee. Taking a seat next to me and we both dug in. I took a big slurp of soup and my tongue was instantly set on fire, the spices clashing as they performed a tango on my tongue. I had forgotten how potent the chili at home were. My lips were turning a numbing red within seconds but that didn’t stop me from downing down the entire bowl of noodles. After all, no self-respecting child of Penang would ever be caught dead bested by a bowl of spicy hokkien-mee. A-Poh chuckled as she watched me switching comically between fanning my tongue and slurping down the spicy soup.

Just then, A-Gong came walking in through the front door and I squealed in delight. He grinned, handing me the little plastic bag in his hands before sitting down. Like a child who was just given her Christmas present early, I happily started munching on the packet of ais kacang. The frozen sweetness of the shaved ice instantly cooled my burning mouth and I quickly took a few more mouthful. Content, I glanced at my grandparents and started noticing things that had previously escaped my attention. A-Poh’s once salt-and-pepper hair was now silvery white and her hands seemed more worn and wrinkled than I last remembered. The wrinkles on A-Gong’s face seemed deeper now and his hands, especially the one with a missing finger, shook a little more than they used to whenever he held something. Since when had they aged so much?

Realising that I had stopped eating, A-Gong pushed the plate of pandan cake closer to me, urging me to eat. Now, I was never much of a sweet tooth but I was particularly fond of this green coloured sponge cake that just melted in your mouth like a piece of cloud. The mild, aromatic sweetness of pandan and the light, fluffy texture of a chiffon cake, a beautiful fusion between European cake-making techniques and locally grown ingredients.

As I continued munching on the cake, I couldn’t help but smile, having realized how beautifully diverse my hometown was. Just like the pandan cake, it was a place where cultures of the East and West collided and coexisted in harmony. Yes…this little culture cocktail of an island was what I called home and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

NOTES:

[1] ‘A-Poh’ means ‘grandmother’ in Hainanese

[2] ‘A-Gong’ means ‘grandfather’ in Hainanese

[3] ‘Where The Harvest Moon Shines Brightest’ is a play on 月到中秋分外明，每逢佳节倍思亲 meaning the moon is brightest in mid-autumn; homesickness multiplies during each festival

Author's Notes:

Back with Part 4 also known as the final part of the short story slash prose pieces from uni series (this was the earliest piece I wrote in first year lol). The story takes place a year and a half after Part 3. A-Yun has finally graduated uni and has now gone home. All is well ends well. Yes I am aware that there is a slight glitch and A-Gong shouldn’t exist at this point but I wrote it before I wrote everything else so we’re bringing him back to life OuO Anyways, I hope you enjoyed reading Part 4~

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Since exams are over and graded and I've officially graduated, I can finally post my work online without having to worry about Turnitin picking it up as plagiarism because apparently you aren't allowed to plagiarise yourself according to university which is absolutely ridiculous but I'm not the one making the rules here so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Also, please don't reupload my works without permission.

#ninbayphua 墨彦 #prose #short story #constructive critisms are always welcomed #please don't repost without permission

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ragewrites · 5 years ago

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my green hill, I will lie here with you until the Horn of Summer sounds, summoning serpents from the sun, and Gabriel has come to claim me as his lily — I will lie here with you, head buried in the swollen well and I will dream my soothing dreams, filling the hours seam to seam with such resplendent gardens, with your hands which come and go from me like sparrows, never too far and singing always in the underbrush, dark praise that makes the blood dusk, that makes me redden to honeys richer still and even then even as Eden turns to spun glass even as strange ones learn our taste, reveal the blood in my arched throat, in your kind eyes, their colours sistered in fever — even as all is made again mere clay I of the waters I your woman will dream you soothing dreams and hold your heart to mine, in moss and in rich soil until you, too, o loved bed of mine are dreaming tender

vows february 1st, 2020 / / lianna schreiber

#spilled ink #writers on tumblr #poets on tumblr #poetry #poem #free verse #freeverse #freeform #free form #inkstain #quotidie #2020

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eldritchsurveys · 4 years ago

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1046.

Do you ever find yourself worrying about things that probably won't happen? >> The thing is, the things I worry about are things that can happen. I know because I’ve already experienced those things happening. It’s the likelihood of the thing happening that may or may not be skewed in my imagination, not the thing itself.

Has your imagination ever made it hard for you to sleep? >> I don’t think so.

Have you ever had a weird dream and obsessed over what it might mean? >> I’ve had plenty of weird dreams, but I didn’t obsess over their possible meaning.

Or do you usually forget about your dreams? >> Nowadays, yeah, I don’t remember my dreams too consistently.

Do you know your heritage? If not, would you ever try one of those DNA kits? >> I know enough, I suppose. I would definitely not do one of those DNA kits, for multiple reasons.

Which languages can you speak? >> Only English with any fluency.

Which language do you speak the most and why? >> ---

Which languages do you wish you were fluent in? >> ---

With films in languages you do not speak, do you prefer a dub or subtitles? >> I greatly prefer subs. I like listening to different languages. Plus, I find that a lot of the times, the dub actors don’t match up well in my opinion.

Which cuisine do you like the least? >> ---

Are there any foods you dislike because of the texture? >> Absolutely.

Which type of chocolate do you like best? >> I only eat dark chocolate.

Do you have a favorite kind of dog? >> Pit bulls, I guess, but I really just like dogs period.

Do you let your pets sleep in your bed? >> I would not.

Do any of your favorite musicians ever write music for/with other artists? >> I mean, probably.

What is your favorite collaboration between two different musicians? >> I can’t think of a favourite collaboration.

Who are your favorite songwriters? >> I don’t have any.

Do you like any of those oldies groups (like the Four Seasons)? >> Yep. I grew up listening to them and I still love a lot of that music.

Do you know who Bernie Taupin is? >> He writes with Elton John, don’t he? They’re associated somehow, anyway.

What are your favorite one-hit wonders? >> Meh.

What celebrities, if any, have you seen naked? >> I mean, whichever ones did nude scenes in movies I’ve seen.

Have you ever seen anybody naked by accident? >> Not necessarily by accident, just... not by my consent. Living in shelters, you see a lot you don’t necessarily want to see.

Have you ever wondered what somebody looks like naked? >> In an idly musing sense, sure.

Have you ever had a sexual fantasy about a celebrity? >> When I was younger.

Have you ever changed your clothes in the car? >> I don’t think so, but maybe.

About how quickly does your hair grow? >> Too quickly for my liking, considering how often I have to buzz it.

Do you have to/choose to shave anything unusual? >> No.

Do you groom (wax, pluck, or thread) your eyebrows? >> No.

Most unusual thing you have worn in public? >> I don’t know?

If you wear makeup, what are your preferred brands? >> I don’t have any preferred brands.

Do you use flavored lip balm? What about tinted lip balm? >> Nope, just regular coconut-oil lip balm, thanks.

What is your favorite swear word? >> ---

Are you afraid of fireworks or other loud noises? >> I’m not afraid of them, I just have sensory issues and an exaggerated startle reflex. My responses are similar to fear responses, though, so it’s all the same shit at the end of the day, I guess.

Do you make your own iced tea, or buy it in jugs/bottles? >> I buy bottled iced tea.

Have you ever made sun tea? >> No.

Do you use sugar or honey to sweeten your tea? >> I use honey sometimes, but most of the time I drink it as-is.

Do you ever put milk in your tea? >> Not usually. It’s good in chai, but I just never think about it.

Do you prefer powdered or liquid coffee creamer? >> ---

Did your school have somewhere for girls to get emergency pads/tampons? >> ---

Did you have to wear a uniform for gym class? >> ---

Did you have to take showers after gym before going to your next class? >> ---

Were you in any extracurricular activities or clubs in high school? >> ---

Have you ever picked up and kept a rock because it caught your eye? >> Yeah.

Have you attended any rock (literal rocks, not music, lol) shows? >> No.

Have you ever laughed at a scene (TV/film) that wasn't meant to be funny? >> Oh, absolutely.

Do you think they should make a movie about Hatshepsut? >> I don’t have an opinion on this.

Do you think books are better adapted as movies or TV series? >> I think TV series are better if you want to actually delve into more of the book’s content.

Any great books you would recommend? >> ---

Any great movies or TV series you would recommend? >> ---

Were you disappointed with Fox's version of the Rocky Horror Show? >> I don’t care about Rocky Horror.

Have you ever seen the original Kinky Boots movie? What about the musical? >> Never seen either.

Have you seen any Hannibal movies other than The Silence of the Lambs? >> I’ve seen Red Dragon, Hannibal, and Hannibal Rising.

Have you read any of the Hannibal novels? >> Not yet. I’ve considered reading Red Dragon, since Francis Dolarhyde is my fave, but eh. Maybe one day.

Do you like any Indie movies? >> I mean, yes.

Have there been any movies you had fond memories of, but upon a rewatch didn't like as well? >> Absolutely. Tastes and needs evolve over time.

Do you like to go to the movies alone? >> I do, I love it. I especially love it when I go to a weekday matinee a couple of weeks after a movie’s premiere and the theater is empty of anyone save me. It’s the best feeling. I had so much fun watching Venom in an empty theater :)

When you watch movies/TV with people, do you find yourself making sarcastic remarks to each other? >> Well, that’d depend on the people, I guess. And what kind of mood I’m in. And what the movie/TV show even was.

Have you ever dried down any flowers to keep them? >> No.

What is your favorite thing that you have made by yourself? >> ---

Do you like your natural accent (everybody has one)? >> I’m fine with how I speak.

What accents do you find most pleasant? >> ---

Does it bother you when an actor in a musician biopic lip-syncs to a recording of the original artist, or is it better that way? >> I don’t have an opinion about this.

Have you ever read about Dennis Nilsen? >> No.

Do you ever go on murderpedia.org to read about murderers? >> No.

Have you ever read about the Black Dahlia? >> No.

Any other unsolved crimes you find fascinating? >> No, that’s not really something I’m interested in (although I don’t mind hearing other people talk about it).

Do you care what color your socks are? >> Of course I care.

What about your underwear? >> Yes. I won’t wear most colours of underwear.

What part of a man's body do you find most attractive? >> ---

What part of a woman's body do you find most attractive? >> ---

Do you think guys look good in makeup? >> ---

Do you like using clay and/or peel-off masks for skincare? >> I don’t use them. They mostly seem like sensory hell to me.

Have you ever had an asymmetrical haircut? >> I had a wig that was cut asymmetrically.

Have you ever made your own pillow or blanket? >> No.

Have you ever made a pillow out of an old T-shirt? >> No, but Sparrow has.

Have you ever tried lucid dreaming? (Where you can control your dreams) Would you ever want to try? >> I’ve not given it a serious attempt, no.

If you want to be cremated, do you want your ashes scattered anywhere? >> I don’t want to be cremated.

Would you ever have a deceased pet stuffed? >> No.

Would you ever have a pet cremated? >> No.

What is your favorite sci-fi series, if any? >> I have a few. The Stargates, for example.

Do you believe in the existence of parallel universes? >> Yep.

If you could run your own business, what kind of business would it be? >> I really would rather not.

#surveys #survey #random survey #not for reblogging *glare*

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abirddogmoment · 6 years ago

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Some of the birds I saw on World Migratory Bird Day, including one new lifer!

#ndr #find me where the wild things are #northern waterthrush #(a rare bird!!!!)#yellow-rumped warbler #clay-coloured sparrow #(described on the app as being 'incredibly cute' which i can confirm)#wild turkey #(wooing his ladies in the middle of the street)#bald eagle

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delicatelysublimeforester · 6 years ago

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World Sparrow Day March 20

Savannah Sparrow Passerculus sandwichensis

Swamp Sparrow (Melospiza georgiana)

Song sparrow Melospiza melodia

Tree Sparrow Spizelloides arborea

Savannah sparrow Passerculus sandwichensis

Swamp Sparrow (Melospiza georgiana)

What is the name of these Sparrows featured above?

The present is full of opportunity. Never before in the history of the planet has mankind been given the privileges and opportunities that are at his disposal today. A great light has been raised and is penetrating the darkness of the world, but alas, too many with dust blinded eyes have yet to catch the vision. Some of us have. That is our privilege and our responsibility. ~Richard St. Barbe Baker.

What do Harris’ Sparrow, White-crowned Sparrow, White-throated Sparrow, Fox Sparrow, Swamp Sparrow, Savannah Sparrow, Baird’s Sparrow, Vesper Sparrow, American Tree Sparrow, Chipping Sparrow, Clay-coloured Sparrow, Song Sparrow and Lincoln’s Sparrow all have in common? These labels include all these species as sparrows celebrating World Sparrow Day March 20! These species of Aves belong to the sparrow family Passeridae; the true sparrows, or Old World sparrows. Passerines compared to other birds have a unique arrangement of their toes, three pointing forward and one back, which facilitates perching – giving rise to their name a perching birds.

“Sparrows are difficult for people to identify because they don’t look at sparrows very often and so they are out of practice when it comes to actually looking carefully at their markings. But when it comes to identifying sparrows, there are two traits to study closely: song, and facial plumage pattern.Mystery” Which of these sparrows are common, and which are of special concern and which are threatened and on the verge of extinction? 1./ Learn. 2./ Experience 3./ Do Something: ***

The Harris Sparrow (Zonotrichia querula) may be mistaken for a House Sparrow, though the House Sparrow has a black or yellow bill, and the Harris Sparrow sports a pink bill. The Harris Sparrow belongs to the genus Zonotrichia, a greek word whose etymology means zone = “band”, and thrix, trikhos = “hair.” Zonotrichia are part of the family Emberizidae in the order Passeriformes. The Harris has a much longer tail than a House Sparrow, and the House Sparrow (Passer domesticus) has rufous (reddish-brown similar to rust) colouring on the wings and on the back, Both House Sparrows and Harris Sparrow have dark bibs, however the Harris Sparrow features black stripes below their bib. In the Saskatchewan prairies, Harris Sparrow also resemble White-throated Sparrow, and Song Sparrows. The Harris will breed in coniferous forests choosing spruce trees, and migrate through tallgrass prairies. The Harris will average a length of 17 to 20 cm (6.7 to 7.9 in), with a 27 cm (11 in) wingspan and weigh from 26 to 49 g (0.92 to 1.73 oz) with a tail length 7.6 to 8.8 cm (3.0 to 3.5 in). Compare this large sparrow to its smaller cousin, the House Sparrow 16 cm (6.3 in) long, weighing in at 24–39.5 g (0.85–1.39 oz) with a short tail tail 5.2–6.5 cm (2.0–2.6 in) long.

White-crowned Sparrow (Zonotrichia leucophrys) is one of the easiest sparrows to identify with its distinctive black and white stripy head. Leucophrys derives from leukos, “white”, and ophrus, “eyebrow”. The White crowned sparrow, though distinctive with its black and white markings on the head, does indeed, have a white crown on the top of its head, in contrast with the white and black head of the Harris’s Sparrow which features a black crown, and white below, and does not look stripy at all.

White-throated Sparrow (Zonotrichia albicollis) has a delightful call, often related among bird watchers as Oh Sweet Canada, Canada, Canada. This is a very common sparrow, but its highest mortality rate is due to window collisions. The White-throated sparrow, is just that, white throated, no stripes, or colourations on its chest, and features a small bright white bib below its bill. The head sports distinctive white and black stripes, however the yellow patches above its bill separates this species from the White-crowned sparrow. The White-throated Sparrow weights in at 22–32 g, with a length 16–18 cm and wingspan 20–23 cm.

Red Fox Sparrow ( Passerella iliaca iliaca ) is another large sparrow commonly seen along the ground. This sparrow is 15–19 cm (6–7.5 inches) long, featuring a wingspan of 27 cm (10.5 inches) and an average weight of 32 grams (1.1 oz). It is the typical “little brown bird”.

Swamp Sparrow (Melospiza georgiana) belongs to the order Passeriformes, and love to forage and breed along marsh edges. This sparrow features a solid coloured grey breast, with a rust or rufous cap and rusty wings. There is a dark stripe through the eye. The easiest way to tell if you are observing a Swamp Sparrow is to watch its tail, which it flicks from side to side all the time.

The savannah sparrow (Passerculus sandwichensis) is a steaky brown bird, featuring a small yellow spot above the bill near the eye. They feature a white chest, with a stripy bib. The feathers fluff on top of the head to make a small peak. The average length is between 11 to 17 cm (4.3 to 6.7 in), featuring a wingspan from 18 to 25 cm (7.1 to 9.8 in) and a body mass at 15 to 29 g (0.53 to 1.02 oz). This bird can also be found along the ground or in low bushes. Generally, the Savannah sparrow is considered a threatened species by the International Union for Conservation of Nature IUCN.

Baird’s Sparrow (Ammodramus bairdii) is in the Emberizidae of order Passeriformes. The Baird’s Sparrow has a length 12 cm and weigh in at 17-21 g and have a wingspan usually around 23 cm. Baird’s is somtimes confused with the Savannah sparrow however, the Savannah is much more streaked and features an extra white marking on its head. The Baird breeds and forages in the tallgrass prairies, and mixed grass prairies. The numbers of the Baird Sparrow are decreasing, and this is a concern to ornithologists as the Canadian prairies are the world’s most endangered ecosystem. Last Committee on the Status of Endangered Wildlife in Canada COSEWIC Designation of the Baird’s Sparrow was special concern. As the native prairie grassland disappears, then what will happen to the Baird’s Sparrow? It usually takes an experience bird watcher to identify a Baird’s Sparrow. Naturalists have found that populations of Baird’s Sparrow flourish after a controlled burn. Take time to learn the song and colour patterns of the Baird’s Sparrow “The Baird’s Sparrow is a secretive grassland sparrow, distinguished from other sparrows by “moustache” marks on its yellowish-ochre face, a necklace of thin streaks across its breast, and a song that usually ends in a wiry, musical trill. As a range-restricted species of the northern prairies, it is a valuable grassland indicator for that region. Species at risk

Vesper sparrow (Pooecetes gramineus) is a medium to large sparrow across the grassland prariries. It is unique as its song can often be heard in the golden hour of the day, early morning and in the vesper twilight hour at the end of day. It is another typical grayish brown bird, featuring a white eye-ring similar to that of a Robin. The Savannah Sparrow has a much shorter tail, and where the Savannah has a yellowish eye band, the Vesper does not. The Song Sparrow does not sport a distinctive white eye rings. There are four sub-species of Vesper Sparrows, and the Vesper Sparrow affinis subspecies is believed to be down to only five to ten pairs of birds.

American Tree Sparrow (Spizelloides arborea) is one of the sparrows seen in the winter in the prairies. American Tree Sparrows have a rufous crown, stripy rufous back and wings, and also a rufous eye stripe. They sport a white chest with a small pale black spot. One of the main differences between an Amerian Tree Sparrow and Chipping Sparrow is the rufous eye strips in the American Tree Sparrow, and the Chipping has a black eyestripe. The American Tree Sparrow breeds in the arctic boreal zone, and will be seen migrating across the plains near forest edges and near marshes. The American Tree Sparrow typically weighs in at 18 to 26 g, and are about 14 to 16.5 cm long with a wingspan range from 21.6 to 24.8 cm.

Chipping sparrow (Spizella passerina) are about 127 to 147 mm in length, and weigh in at 11 to 15.5 g. They will often be seen amid juncos, and clay-coloured sparrows. Chipping sparrows may perch atop a tree to survey their territory. A Chipping sparrow has pink legs and feet, and a black bill on top, with a pink or yellow under fill. They feature a black eye-stripe below a chestnut crown. Chipping sparrows have grey chest and rump with stripy wings sporting two broad white bands across them.

Clay-coloured sparrow (Spizella pallida) is one of the smaller sparrows, average length is 5.1–6 in (130–150 mm), weight 12 g (0.42 oz), wingspan 7.5 in (190 mm) and tail 62–68.4 mm (2.44–2.69 in). May often be seen perched on the tops of low growing thickets of brush and the nests are quite often within snowberry bushes. These little brown birds have a buff grey underbelly, with a gray colour encircling the entirety of its neck as a collar. The head and back or streaks of tan and black. A white stripe goes over its eye, and there is a small black moustache above the bill.

Song sparrow (Melospiza melodia) is a small brown bird of the family Emberizidae in the Passeriformes order. On average this sparrow is 11 to 18 cm (4.3 to 7.1 in) in length, with a wingspan can range from 18 to 25.4 cm (7.1 to 10.0 in), weighing in between 11.9 to 53 g (0.42 to 1.87 oz). Cornell Lab of Ornithology states that, “it’s one of the first species you should suspect if you see a streaky sparrow in an open, shrubby, or wet area.” Don’t confuse it with the Savannah Sparrow which has a yellow fleck on its face. The song sparrow is most common in brush areas and along marshes and a mix of the two is ideal. The song sparrow has a delightful mix of songs and melodies.

Lincoln’s Sparrow, (Melospiza lincolnii) loves to be around marshy areas, and dense thickets and is easy to spot with the streaks radiating all the way down its underbelly and no spot on the belly. It is the typical little brown job with a grayish, to brown stripy body much lighter in colour than the darker Song Sparrows. The bill of the Lincoln’s Sparrow is dark above, with a paler colour blow and featuring two rufous stripes through the crown.

As Jason Ward says, “Sparrows—or “little brown birds” (LBBs) as birders like to call them—are tricky like that. They’re always zooming in and out of bushes, confounding onlookers with their bland feathers and busy chatter…Tackling the common LBBs is a fun way to challenge yourself and sharpen your birding skills. With a little patience and a keen eye and ear, you will soon have your sparrows down to a science. Ward” For a little more assistance while walking along the wetlands and woodlands of the Richard St. Barbe Baker Afforestation area just download these bird field guides to your phone; What bird on IPhone What bird on Android

The fate of an individual or a nation will always be determined by the degree of his or its harmony with the forces and laws of Nature and the universe. Man is not alone in the universe but is surrounded by sources of power, harmony and knowledge. The fullness of life depends upon man’s harmony with the totality of the natural cosmic laws. Our individual evolution is a job that has to be carried on day by day by each individual himself. It is a lifelong task.” ~Richard St. Barbe Baker.

BIBLIOGRAPHY:

American Tree Sparrow All About Birds. Cornell Lab of Ornithology

American Tree Swallow Wikipedia.

American Tree Swallow Audubon Field Guide

American Tree Sparrow Bird web

American Tree Sparrow Feeder Watch

American Tree Sparrow What Bird

American Tree Sparrow Birds of North America.

American Tree Sparrow American Tree Sparrow Facts. National Geographic

American Tree Sparrow Kids inquiry of Diverse species, Spizella arborea, Amercian Tree Sparrow. BioKids

American Tree Sparrows in Winter. Wild Bird Video Productions.

Baird’s Sparrow Life History. All About Birds. Cornell Lab Of Ornithology

Baird’s Sparrow. What Bird

Baird’s Sparrow Audubon. US Fish and Wildlife Service

Baird’s Sparrow. Wikipedia.

Baird’s Sparrow. Audubon Field Guide

Birdist Rule #23 Identify Your First Song Sparrow Once you do, all of those other “little brown jobs” get a little less confusing. Audubon.

Chipping Sparrow National Geographic

Chipping Sparrow BioKids. Kid’s inquiry of Diverse species Spizella Passerina, chipping sparrow information.

Chipping Sparrow All about Birds. Cornell Lab of Ornithology

Chipping Sparrow Audubon Field Guides

Chipping Sparrow Wikpedia.

Chipping Sparrow Wild Bird Video Productions.

Clay-coloured Sparrow. All about Birds. Cornell Lab of Ornithology

Clay-coloured Sparrow Audubon Field Guide

Clay-coloured Sparrow Wikipedia

Clay-coloured Sparrow Whatbird

Clay Coloured Sparrow On identifying Chipping and Clay-coloured Sparrows. Sibley Guides

Clay Coloured Sparrow. Whatbird.

Clay Coloured Sparrow Singing You Tube Petroglyph 100

Bond, Larry. Fox Sparrow. You Tube

Chipping Sparrow bird web.

Fox Sparrow. Fox Sparrow pictures Fox Sparrow Facts. National Geographic

Fox Sparrow. Birdweb.org Seattle Audubon Society

Fox Sparrow. Audubon Field Guide

Fox Sparrow. Bird Watcher’s Digest

Fox Sparrow All About Birds Cornell University.

Fox Sparrow Bird of North America Online Cornell University.

Fox Sparrow What bird

Harris’ Sparrow All About Birds Cornell University.

Harris Sparrow. Wikipedia.

Harris Sparrow What Bird. Mitch Waite Group. Percevia field guides.

Harris Sparrow. Audubon Field Guide. National Audubon Society

Langston, Erica. Why City Sparrows Are Singing A Very Different Tune Birds are belting their songs out at never-before-heard frequencies to beat the heavy noise around them. Audubon Field Guide. National Audubon Society

Lincoln’s sparrow Calls and sounds Lesley the Bird Nerd. You Tube video

Lincoln’s Sparrow. All About Birds. Cornell Lab of Ornithology

Lincoln’s Sparrow Audubon Field Guide

Lincoln’s Sparrow Wikipedia.

Lincoln’s Sparrow. Bird Web

Lincoln’s Sparrow Melospiza lincolnii ARKive.

Lincoln’s Sparrow, Melospiza lincolnii. videos, photos and sound recordings. The internet bird collection. HBW Alive

Mystery bird: Clay-coloured Sparrow. Spizella Pallida Girl Scientist. Science The Guardian.

Savannah Sparrow All about birds. Cornell Lab of Ornithology.

Savannah Sparrow Wikipedia.

Stewart, Marilyn. Savannah Sparrow You Tube

Savannah Sparrow Audubon Field Guide

Savannah Sparrow. You Tube

Song Sparrow All about birds. Cornell lab of ornithology

Song Sparrow wikipedia

Song sparrow Audubon Field Guide

Song Sparrow National Geographic

Song Sparrow Bird Web

Song Sparrow Wild Bird Watching.

Song Sparrow What bird.com

Song Sparrow Lang Elliot. You tube video

Stop birds hitting windows. Effective Window Solutions. American Bird Conservancy.

Swamp Sparrow Identification All about Birds. Cornell Lab of Ornithology.

Swamp Sparrow Wikipedia.

Swamp Sparrow Audubon Field Guide

Swamp Sparrow video Wild Bird Video Productions.

Swamp Sparrow What bird.

Vesper Sparrow All About Birds. Cornell Lab of Ornithology.

Vesper Sparrow Wikipedia

Vesper Sparrow Audubon Field Guide

Vesper Sparrow Species at Risk Registry.

Vesper Sparrow What Bird

Vesper Sparrow Wild Bird Video Productions.

Ward, Jason. The biggest differences between song and savannah sparrows. Audubon Bird Identification Guide

White-crowned Sparrow All About Birds Cornell University.

White-Crowned Sparrow National Geographic

White-crowned sparrow. Wikipedia

White-crowned sparrow What Bird. Mitch Waite Group. Percevia field guides.

White Crowned Sparrow. Audubon Field Guide. National Audubon Society

White-throated Sparrow All About Birds Cornell University.

White-throated Sparrow Wikipedia.

Lang Elliott. White-throated Sparrow: Whistler of the North You Tube

White-throated Sparrow. National Geographic

White-throated Sparrow. American Bird Conservancy.

White-throated sparrow All About Birds Cornell University.

White-throated Sparrow Explore the Birds of North America. All About Birds Cornell University.

White-throated Sparrow. The National Bird Project. Canadian Geographic

Why Canada’s prairies are the world’s most endangered ecosystem Nature Conservancy of Canada.

For directions as to how to drive to “George Genereux” Urban Regional Park

For directions on how to drive to Richard St. Barbe Baker Afforestation Area

For more information:

Blairmore Sector Plan Report; planning for the Richard St. Barbe Baker Afforestation Area, George Genereux Urban Regional Park and West Swale and areas around them inside of Saskatoon city limits

P4G Saskatoon North Partnership for Growth The P4G consists of the Cities of Saskatoon, Warman, and Martensville, the Town of Osler and the Rural Municipality of Corman Park; planning for areas around the afforestation area and West Swale outside of Saskatoon city limits

Richard St. Barbe Baker Afforestation Area is located in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, Canada north of Cedar Villa Road, within city limits, in the furthest south west area of the city. 52° 06′ 106° 45′ Addresses: Part SE 23-36-6 – Afforestation Area – 241 Township Road 362-A Part SE 23-36-6 – SW Off-Leash Recreation Area (Richard St. Barbe Baker Afforestation Area ) – 355 Township Road 362-A S ½ 22-36-6 Richard St. Barbe Baker Afforestation Area (West of SW OLRA) – 467 Township Road 362-A NE 21-36-6 “George Genereux” Afforestation Area – 133 Range Road 3063 Wikimapia Map: type in Richard St. Barbe Baker Afforestation Area Google Maps South West Off Leash area location pin at parking lot Web page: https://stbarbebaker.wordpress.com Where is the Richard St. Barbe Baker Afforestation Area? with map Where is the George Genereux Urban Regional Park (Afforestation Area)? with map

Pinterest richardstbarbeb

Facebook Group Page: Users of the George Genereux Urban Regional Park

Facebook: StBarbeBaker

Facebook group page : Users of the St Barbe Baker Afforestation Area

Facebook: South West OLRA

Twitter: StBarbeBaker

You Tube Richard St. Barbe Baker Afforestation Area

You Tube George Genereux Urban Regional Park

Should you wish to help protect / enhance the afforestation areas, please contact the City of Saskatoon, Corporate Revenue Division, 222 3rd Ave N, Saskatoon, SK S7K 0J5…to support the afforestation area with your donation please state that your donation should support the Richard St. Barbe Baker Afforestation Area, or the George Genereux Urban Regional Park, or both afforestation areas located in the Blairmore Sector. Please and thank you! Your donation is greatly appreciated.

1./ Learn.

2./ Experience

3./ Do Something: ***

“St. Barbe’s unique capacity to pass on his enthusiasm to others. . . Many foresters all over the world found their vocations as a result of hearing ‘The Man of the Trees’ speak. I certainly did, but his impact has been much wider than that. Through his global lecture tours, St. Barbe has made millions of people aware of the importance of trees and forests to our planet.” Allan Grainger

“The science of forestry arose from the recognition of a universal need. It embodies the spirit of service to mankind in attempting to provide a means of supplying forever a necessity of life and, in addition, ministering to man’s aesthetic tastes and recreational interests. Besides, the spiritual side of human nature needs the refreshing inspiration which comes from trees and woodlands. If a nation saves its trees, the trees will save the nation. And nations as well as tribes may be brought together in this great movement, based on the ideal of beautifying the world by the cultivation of one of God’s loveliest creatures – the tree.” ~ Richard St. Barbe Baker.

Nature is man’s teacher. She unfolds her treasure to his search, unseals his eye, illumes his mind, and purifies his heart; an influence breathes from all the sights and sounds of her existence. Alfred Billings Street

Assemble yourself with wild things, with songs of the sparrow and sea-foam. Let mad beauty collect itself in your eyes and it will shine – Calling me. For I long for a man with nests of wild things in his hair. A man who will Kiss the Flame. – Jewel

Sparrows: difficult to identify World Sparrow Day March 20 What is the name of these Sparrows featured above? The present is full of opportunity.

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forsoothsayer · 6 years ago

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An Afternoon At Snowfall by Dilawar Karadaghi

I'm not here. What a shame, tomorrow day will break and I won't be here anymore. Shame, I won't be here tomorrow when someone opens the window, when someone writes a name on the window's mist, when someone waters the flower pots and, with an intense gaze, observes the confusion of fallen sparrows.

I'm not here. What a shame, I won't be here tomorrow when someone, still drenched in a blue dream, slowly staggers towards the mirror, runs the tap, and tells the lonely man in the mirror - a man who has turned to mist, to a grain of sand, to a drop of dew - You silly thing, what a strange dream I had about you! I swear, you came into my dreams more than a hundred times last night.

I'm not here What a shame, I won't be here when, in the light snowfall one morning, his heart racing, somebody suddenly starts worrying without reason, wishing that someone, someone who no longer walks the streets, someone who no longer walks out the door, or stares out the window, will walk past and say: I haven't seen you for ages, my friend!

I'm not here. Shame, I won't be here tomorrow when someone in a fast train passes by a small brooding cloud above a mournful station and, having a sudden premonition, calls to the cloud, raises his hand, turning round to look back as it vanishes out of sight, muttering under his breath: Maybe that's him? Maybe that's the one who doesn't exist, someone who can't ever stop at a single station anywhere.

I'm not here. Shame, I won't be here when in a drizzly hour one morning in a library -- a library dressed in a tarboush and a suit, a library stuffed full of musty books -- a sad poem, sitting in its own attic of solitude -- a poem which still gazes expectantly and speaks as clear as a mirror -- is picked up by someone, the kindest person in the world, who takes it by the hand and helps it off the shelf. Together they leave for a teahouse near the library where they sit in the sun and laugh in the rain, and putting their hands in their pockets, they whistle in the snow. As the world passes by, they think about life, considering all the the things that are important all the things that are simple and new. They condsider the things that have been fenced off, that have been disappeared and pushed to one side. They consider a poem that has not come to life. They consider an infant wrapped up in a blanket patterned with butterflies. They consider an orange seller. They consider a kite threaded to childhood. They consider their morning sweet tea. They consider a blade of grass. They consider a baby sparrow risking its first flight through the rain. They consider a crushed can tinkling downstream at siesta-time.

I'm not here. Shame I won't be here when a door is opened but no one walks through. When a window is open but no pollen-down drifts in with the evening. When a ladder dies from waiting for someone to climb it carrying a bunch of grapes up to the roof on a warm summer night. When a road pines away from loneliness and no one gives it a hug. When a tree collapses and no one remembers its colours. When a garden is overgrown and its flowers are never worn anymore.

I'm not here. Shame I won't be here when you come out to the courtyard one evening and it isn't me whose finger presses the doorbell, waiting by the door with a heart full of doubt like green grapes.

I'm not here. Shame I won't be here when in a cold hour one winter afternoon you walk out all worried and it won't be me who stares like a child at the rising wind and the falling rain. I'm not here. Shame I won't be here when one afternoon at snowfall you walk through the city looking for me. You search for me under the wing of a bat. You knock on the door of an ant friend of mine; worried, you ask, Haven't you seen him today?

You stop a drunk squirrel's truck. You enter an owl's florist shop. You coo along with a pessimistic pigeon. You stop by a garden related to me to look through the closed fists of flowers. You search through the straw under the house of a stork, in the beaks of fledgling sparrows, in the claws of a hedgehog. You look through the depths of a drop of water for me, you search under a ladybird's feet, beneath a crumb of clay, inside the warm heart of a stalk of wheat, in the bitterness of a haw, under a bruised leaf of basil, beneath the tongue of a speechless cicada, in the corner of a dank pocket of a story, in the iris of a bead, in the sleeve of a rhubarb stalk, on the roof of a fresh smell, in the middle of a bundle of dreams, under the skin of a snowflake, in the heartbeat of a pomegranate seed -- in everything. You will search for me in everything. What a shame that at that sad hour of the afternoon you'll be looking for me but I won't be here, what a shame that on this afternoon as snow falls I'm not here anymore.

#dilawar karadaghi #kurdish poetry

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interpreterslinguistics · 2 years ago

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Astral Diary: Wolf, 4/1/22

We’re seen again padding through the forest. We = some inorganic mix of the mist of the void entangled as thread between the fabric of myself and my other self. No eyes, because that’s not the point.

Entangled. The forest twists above me, but I’m inclined to drop the whole premise of sight from my retelling because that is not what a wolf is. When I was here, I was pushed by Eye to keep going even when I didn’t want to.

I said:

The world smells like a concoction only comparable to the smell of rain, a humid and pregnant, melodic composition of distant voices of people and plants and sweat and water on this plane, but also the voices of things energetic like whispers seeping through from somewhere else - energy. This energy has an alluring voice as a top note, mid notes of distant ‘human’ voices used by Fae throats like bait on a fisherman’s hook, base notes of whispered discourse and hissing emanations the unseen hands turning cogs in Nature’s workings. The ground is moist, and warm. It’s not too moist though, it doesn’t uncomfortably sink in-between paw pads.

Physically, as in in this room right now as I am typing, I’m drawn to the mirror on my bed sat uncomfortably facing myself directly. My own energy sings out and tells me from the other side that no - by the distortions in its surface - I’m not retelling this exactly. The distorted lights in it form an eye, I ask what I’m missing, drawn to Pinterest to click on a picture before it loads and it’s deer in a great looming forest, a picture out of place with the abstract or manmade images that generally dot my recommended images. Look back at the forest… And look at it.

The Sky stretches a strange and unfamiliar shade of blue above me - “this is not your sky”, I feel. The trees are light, some look like birch, but they stretch tall overhead and lend a bright coloured light to the scene… I presume it’s energy despite looking physical, it feels like, in the way that leaves billow down from underneath the tangle of branches, this bright light energy does the same, falling from the trees? Or perhaps just emanating from the trees like mist emanates from the ground…

What’s that about blood? I keep being drawn to talking about bloodshed, murder, killing. In the distance I see myself also as a black wolf, waiting at the intersection of memory and mindspace. He turns and walks into the mindspace with the implication of me following.

It’s a hollow shrine in here, carved into some sort of echoing and impossibly expansive cave… People, statues - statues? Or strangely humanoid stalagmites - praying with mouths open as if wailing or screaming. He curves around some sort of body on the floor and sits, interspersed with visions flashing in my mind of vaguely-human people ravenously tearing apart some sort of huge, horse-sized carcass less like a body between them and more like clay into which they’d waded, as it barely held any shape anymore and liquefied with its once-taut muscles shredded beyond cohesion. He smiles in-between the visions and my recognition, why? I know why, the fact that I knew bloodshed and whatnot would be a part of this meditation and avoided it, yet I linger on the visions of near-cannibalism.

“What did you hunt?” A small bird, it seems, I drop it from my maw like a house dog caught with a stolen egg. This kill was all I could muster. The bird’s fragile form is real enough to squish my lips against my face as I held it in the small front teeth far enough away from the devastation I could cause with the rest of my mouth. Some sort of sparrow, it looks like, big for a sparrow if so but coloured the same. I’m alone in the forest looking about, though looking more as feeling - paw pads like a shark’s electrical senses feeling pulsing energy - and it’s weirdly still all moving about me like a living ecosystem yet not shaming me for the catch. No discourse about endangered species? No criticism of unnecessary cruelty for killing such a small thing?

My head twists with curiosity at the idea of no backlash - but then twists much more involuntarily at a snapping twig. Mindspace overlaps Astral memories again as, from the line of trees, a hunting group of humans pours out from the tree line. They’re dressed in strange ways both naked in nonsensical places and wearing things that I barely remember as dress suits, dancing almost or at least their movements register as strange dances to my brain, holding spears and weaponry built like those of ancient times from chiseled rocks and tree bark, no metal in sight except flashing off the buttons of their suits and wrist cuffs. I want to flee from the weaponry but I realise I don’t have to, this is mental, and they shift across the clearing behind me in these clumsy and barely-cultivated dances before blurring, like sparks fly into stars from the campfire to the night sky, into cave paintings alongside the animals of ancient times… But the humans refuse to stay still. They remain strange fleshy blobs dancing about like pupae still stuck in the outlines but refusing to become history…

It’s a strange display. My wolf brain has had enough and wants to go find something more interesting and hands on, and fun. Physically I call Eye to see if he wants to play games.

#Astral //#Diary //#Shoutout to that one post that reminded me I didn't post this yet

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