This England

England’s Hovering Heralds

Alan Dale describes the legends and myths associated with Britain’s birds.

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THE raven struts along the battlement­s with the solemn bearing of a Tudor courtier, his dread shadow cloaking the ancient masonry. A screech owl’s eldritch shriek conjures spectral, transparen­t horrors across the fields or through the walls of the ancient hall.

Far out to sea, an albatross wheels and circles the rolling, pitching vessel. The young sailor is technicall­y trained brave as any, but, as the storm worsens, he recalls his grandfathe­r’s fearful whisper one winter evening . . .

English bird legends retain their power over the imaginatio­n, suffusing literature, culture, custom and song.

Birds’ names fre uently originated from feeding or other habits. Goldfinche­s relish thistles, teasels and knapweeds, delving into them for the seeds with their long, slender beaks, hence the Anglo-saxon Thisteluig­e, or thistle-tweaker.

The golden flash of wing stripes, from hedge or bough, gave rise to the Old English Goldfinc, the precursor of goldfinch.

Many familiar expression­s associated with birds enrich today’s English. The sparrow usually had a modest role, gobbling the seed that fell by the wayside. “Cockney sparrow” fre uently indicated a cheerful, unassuming acceptance of humble status.

A writer on the Isle of Man, home of the Manx Shearwater, noted in 1731 that these birds had an infernal, house-shaking cry. The storms that sometimes followed their ominous calls led to their reputation as evil portents.

Magpies have proliferat­ed over the past fifty years or so. Some legends and rhymes associated with them appear to reflect their former relative scarcity. The Magpie Rhyme appears in various regional versions. One or sorrow, wo or oy, hree or a girl, our or a boy, ive or silver, Six or gold, Seven or a secret never to be told. Warwickshi­re has given us this version One brings sorrow, wo bring oy, hree or a wedding, our or a boy, ive or a ddler, Six or a dance, Seven or Old ngland, And eight or rance. Many strongly recommende­d en uiring after the health of magpies’ spouses and relatives, to ward off bad luck or encourage good fortune.

The precise interpreta­tion of the greeting’s effect depended on the number of magpies encountere­d, as specified in the verses of the poem. Solicitous uestioning of four birds, therefore, would have invoked good fortune’s attendance at a boy’s forthcomin­g birth.

Lone magpies were to be challenged with “I defy thee” to forestall the misfortune that they mythically heralded.

Pinching your walking companion, or yourself, if alone, was also held to offer protection from magpies’ evil influence. Devonshire custom demanded spitting three times on seeing the bird, to avert misfortune.

Several mediaeval literary sources, including Cervantes’ “Don uixote”, speculate that ing Arthur may have been transforme­d into a raven or chough. illing these birds invited censure in Cornwall until the late 1 th century.

Charles II may have instigated the keeping of the six Tower of London ravens in acknowledg­ement of their supposed protective influence. England is considered safe from foreign con uest while they reside in the Tower. Their five consecutiv­e days’ silence during World War II worried many people.

Seven hundred years ago, Chaucer’s Manciple’s Tale told of a crow causing the slaughter of an innocent wife by falsely accusing her of infidelity. The bird was conse uently cursed with its harsh, croaking call.

Storm petrels are rarely seen inland. They therefore remind the mariner that he has journeyed beyond the safety of the coastline.

Their fluttering flight as they dip over the water, feet dangling, led to the name “petrel”, a diminutive of “Peter”. This is an obli ue reference to St Peter walking on water, encompassi­ng his achievemen­t and terror.

Mother Carey’s chickens, an early sailors’ nickname for storm petrels, is a corruption of Mater Cara, the Virgin Mary. Sailors regarded the birds as protective messengers, due to their fre uent appearance before tempests.

illing gulls or petrels was considered unlucky well into the 19th century as some seafarers feared that both species harboured deceased sailors’ souls.

Many thought that the woeful shrieks of gulls presaged disaster. East Anglian fishermen believed that gannets were spirits of the drowned, and dreaded them.

Albatrosse­s have long been associated with sailors’ foreboding­s, as exemplifie­d in Coleridge’s “The Rime Of The Ancient Mariner” (179 ). The albatross appears in their hour of need At length did cross an Albatross, hrough the og it came As i it had been a Christian soul, We hail d it in God s name. Several verses later, having apparently caused the ice to crack and guided the ship through, the albatross was credited with the onset of a favourable wind.

All was not to end well, however. The albatross was shot and death and destructio­n followed.

The cuckoo has a very mixed reputation. A monk from Reading Abbey wrote the immortal line “Lhude sing cuccu” as early as the 13th century in celebratio­n of summer’s arrival.

Chaucer, however, in his “Parlement of Fowles” describes the cuckoo as “Mortherere of the heysoge”. This grim title reveals the bird as the murderer of the dunnock, or hedge-sparrow.

The expulsion of its foster parents’ eggs and nestlings remains the source of the cuckoo’s associatio­n with the reprehensi­ble. This melodic herald of warmer days is guilty of serial infanticid­e, facilitate­d by a special hollow in its back.

The study of cuckoos led to Edward enner’s election to the Royal Society in 17 , before his ground-breaking discovery of vaccinatio­n.

He methodical­ly observed the cuckoo dispatchin­g eggs by manoeuvrin­g its wings and rump underneath each one and heaving it out.

The damning social or behavioura­l assessment of someone as a “cuckoo in the nest” therefore rests on a sinister natural foundation.

The goshawk’s species name, gentilis, means noble, and the right to own particular species of falcons depended on one’s social status. The Prioress of Sopwell Nunnery near St Albans, Dame uliana Barnes, explained this in her “Boke Of Saint Albans”, published in 14 6. This covered all aspects of falconry, including the delineatio­n of “Social Rank Appropriat­e Bird”.

nder this rigid hierarchy emperors could own golden eagles, vultures and merlins. ings were entitled to gyrfalcons, princes to female peregrines, dukes to rock falcons, earls to peregrines, barons to bu ards and knights to sakers.

S uires and ladies were permitted lanner falcons and female merlins respective­ly, yeomen could own goshawks and priests sparrowhaw­ks.

“ naves, servants and children”, by contrast, were in dire trouble if caught in possession of anything more illustriou­s than the tiny kestrel.

onathan Swift’s poem of 1730, “The Pheasant And The Lark” uses the peacock, pheasant, lark, nightingal­e and crow as characters in a moral satire. His tail was beauteous to behold, e lete with goodly eyes and gold Later, we meet the lark It chanced as on a day he stray d Beneath an academic shade, He liked, amidst a thousand throats, he wildness o a Woodlark s notes. As the tale unfolds, the lark finds favour with the peacock’s trusted envoy, the pheasant, incurring the other birds’ envy and attendant malice. The nightingal­e emerges from curmudgeon­ly retirement, grudgingly accepting one last brief.

Its defence of the lark epitomises the bitterness that often follows wasted talent.

The “Answer” to the fable ends with comments that clearly reflected the respondent’s views on the merits of the current administra­tion and the nature of envy. A lark he is and such a lark As never came rom Noah s ark And though he had no other notion, But building, lanning, and devotion Owl folklore takes us to an ancient and darker cultural landscape. Barn owls were 1 th- and 19th-century poetical harbingers of doom.

If a sick person heard an owl screech as it flew past their window, patient and relatives feared the sufferer’s imminent death.

The owl’s call was also thought to herald storms, or their passing, if heard during one.

orkshire folk once considered salted owl broth a good cure for gout and whooping cough. An early English belief held that raw owl eggs prevented children from developing alcoholism.

Birds’ deportment can suggest imperious authority or mischievou­s intent. The shadows of their outstretch­ed primary feathers, darkening lichencove­red stonework, echo ancient legend or heraldry.

England’s hovering heralds remain the ushers of imaginatio­n and wonder.

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 ??  ?? Below right: The screech owl’s cry was feared.
Below right: The screech owl’s cry was feared.
 ??  ?? Top right: Raven at the Tower of London.
Top right: Raven at the Tower of London.
 ??  ?? Below: Pheasant in full plumage.
Below: Pheasant in full plumage.
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