Common blackbird

Um, but they-

Blackbirds are great, but I don't think I would say that's my favorite song.

I mean, it's an interesting one.

Well, these are German, too.

And in the next story I'll tell you what the blackbird said.

End of chapter thirty-three

THE LITTLE OLD MAN OF THE WOOD you remember in the last story that puss was trudging along with the blackbird in the gilt cage well after a little way not so very far the blackbird said if you will let me out of the cage i will show you some wonderful things will you said puss and he opened the door of the cage and out flew the blackbird and then he perched on puss jr s shoulder throw away the cage said the blackbird it's a prison and then he flapped his wings and commenced to sing oh it's good to be free again with the flowers blooming gay and to follow the sun in his daily run ever and ever away And then, all of a sudden, Puss and the Blackbird came across the little old man of the wood.

He was sitting just outside his house, which was a great hollow tree.

Yes, there he sat smoking his pipe, and his great long white beard fell down almost to his feet.

So he followed the king's highway until he came to a signpost saying, To Hero-land! And in the next story you shall hear what a wonderful adventure he had in that new land.

All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain.

For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Sir Lancelot, in the last story we left little Puss Jr. entering Hero Land with his friend, the Blackbird, perched upon his shoulder and his trusty sword by his side.

We're all constantly distracted and we wouldn't know a pigeon from a barn owl, half of us.

And the Blackbird is the one you want to listen out to.

The Blackbird has been sort of decided on really as to be having the prettiest song, the most lovely song.

I'm kind of surprised by that.

You would have

Well, I mean, isn't there a bird called an actual song thrush or something? Yeah, I think there is.

Or whatever.

But anyway, the Blackbird, the simple Blackbird.

So you're in at number six.

Number five, Blackbird.

Number four, The Starling.

Number three, Wood Pigeon.

And it was originally a convent.

And I was contacted by Jordan Colvert to design a window, St. Kevin and the Blackbirds.

And if you go to this hotel and pub on Camden Street, you will see the window behind the bar.

And it's an image of St. Kevin with blackbirds.

Can I ask you to read a small section of that poem?

Okay, Saint Kevin and the Blackbirds, 1996, by Seamus Heaney.

And then there was Saint Kevin and the Blackbird.

The saint is kneeling, arms stretched out inside his cell, but his cell is so narrow, so unturned a palm is out the window, stiff as a crossbeam, when a blackbird lands and lays in it and settles down to nest.

Little Robin Redbreast was there, hopping about and saying pleasant things to everyone, for he was a great favorite.

Gorgeous Goldfinch was there in fine feather, and little Blackbird, who was then as white as snow.

There were the proud Peacock, and the silly Ostrich, the awkward Penguin, and the dodo whom no man living has ever seen likewise there were the jub-jub bird and the dinky bird and many other curious varieties that one never finds described in the wise bird books which is very strange and sad too i think Yes, all the birds were there for the choosing of their king, both the birds who could fly and those who could not.

But for what were they given wings if not to fly? How silly an ostrich must feel! Now the eagle expected to be king.

And to the cow he said, Kuru! Kuru! coaxing her to hasten.

cried tortorelle imitating him she knew not why and as she said it she wondered at the strange feeling which came over her for her body felt very light and it seemed as if she could fly she looked down and saw that she was no longer covered with a little white gown but with soft feathers of ashy gray while winds spread from her shoulders oh i have become a bird she tried to say but all she uttered was cooroo cooroo for tortorelle was become a beautiful turtle-dove and that is all a turtle-dove can say cooroo cooroo mocked a voice from the tree and cocking her little reddish eye tortorelle saw a brilliant jay hopping in the branches imitating a dove then it was the song of a wren she heard then a thrush then a sparrowhawk all these sounds coming from one little throat of the happy bird on that bough tortorelle tried to do likewise but all she could sing was and she said mournfully to herself it is zaika she was wiser than i and earlier and the dream came true for her oh dear oh dear and to this day turtle dove flies about sadly uttering her monotonous cry and listening with a longing that would be envy were she not so good a little bird to the chatter of her friend the jay for zaika the jay is always merry hopping from tree to tree playing her jokes upon the other birds whom she deceives with her wonderful voice and she leads a life so gay and exciting that she never finds time to be sad even over the disappointment of her dear friend poor little tortorelle End of section 17 The Early Girl Recording by Sarah and Gratia Partial

How the Blackbird Spoiled His Coat Once upon a time, our friend Blackbird, who comes first of the feathered brothers in the spring, was not black at all.

No, indeed, he was white, white as feather snow new-fallen in the meadow.

Recorded for LibriVox.org by Larry Wilson.

The Blackbird Song the bee is asleep in the heart of the rose the larks nestle soft in the cloud the swallow lies snug closer under the eaves but the blackbird's fluting is loud he pipes as no hermit would or should half a mile deep in the heart of the wood in the green dark heart of the wood The raven's asleep in the thick of the oak, his head close under his wing.

The larks come down to his home on the earth, but the blackbird still will sing, making the heart of the dark wood thrill with the notes that come from his golden bill, that flow from his golden bill.

A GOLDEN EAGLE In January 1900 I had given me a golden eagle.