In this month’s Manx Bard column, Bradley Chambers discusses poets’ liking of birds.

Why do poets write so often about birds? These strange, diverse creatures which evolved from dinosaurs. From tiny hummingbirds to soaring albatross. The quirky wren, and the glorious bald eagle. Chickens, kingfishers, owls, starlings and parrots. The comical Shoebill. The deadly Southern Cassowary with its dagger-like claws. They certainly vary.

The Poetry of Birds is on my bookshelf; an entire book of bird poems, edited by former Poet Laureate Simon Armitage. So many poems about birds, but why? Maybe there is something magical in birds, or perhaps something deeply grounded in reality. Perhaps both. Poets return to birds continually. Birds represent something. They point to something.

Birds in poetry often symbolize freedom, transcendence, the human soul, and something spiritual. They frequently represent hope, joy, and inspiration but can also suggest darker aspects of life – such as fragility and mortality.

Caged Bird by Maya Angelou contrasts the freedom of a wild bird with the restricted life of a captive bird. Are we quite as free as we think we are? I don’t think so. Wallace Stevens is a challenging poet. He managed to find ‘Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird’. Quite a feat.

‘The Raven’ by Edgar Allan Poe is a brilliant poem, in which he uses a bird to symbolize dark and endless grief. ‘Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!” Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.’

What about the magpie though? They have a bad reputation. Aggressive, territorial and highly opportunistic scavengers which eat eggs and chicks. Surely the bad guys of the ornithological world.

There is another story to tell. Magpies are hugely intelligent (for a corvid). They have beautiful, carolling songs and can mimic human speech. You can Google a magpie which says, ‘You alright love?’, to hear what I mean: catching the Yorkshire accent brilliantly.

Then there are the vivid colours – iridescent green and blue in the sunlight, along with their striking black and white.

Magpies are deeply embedded in European folklore. Seen as harbingers of bad luck (or worse), many would not wish to see a lonesome magpie. Happened to me though – on a walk from Ballaugh. Here’s what happened:

Two for Joy

No, I wish I had not seen you

in bracken clearing, strewn with wood

wish I’d not seen you, spying me

for to see you does no good

A sullen cumulonimbus

above - the static sky

and down here, in the shadows

I see your prying eyes

I hear you, lonesome magpie

unconcerned with my unease

rattle out a chattered phrase

between the aspen trees

You strut– a mocking, jaunty gait

the darkness dulls your gleam

an angel of calamity, as I look

down to Glenn Dhoo stream

In the valley, by the empty Phurt

from lemon-scented fern

emerged another magpie

flew up towards Slieau Curn

Transforming fortunes in an instant

One for sorrow, two for joy

catching rainbow, stretch of sun

struck the wings of my companion

in an instant he was gone