All Things Bright and Beautiful... The Goldfinch.

I recently came across two Renaissance altarpiece paintings representing the Virgin and the Child, the one above by a Florentine master in the early 14th century, and the one below by a Mantuan master in the 16th century. Despite the two centuries that separate these works, and the differences in painterly approach and technique that are apparent, the one key feature that is common to both is the enigmatic presence of a goldfinch. Although I had seen these beautiful birds as details or conversely the main subject of a piece of art, I had never associated them with any specific religious significance.

Of course, I am referring to the rather menacing giant finch in Hieronymus Bosch's Garden of Earthly Delights (circa 1400), with its glinting eye and pointed beak near the vulnerable, nude forms of carnal pleasure-seekers, followed by The Goldfinch of 1654 by another Dutch painter, Carel Fabritius (image: Wikimedia Commons). Both birds are striking with their boldly-coloured plumage and are intriguing too as they lead us to puzzle over their significance or perhaps lack of one... Was there a shared meaning at work, over the centuries, in these pieces and furthermore how does this tie in with the altarpieces?

Apparently, the goldfinch is not cited in the Bible, and yet this particular bird is repeatedly portrayed in Renaissance religious paintings, for the large part of Italian origin or influence. In most cases, the goldfinch is held in the hand of the child Jesus, or is held out to Him by his mother, Mary. In this manner, the bird thus symbolizes Christ's Passion (derived from the Latin passus "to suffer"), since like the red-breasted robin, the goldfinch is stained by the blood of the Saviour with its distinctive scarlet facial markings. These wounds were earned as the valiant songbirds attempted to pluck away the spines from the crown of thorns. Along with suffering and death, there is also the image of ressurrection, with the finch's golden flight feathers, offset by dramatic black, as symbols of hope and salvation. Leonardo da Vinci, Raphael, Zurbaran and Tiepolo all included the finch in their Madonna and Child works; below is da Vinci's Madonna Litta (circa 1490).

The goldfinch was also considered to be a protection against illness, acting as a caladrius; a bird with restorative and healing powers, should the sick person stare into its eyes. Even in Ancient Greece, the yellow eyes of a bird were held to possess curative qualities, especially in the case of jaundice. Since the Black Death had decimated a large proportion of the inhabitants across Europe in the mid 14th century, individuals were prepared to cling to any remedy, however implausible (or unsavioury)! Leonardi de Vinci observed "The gold-finch is a bird of which it is related that, when it is carried into the presence of a sick person, if the sick man is going to die, the bird turns away its head and never looks at him; but if the sick man is to be saved the bird never loses sight of him but is the cause of curing him of all his sickness". Thistles - the vegetation of predilection for the goldfinch - were believed to combat the plague and were largely considered to be sacred plants. Apart from these presumed attributes, the goldfinch has always been valued as household pet - not merely for its appearance and captivating bird song, but also its ability to perform tricks... such as filling up a thimble of water. As such, the goldfinch was kept in a cage or attached by a string, as was the case of Carel Fabritius' fine specimen, and as an imprisioned being, deprived of free flight, was the subject of many poems, perhaps the most famous of which is The Caged Goldfinch by Thomas Hardy. Finally, although I live in a rather ugly street that accommodates a tramline, I am graced with the presence of many goldfinches each spring, all gathering in the scrubby trees that punctuate the pavement below my flat. The first time I made out the birdsong above the constant noise of road traffic and trams, I wondered which hardy little creature could sing like that, until I saw the elusive goldfinches, hidden away in the branches. It just goes to show how the beauty and enchantment of Nature can be found anywhere...

Artistic Birdwatching for the New Year...

I certainly don't see or hear too many birds from my fifth-floor flat, although clusters of goldfinches magically appear in the springtime, gracing the scrubby, scruffy trees in the street down below with their elegant, colourful presence. However, I have come across a few exotic species over the last few months.

The most stunning were perhaps the ones to be found in the Beaney House of Art and Knowledge in Canterbury. Some are small features from 17th century Dutch stained-glass window panels set in the museum staircase, but others were in exhibition display cabinets (hence the annoying light reflections on the photographs!). Unfortunately I didn't take notes on the exact origins or history of these pieces during my visit, so I will have to wait till next time...

As with most centuries-old art, the aspect and appearance of the humans that were dutifully represented on canvas, or indeed, stained glass often seem quaintly 'dated' to our 21st century eyes and aesthetics, but the animals portrayed always appear uncannily timeless or contemporary even.

Strangely quirky expressions and quizzical tilts of the head are displayed by beasts, feathered or furred, that seem to capture some essential bestial essence that wipes away the vast expanse of years that separates us from the time of their creation.

Funny beady eyes peer out at us knowingly, or otherwise the beast in question seems to be too engrossed in its own activity to pay any attention to us mere spectators, or indeed any of the human actors in the artwork in question.

The tortoiseshell butterfly below is caught in its perfect state, like an insect in resin, as if it had been captured only yesterday...

I came across this beautiful bird-making kit over Christmas, and couldn't resist it. I do wish there were some more European common-or-garden species in the set since ironically I rarely catch sight of the humble robin, wren or bullfinch these days. Maybe I could make my own version, once I have finally assembled these fine North American specimens!

Sparrows of the Salon du Thé - La Grande Mosquée in Paris...

Peer closely, and you will see one of the sparrows synonymous with the salon du thé, which is an annexe of the Grande Mosquée in the 5th arrondissement of Paris.

The site is just opposite the Jardin des Plantes and is a beautiful place for a pause, with a mint tea and some Oriental pâtisseries.

Be under no illusion; you will not be alone in this. The whole establishment draws in Parisians and tourists alike, from very different backgrounds, in very impressive numbers!

It is indeed incredibly popular and yet does not pander or privilege any particular clientele. The emphasis seems to be on traditional rather than trendy.

There is no distracting music, there are numerous tables but the atmosphere is not loud or intrusive, the waiters are smart but in no way haughty.

Alongside the exterior garden-patio salon du thé, just belond the arches, you can enter the restaurant itself, where the menu offers typical North-African dishes.

Otherwise, there is a covered interior patio, complete with fountain... And those strikingly vibrant tiles.

And of course, the key visitors - those jaunty little birds - whose crumb-seeking maurauding knows no bounds.

These cheeky sparrows fly in an out of the restaurant shamemlessly, bobbing around the salon, busy in the trees and bushes, flitting between tables on a mission. For these feathered felons are ever-ready to relieve you of some morsel, be that from you plate or directly off your fork! Or rather, they were... 

Indeed, on my last two trips to the salon, I noticed that a dramatic change had taken place. There was not a bird to be seen - anywhere. Just as I was about to inquire, a smug-looking cat sauntered past with such nonchalence that any lingering doubts were put to rest.

The cat in question resolutely refused to acknowledge me in any way and did not deign to turn round, intent as it was on lapping water. Hmm, no need to wonder why this visitor had developped such a thirst. And yes, all the above photos, with sparrows, are in fact old!

La Grande Mosquée (built - 1926)

Common or Garden Visitors....

On my recent trip back to England, I carried out my ritual walk through Hyde Park. As I wandered along the paths, I became aware of the process by which flora and fauna no longer seem exotic to us and start to become commonplace and customary. The green parakeet was a fine example of this, flashing past, screeching and squabbling in the branches and occasionally deigning to eat from the hands of visitors. Although they must be a very long way from their original homeland, the species appears to be thriving in the London parks.

Whilst the jay (Garrulus glandarius) may appear a little less exotic, its distinctive, primitive cry sets it apart from the other birds. Attracted by acorns, these ones nevertheless seemed content to observe the proceedings, chattering away amongst themselves as we tried to feed the parakeets...  Not even vaguely appropriate for any creature other than teenagers, the barbeque-flavoured crisps did manage to draw in a few birds and one North American expat - the grey squirrel!

Storks!

A while ago, I had the chance to visit the Stork Conservation Centre of NaturOparc at Hunawihr, in the Alsace region. Prior to this trip, I had already come across these incredible birds in various locations, but as their typical roosting spots are generally well above eye-level, I had never been able to get up-close-and-personal, so to speak.

At the centre, adults, fledgings and young chicks are visible, as are a range of other natural inhabitants of water courses and marsh land - otters, coypus and the endangered golden hamster of Alsace, no less. The centre actively works on programmes of reproduction and reintroduction of the various species, and in so doing educates and entertains the general public.

My first sighting of wild storks was around an old palace in Marrakech, Morocco. This was a wonderful image – the terracotta-red of the ancient buildings, streaked white from droppings from the vast stick-and-frond nests perched precariously along walls and rooftops. And then, of course, the storks themselves, like creatures from another age, their huge wing span, the gangly yet strangely elegant legs and that curious clacking noise as they clatter their impressive bills as a means of communication.

Then, closer to home, I saw the storks that inhabit the north-east area of France. Although I had been aware that storks took up residence in the towns and villages, I hadn’t realized to what extent. I was so excited to notice the first specimen, looking down from one the chocolate-box-pretty buildings that are so typical of Alsace, that I didn’t notice that there were many others, peering down or just indifferent to us humans far below. It really was a Hitchcock kind of moment -  we were encircled by large birds from way above! 

When I last returned to this part of France, I was rather more prepared for the sight, yet not to the point of becoming blasé. The sheer size of these birds strikes you during their bold flight, legs and neck outstretched, or as they preen and pose, perched on their dramatic nests, silhouetted against the sky line. These storks are as much part of the fabric of landscape in Alsace, as they are key to the folklore of the region. It is said that the Alsatians revere the cigogne as much as the Egyptians did the ibis, however this has not necessarily always been the case over the last decades; hence the need for conservation centres to build up declining stork populations. 

Indeed, changing agricultural practices, the wide-spread use of herbicides and pesticides, electrocution from criss-crossing powerlines and the canalisation of the Rhine has meant that stork numbers diminished considerably from the Second World War. Efficient land management and industrialisation resulted in the loss of traditional habitats as marshy terrain was drained, grassy meadows converted to new crop use, or was overrun by taller vegetation incompatible with stork foraging patterns. Pollution rendered land toxic to these birds and also harboured other hazards. The final outcome served as a wake-up call, not just to the people of Alsace, but also to those of the Netherlands, Belgium, Poland, Switzerland and Sweden who were at risk of losing their emblematic bird. 

Acting as symbol of fidelity, fertility and good fortune, this migratory creature is integral to cultural heritage around Europe and Africa. Commonly associated with life, rebirth and regeneration, the popular image of the stork is that of Nature's purveyor of bundled offspring. Birthmarks on the head of a newborn were referred to as the stork ‘bites’, the sign of a novice carrier bird!

Committed to the family, it was said that no self-respecting stork would nest on a house marked by marital breakdown. In the north-east of France, the image of the stork was tied to the very land itself, following the annexation of Alsace-Lorraine by the Germans, after the French defeat in the Franco-Prussian war of 1871.

Known by its Latin form in the majority of the Romance languages (eg cigogne in French), the English word 'stork' finds its origins in old German. Although renowned as a creature of habit and instinct, the stork has proved itself able to adapt to circumstances, reinventing itself with surprisingly modern means. For centuries, it has always lived in relatively close proximity to Man, largely protected from the latter’s hunting instinct by its reputation as a beast of good omen. 

Spired churches and chimneys have always been nesting grounds of predilection for storks, often improved by special structures, such as old cartwheels, to help the building withstand the added load of such weighty nests and to help the bird gain stability. Despite this benevolent human intervention, the stork has chosen to lead its own independent, slightly aloof existence in these shared spaces. 

However, over the last decades, the stork, rather like the cool, crafty urban fox, has become more dependant on Man’s activities for its own mode of existence, thus changing ingrained patterns of behaviour that had, until quite recently, formed the basis of its life. 

With its powerful wings, tipped with black-fingered feathers, its distinctive flapping and soaring movement when in flight, the stork is perfectly equipped to carry out the migratory marathon from Europe to Africa, for which it is renowned. Leaving the northern territories as the temperatures drop, the stork sets off on a southward journey to wintering locations in the warmer climates, following inherited routes, migration corridors and stopover sites. It uses air thermals to soar and glide, thus economizing wing movement and hence body fat reserves for energy. In fact, the stork avoids crossing over the Mediterranean itself, since the required currents do not form over water... Since the 1980s, however, this migratory movement has been modified, and the stork now appears able to avoid such forms of long-haul travel.

During the programmes to breed storks in captivity in order to boost populations, migratation was suppressed. However, the gradual alteration or complete suppression of migratory movement witnessed over recent years has more diverse causes. The loss or impoverishment of traditional habitat and food sources due to agriculture and/or urbanisation has led the stork to seek other areas in which to forage.

By nature a carnivorous bird, the stork consumes a range of small creatures living around wet zones ;  fish, amphibians, reptiles, insects, birds and mammals. Whilst areas offering such prey are diminishing, vast expanding landfill sites are proposing a wider menu to our feathered friends. Indeed, the stork appears to have developed a taste for junk food that stems from our own and mirrors our appetite in an uncanny manner.

Just as many sun-deprived Brits opt for the sunny climes of Spain and Portugal to overwinter, growing numbers of storks are following suit, and are therefore ditching Africa in favour of closer destinations. These indeed offer a reliable fast-food supply and could even become permanent places of residence to the savvier stork. It should be supposed that there will be a price to pay for this low-cost lifestyle choice ; health issues will surely arise, perhaps even an avian form of obesity. Whilst mortality rates from the arduous trek to the African continent will be less dramatic, over-population and the trickle-down impact on many levels of the eco-system is likely to bring other consequences. The imminent closure of landfills, as requested by EU directives, will suddenly mean that binge-eating storks will be left with nowhere to go. In addition, they will have limited means to fly off to new horizons as their flight ability may well have been weakened by their unhealthy living model. As a gregarious creature, living in colonies, large numbers of storks will have to be relocated, away from these garbage communities.

When seeing the cigognes of Hunawihr, I was blissfully unaware of this particular set of man-made problems that has stuck itself onto this animal species. You can only be thankful that such conservation programmes exist today. So, the visitor gets to see the birds going about their business, as they always have, yet from a better vantage point. In this way, you can observe the adults feeding their young by the typical regurgitation process (think ‘fishy Exorcist’), roosting birds preening themselves and grooming fellow nest-dwellers (‘allopreening’), birds communicating by bill clattering and head nodding. 

The family unit is fairly close. The breeding adults are monagamous, but do not not necessarily stay paired for life; whilst together they share the parenting tasks. Both adults make the nest, incubate the typical clutch of four eggs for around a month, feed the young hatchlings until they reach fledging stage and leave the nest, approximately two months after emerging from their eggs. The male will return to the same nest for several years, rather like that other great migrant bird, the swallow. Here at the centre, visitors have the privilege of seeing the young birds, and noting their progress in terms of size and plumage development. Adult birds have the white body and ruff feathers, black wing coverts and those striking red legs and bills, whose colour largely derives from their diet, like the flamingo.

And the very young birds are truly very cute – all fluffy, with those unbelievably big feet!

Purple and Green - And a Great Day for Ducks...

Well, it hasn't stopped raining for two days now... While everybody is looking sullen and sun-deprived, everything is looking soggy and everywhere is simply sodden, I try to say to myself what I always used to rattle off to the children when they were small: "It's a great day for ducks"...

 

 After all, everything is very green... But all the things that are normally airborne now look too wet to fly...

Damp dandelion clock

 I am beginning to wonder if even our feathered friends can also have just too much of the wet stuff, and perhaps want to escape from it all like the rest of us...

A solitary survivor.

The weather forecast for the next week isn't good, for man or beast alike! The last time I saw real sunshine was a few weeks ago, during a brief trip to England.

Clematis

That should dispel any illusion that the conditions on the Continent are any better than those in Britain - and I'd say that this year the grass is literally very green on both sides of the Channel.

A duck drying out...

However I do also keep coming across the colour purple, or rather shades of lilac... mostly with raindrops... From the elegant irises, the majestic jacaranda trees, dense wisteria draping down walls and trellises and the unassuming lilac bushes....

Jacaranda tree, just outside my place of work...

Many of these smell beautiful, but only if you haven't got your nose, or beak, tucked away from the cold...

Double trouble...

So, all in all, there are still many things to be found and admired, on condition that you have an umbrella and in my case at the moment, a good pair of wellies!

Wisteria

Even the larger birds seem to follow the more humble ones...

A regal swan 

 Preened plumage, delicated arranged...

Blackthorn (I think)...

 Belonging to resident birds or visiting ones...

Canadian goose

The ruffled feathers of some of the birds look a little like petals themselves...

Iris

These all are spread out as the birds cluster together in strange formations...

A pyjama party

The plumage looks so soft that I want to touch it. And the colours so subtle, like some of the foliage and flowers around at present.

Lilac

And then of course you will get those brazen birds who just have no discretion whatsoever, come rain or shine, but just look at those feathers...

A cock-sure starling!