‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  It was early spring. Three small eggs lay in a nest warmed by the mother bird’s down. Through the hours and days,’ ‘  soundless and unmoving, she maintained her vigil on the clutch.’  Her plain brown colour so blended with her background that she was barely visible.’  It was her mate that to himself, attracted all attention. Completely black, except for a bright orange beak, he perched now here now there, deliberately visible and sang.
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  His chains of sound were so beautiful, so spontaneous, that many a human ear may well have been enthralled. The wood was home to many families of blackbirds and their singing filled the air with a magical sound.
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  Covered with a soft grey down and unsteady on their feet, the chicks’™ first instinct was for food. The male immediately left the high branches and began foraging deep among the leaves of yester- year for grubs and other delicacies. From time to time he would stop his foraging and announce his presence with wonderful chains of sound.
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  The chicks developed quickly changing from day to day.’  Even at this early stage the behaviour of one could be noticed to be different to that of his brother or sister. Shohar’  was constantly listening for the sound of his father’s song.’  When he heard it, his body moved with it. He found himself carried away by its elegance.’  For him they held a fascination. He found in them meaning and beauty. At times he would deliberately forego some delicacy from his mother remaining entranced.
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  His siblings teased Shohar about his odd behaviour, but he didn’t mind. ‘˜All they think of are food and sleep,’™ he thought to himself..’  ‘˜What can they know of other wonderful things.’  They just cannot understand.’™
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  At the end of three weeks the chicks had become fledglings. Stretching their wings they prepared themselves for the great moment when they would take to the air and fly free, like their parents.’  Already a day had past that they had not had a bite.’  Hunger was forcing them to take steps on their own.
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  It was Shohar who, watched in fascination by his brother, left the branch first. With a quickened heart- beat, flapping vigorously, he soon found himself on the leafy floor of the wood some distance from their tree. There he happily began rummaging with his pale yellow beak, searching for grubs and snails to assuage a gnawing hunger.’  His sister, watching jealously, was quick to follow.’  Her flight became a jumble of wings, body and tail. She landed, somewhat dazed, but unhurt close by.’  She too’  began foraging among the fallen leaves for the scents and tastes she had come to recognise as a chick.’  Now their brother was quick to join them, landing with a little thud but unhurt on his breast.’  After some minutes the three took to the lower branches.’  There they preened themselves filled with an exhilarating feeling of being fledged and free.
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  In the following weeks, Shohar continued to listen to the males’™ songs with keen interest and delight. His turn to sing would come, however, only in the next spring.’  It seemed so long a time to wait.’  All summer, he arranged in his mind chains of song.’  Long and melodious they were, different to anything even he himself had heard. Others scoffed at his strange behaviour but he paid them scant attention. He would sit alone, but never lonely conjuring up new and unknown chains of song.’  When his turn came to sing, he wanted to be the most outstanding of all.
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  The cluster of fine old oak trees served many birds and other small mammals to breed and to find food. The days of summer shortened;’  leaves turned’  yellow, then brown before fluttering to the forest floor.’  Finally, Shohar saw for the first time branches bare and naked.’  Stark and dark, their silhouettes seemed to be jabbing at a leaden sky.
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  Shohar then began in earnest to prepare for the long nights and cold of approaching winter.’  The first gusts came wet and cold and when a blanket of snow covered the ground finding food was hard. These were hard times for all.’ ‘  Winter passed slowly’  until, it seemed almost grudgingly, the sun began to appear. The days warmed up in a motion that seemed both to advance and’  retreat.’ 
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  Then a day came that was to change the life in the wood for ever. Harsh and hard sounds shattered the peace of the wood.’  Woodcutters with axe and rope began felling the fine old oaks. One after the other the trees crashed with a frightening and terrible sound. The band of men worked until they reached the last of the oaks.’  This they left, perhaps in memory of the lovely wood. The families of birds were stunned.
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  It was Shohar who was first to move. He perched on the highest branch of the tree; a branch that was just beginning to send out a thousand new shoots.’  A small, dark image silhouetted against a dull’  sky, he began to sing.
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  The sounds were strange to the cutters who heard:’  ‘œToo early, surely, for the dark song- bird?’ Quickly Shohar’s voice became firm and strong – and all was melancholy in its song. The men had never heard such sounds before, and stood quite still and listened in awe.
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  For some months after the sad episode, no sound was heard from Shohar. Many of the birds left the wood and found another place to nest, near or far.’  Just a few remained, Shohar with them, waiting for summer to come again.’  And when the tree was dressed in its finery, Shohar began once more to sing; his chains of sound so beautiful, anyone hearing was bound to listen.’  But this time his trills were meant for another’s ears, and she, how could she resist such a call?
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  The pair built their nest in the remaining great oak, and that year had two clutches. In each there was a litter of three.’ ‘  But when the leaves began to yellow and fall, Shohar was reminded of the wood of oaks he had known and, saddened, left the tree to his young, to find another place to make his home.
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  There, it’s still told by those who heard those sounds they were sure no blackbird would ever make again.’  And in their joy at the dark- bird’s song, they brought others who listened long. Some swore they heard a sadness too, never knowing how their thoughts were true.’ 
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  Another then stopped. Such sounds from a blackbird? Could this be true?’  And the sounds, he was sure, seemed so sad; the most touching he had ever heard.’  A composer of melodies, he had never heard such sweet notes. They filled his mind – his soul.’  He was enchanted then inspired. The strings of sound rained down upon him like tinted droplets from a rain-bow.’  In his imagination he began to form new phrases. Phrases he had never known. So many they were, they’  flowed and filled his heart and mind.
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  Hurrying home, he began to pen melodies new to the ears of men. Sonatas and poems and symphonies too, and never a man there was that knew the source for such a spring. Like rivers and streams and brooks they flowed ‘“ and all who heard, wondered. His passages sang of gallantry, of wars and love and pageantry, his music spoke of peace of mind, of sadness too, and rivers that wind. The notes sometimes were as still as the wind’s whispered secrets upon the hill.
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‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  ‘œA man, proud, aloof,’ said those jealous of his works and in his sadness his years were short. Yet his music ever will be heard and who’™d ever guess – from the heart of a bird!?
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  ‘˜Sad? No, surely!’™
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  Most who heard vowed the songs were gay and told the tale of a lovely summer’s day.’ 
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‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  Mozart’  (1756-1791)’  died destitute and almost friendless.
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  Written on the 200th anniversary of his death -1991.’ ‘ 
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‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  The Blackbird’s Song.
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‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  A blackbird sang to me today,
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  It had so many things to say!
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  “Spring is here, and what is more,
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  I’ve’  much to do – so many a chore.
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  Marking territory – my song for this,
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  Back to my spouse for a flirt and a kiss,
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  Here and there, showing my best,
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  And gathering twigs and string for the nest.
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  Then came another and attentively heard
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  This joyous song from the heart of a’  bird.
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  He turned to me and his soul was full,
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  “How sweet the song – how beautiful,
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  ‘˜Twould seem he sings of paradise,
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  Of Eden and streams, of worms and spice.
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  His notes rain down like honey dew
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  From a rainbow – just for me and you’,
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  Thus spoke the man – then both were gone,
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  And I left standing there alone.