A Beautiful Bounty of Birds

The fine feathers and detailed hues that characterize our feathered friends lend themselves to replication with needles and colorful threads. Whether free form machine embroidery, hand stitching, or tufted or painted ….the avian world has been depicted in textiles for centuries. Skilled textile artists capture birds in action in the natural world, swooping in to nip a berry, or settle on a blade of grass, feed along a shoreline, or glide in space. Creators envision not only a creature in motion, but the exquisite details of their habitat, and execute them lovingly…..

“…The fruit of solitary fingers…”

The heraldic eagle, Persian hawk, Egyptian duck, Japanese crane, European grouse, Native American raven, Mexican rooster and parrot, Indian peacock, the Chinese phoenix…….these designs symbolize longevity, immortality, power, fertility, family, beauty, fortune…celebrating the seasons, indicating rank and power, celebrating auspicious days, and rejoicing in beauty.

These images illustrate the delicate balance between man and nature, and our own relationships with the environment. Right now, without all the air traffic, cars, boats, and people, we can expect to see an abundance of happy feathered fowl returning to their spring and summer homes.  Along the rivers, be on the lookout for herons, egrets, eagles, geese, cormorants, osprey, red wing blackbirds, the noisy kingfisher…mallard and wood ducks, pelicans, and of course the sparrow, grackles, doves, hummingbirds and cardinals that frequent our backyards.

Lines Written in Early Spring

by William Wordsworth

I heard a thousand blended notes, 
While in a grove I sate reclined, 
In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts 
Bring sad thoughts to the mind. 
To her fair works did Nature link 
The human soul that through me ran; 
And much it grieved my heart to think 
What man has made of man. 
Through primrose tufts, in that green bower, 
The periwinkle trailed its wreaths; 
And ’tis my faith that every flower 
Enjoys the air it breathes. 
The birds around me hopped and played, 
Their thoughts I cannot measure:— 
But the least motion which they made 
It seemed a thrill of pleasure. 
The budding twigs spread out their fan, 
To catch the breezy air; 
And I must think, do all I can, 
That there was pleasure there. 
If this belief from heaven be sent, 
If such be Nature’s holy plan, 
Have I not reason to lament 
What man has made of man?

—Source: The Longman Anthology of Poetry (Pearson, 2006)

Note With the Gift of a Bird’s Nest

We watched them weaving it, pulling our long strands
Out of the hairnet hung on a bush, the bush tits
As small as wrens, mixing our mingled combings
With moss and spiderwebs they’d gathered while clinging
Upside down, chirping in wind and rain.
We should have been ashamed of ourselves at such
Barefaced sentiment, a Victorian notion
Fit for the Mauve Decade when human hair
Was braided and crocheted in doilies and bracelets,
Framed around Loved Ones, plumped into doll cushions,
Kept cool in the bosoms of pale ladies’ lockets,
Or curled in the gold nests of gentlemen’s watches.
But those two tiny gifted completely
Admirable birds, day after April day,
Kept threading my silver threads among your gold,
As embarrassing as the very idea
Might sound in years to come or decades to go.
They hatched eight young ones in this rain proof lovely
Hanging basket, surrounded by part of us,
Not worried at all, all summer, by our poor taste
Or literary lapses like this in which I can say
By the hair of our heads and the work of their beaks,
     I love you.

—Poem by David Wagoner 1980,  Source: Poetry Foundation