'cause I like .....

..... birds

I can't look at the rocket launch
The trophy wives of the astronauts
And I won't listen to their words
'Cause I like
Birds

I don't care for walkin' downtown
Crazy auto-car gonna mow me down
Look at all the people like cows in a herd
Well, I like
Birds

If you're small and on a search
I've got a feeder for you to perch on

I can't stand in line at the store
The mean little people are such a bore
But it's alright if you act like a turd
'Cause I like
Birds

If you're small and on a search
I've got a feeder for you to perch on
Birds by the Eels

This is what 5.49am looked like some where south of Skibbereen at Knockataggart where I wandered the small lanes and fields, clipboard in hand feeling virtuous if bleary-eyed and a bit chilly, attempting to record all the birds I saw or heard. I do this twice a year for my sins and this is the second survey for this year. It also happens to be National Dawn Chorus Day. The birds were out in force - a huge amount of warbling. I'm not very good on little beige warblers - if in doubt - willow warbler. Well there were willows and there were warblings. Other birds I saw included: robins, wrens, blackbirds, song thrush, pied wagtails, jackdaws, crows, hoodies, pigeons, starlings, swallows, house martens, long tailed tits, great tits, blue tits, dunnocks, pheasants, chiffchaff, tons of willow warblers, gulls, goldcrests, goldfinches, and all the time the cuckoo cucked away on the hillside.
These are other things I saw going, coming and during:
a young hare careening on the road in front of me
a field full of frisky young bullocks who played grandmother's footsteps, sneaking up on me and freezing the moment I looked at them
a large black dog who lifted a head and thumped his tail as I went by
a man with a cart collecting all the rubbish in Skib, and there was plenty, mostly chip papers
 three lads in red tops waiting for a lift to take them to their match
a bald woman clutching five baguettes to her ample chest
a row of cows ambling down towards the farm ready to be milked
a small graveyard with waist high grasses and bluebells
an austere and lonely ruined house
I was home by 9am. is it bedtime yet?

I like Birds - sing along, you've got the words