Ever since we moved to Europe in 1992, I have loved the blackbirds (cousins of the American robin). They are jet black with golden bills and are quite dignified. At the end of the day they usually sit on the top branch of a tree or TV antenna or roof crest and sing their hearts out. Their song is perhaps a little forlorn, coming as a solo as the dusk settles. But, it is also warm and true. This is the very short story of an especially loud blackbird.

Le merle noir

In our first apartment, just outside of Paris, I loved to sit on our little balcony on the building’s inner courtyard and enjoy the evening calm. This was generally accompanied by the song of the resident blackbird (le merle noir). The French composer Olivier Messiaen wrote a chamber music piece for flute and piano based on this song (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cwDmDTjrBNA).

London chanter

Now we are resident in London’s Royal Borough of Greenwich. Here, two days ago at the end of a walk, I was heading back home. Coming through a very tiny park of trees known as Catherine Grove, I spied a loud blackbird hidden in amongst the branches.

He was there across the street singing with all the power and style that he could muster. Though filled with enthusiasm, he hadn’t figured out that the best effect is to do so from on high. He’ll learn.

In the meantime, I was grateful for this contribution from nature to helping the neighbourhood manage the stress of these crazy days. — at Greenwich, April 2020.