City Bird

Welcome letter from Tom Nisbet, R.H.A., painter, wordsmith and poet, also a long-time writer of letters to this newspaper.

Welcome letter from Tom Nisbet, R.H.A., painter, wordsmith and poet, also a long-time writer of letters to this newspaper.

Thanks for taking me into the country, if only by proxy; it's a relief from the murders, rapes and horny theologists of the news. I used to enjoy short breaks in the Green when I worked nearby - often rewarding. One still, summer morning I was privileged to witness the full "ballet" of swans mating behaviour, exquisite! Mallards in season are quite improper and it's not uncommon for drake and drake to get together with manifestation of mutual pleasure; bad example, I suppose. I was touched by the spectacle of a Muscovy duck taking care of a mallard's extended family and heard an American lady remark that she - the mallard - must be very rich to be able to afford a Nanny. A friend thought the Muscovy may have lost her own brood and taken over the mothering of another's to compensate. And of course gulls, lots of gulls, always hungry and cruel. It was amusing to see them skating for crusts on a frozen lake, but I never liked them in town, however marvellous they may be, idly "floating" on wind currents at Moher or cawling contentedly at a small harbour. So let me comment on

City Bird

This is no way for a gull

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to live

With angry bunches

Screaming over people's lunches.

This is no way for a gull

to live,

Diving on dust bins

Scrounging tips.

Scavenge all day and

screech and hate

Then homeward glide

In long V eight

And all the time his

dearest wish

To take a few days off,

And fish.

Tom Nisbet

His address, by the way, is Bird Avenue, Dublin.

Correction: Languedoc, in the South of France, appeared as Languedoo in yesterday's "In Time's Eye".