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# / Author
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I
Hugh Bygott
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Coming in from the sea:
this mysterious longing —
albatrosses return.
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Zhanna and I invite subscribers to add to this sequence of bird haiku. The idea is that the next poem links with some idea of the preceding one. The only common element is the presence of a bird species.
My poem has been influenced by the research of British scientists who have electronically tagged albatrosses. One remarkable finding is that some birds circumnavigate the world flying over very large expanses of ocean. The British Antarctic Survey tagged birds on Bird Island, South Georgia, Antarctica.
I have imagined birds coming in to breed in the late summer. In world wide haiku, the kigo is always difficult. The tagging of birds was done in April in the Southern Hemisphere before the birds moved elsewhere. HB |
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II
Zhanna P. Rader
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Mockingbird's song . . .
My thoughts dart to the land
of nightingales.
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There are no mockingbirds in Russia (and in Europe), and there are no nightingales in the USA (and in Americas). Zhanna
Zhanna, I think your haiku is both original and inspirational. In Japanese Literature, the nightingale is joyous, but in Greek Classical Literature the song can be sad. The sorrowing nightingale was Procne, an Athenian princess whom the gods had changed into a nightingale which would forever lament the death of her son, Itys. I will be away for two days at an English university where my youngest son has been offered a place to study Japanese. I hope other subscribers will join in this Bird Haiku Series. HB |
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III
Hugh Bygott
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There in the darkness:
these sounds that come from the night —
the sad nightingale.
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IV
Craig Mclanachan
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out in the bay
flight of a lone gannet ~
the perfect dive
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V
Zhanna P. Rader
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Dry grass in beak —
the wren looks both ways
before flying to its nest.
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| A note: on adding your haiku, please erase the top one, so that we would always have just four haiku in the post. Zhanna |
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VI
Hugh Bygott
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Unseasonal rain —
fragments of the grebe's nest
silhouette the moon.
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| Zhanna, I have imagined a lake reflecting the moon. In still waters after the storm nests hang precariously on the reeds. HB |
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VII
Zhanna P. Rader
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Overnight wet snow
white-washes a southern town —
puzzled robins.
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| Or should I say "puzzled-looking robins"? That's how they looked. :) Those are American robins (that are very much different from the European robins). They "sprinkled" the snow-covered ground, unable to get their worms, and looking at each other, as if asking, "What happened?" Zhanna |
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VIII
Ed Schwellenbach
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rolling fog —
a colony of gulls
haunting the breakwater
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IX
Hugh Bygott
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After the rain,
strutting around the fresh pools:
blue-horn'd pheasants.
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| I am enjoying all these wonderful bird haiku. I can see all those birds. It's like seeing a painting. Zhanna |
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X
Zhanna P. Rader
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A black-capped chickadee
drinks from an azalea leaf —
morning fog.
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XI
Hugh Bygott
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Low tide . . .
The guillemots take flight, startled,
red gapes against dark rocks.
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I agree Zhanna, bird haiku often have a flash of colour and degrees of light as if the poems could be painted. HB
I had in mind the black guillemots which only seem to sing or call in the Spring. I imagined black feathers and the cliff face dark rocks where the birds were nesting. The red inside their throats is quite distinctive. I think an illustrated book of bird haiku is quite a possibility. HB
Can you visualize an illustrated book for children (and adults) with all these haiku about birds? :) Zhanna |
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XII
Zhanna P. Rader
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Look at the Great Auks —
only eighty one of them are left,
all stuffed.
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XIII
Hugh Bygott
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Arctic storms —
the Little Auks cluster in white:
a unity of many.
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I have realised that often in classical haiku there is only a single bird. I wonder if anyone can recall a flock of birds in Basho or Issa? HB
Dear Hugh san
Do a google advanced search on "Basho birds" and you'll find a few. keigu
ai... chibi |
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XIV
Zhanna P. Rader
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A lake bank —
two Canada geese
wade the fog.
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| (Anyone can join the link. Zh.) |
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XV
Hugh Bygott
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Last grey winter days —
a Stonechat darts from place to place,
her orange breast so bright.
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XVI
Zhanna P. Rader
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Bright red on white —
you'd think it'll burn a hole in the snow,
the cardinal.
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XVII
Hugh Bygott
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Elegant in the dusk . . .
Are they inseparable?
Blue-horn'd pheasant pairs.
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Zhanna, as I understand it, pheasants originally came from China. They are certainly found in Tibet, Sichuan in China, and Assam in India. I see a problem here. I have only seen an albatross at a distance. My knowledge comes from reading of other peoples' experiences and lookng at photographs. Thus I have only read of Grey-headed albatrosses and Tibetan blue-horned pheasants. Purists may say that haiku cannot be composed in this way. However, Buson thought otherwise, and Shiki praised him. Buson had never seen or experienced kappa, the mythical beast, yet he composed haiku about kappa. Tibetan blue-horned pheasants do exist. HB
Hugh, I searched for Tibetan birds, and found a so-called blue-eared pheasant (crossoptilon auritum). I looked into my multi-language dictionary of birds. There are 37 pheasants mentioned in it, the blue-eared one including, however there was no blue-horned pheasant there. But look here:
http://tinyurl.com/64xgj
I think that is it though, since the long feather tufts both sides of the head look like horns. Thus people may call them "blue-horned pheasants", even if it is not their real name. We surely can write our haiku relying not only on our observation, but also on research. Zhanna |
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XVIII
Zhanna P. Rader
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Winter dusk —
a great horned owl sends
its mating hoots.
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| They mate in winter. I tried to find blue-horned pheasants on the Internet, but found none, unfortunately. Zhanna |
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XIX
Hugh Bygott
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Sunlit shallows —
here and there a Shrike darts forth
mirror'd in spring waters.
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XX
Zhanna P. Rader
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Blue jay —
the up and down sway
of the birch branch.
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XXI
H. Gene Murtha
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mid-May
an oriole draws me
up the tree
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XXII
Zhanna P. Rader
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A kitten —
the catbird's
frantic "meow!"
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XXIII
Hugh Bygott
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Spring's newly born —
a Hawk, buffet'd in high winds,
sights its prey.
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XXIV
Zhanna P. Rader
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The peck-peck-peck
and just the flicker's tail
above my window.
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XXV
Hugh Bygott
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One after another
the Flamingos have settled:
a strange winter farewell.
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| This is a vivid memory in my mind. It was January 1983 at Ueno Zoo in Tokyo. A mass of pink-grey flamingos had come to rest. With my daughter aged 14 and my son aged 11 we had visited the zoo in company with Naoko Takayama who had been their nurse after my wife died six years before. Memories often form the inspiration for haiku. I have used the punctuation mark [ : ] to correspond to the kireji terminator -keri in the classical renga and haiku, leaving [ - ] to correspond to the kireji ya. HB |
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XXVI
Zhanna P. Rader
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Red maple —
where's the cardinal
that flew into it?
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XXVII
Hugh Bygott
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In the late dusk
old nests have new occupants . . .
Red-footed falcons.
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XXVIII
Zhanna P. Rader
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A heron —
you'd think him a statue
. . . then a frog
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| Zhanna, you have an interesting innovation here. Kireji, which was essential to the classical Japanese haiku, has been largely abandoned in modern haiku. With it has gone the obliqueness and the contrast of the universal with the particular. The result is that haiku are often presented as simple empirical sentences so missing the art of haiku. HB |
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XXIX
Hugh Bygott
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Traces of blossom —
the Stonechat is just visible
... the Spring dusk.
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| I love this haiku. Zhanna |
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XXX
Zhanna P. Rader
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Solstice dawning —
the red-headed woodpecker
gives the eaves a voice.
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(waking me up in the morning :) Zhanna
Zhanna, I think Basho and Buson would have appreciated this one. HB |
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XXXI
Hugh Bygott
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Swaying in the sun,
it copies the bird on the Chinese screen —
a Willow-warbler.
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XXXII
Zhanna P. Rader
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Early morning —
a flycatcher pulls dead bugs
from spider webs.
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XXXIII
Hugh Bygott
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Insects in Spring flight —
oh what little chance they have
against the tireless Swift!
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These are excellent haiku, Hugh and Zhanna!
robert wilson |
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XXXIV
Zhanna P. Rader
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April winds —
the strutting peacock
blown over.
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XXXV
Hugh Bygott
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After the storm,
they are returning to the sky —
the temple ravens.
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XXXVI
Zhanna P. Rader
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Woven
into the wind-chime tinkle
a whippoorwill's call.
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| Zhanna, this haiku has a lovely sound. In the tradition of haiku, it suggests something beyond the words. HB |
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XXXVII
Hugh Bygott
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Cries above deep waves,
Kittiwakes calling their own name —
only the ocean hears.
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This species of seagull is truly pelagic, the birds spending much of their lives over the deep ocean. My haiku follows a report that British Royal Marines went down a cliff-face today to set up permanent cameras to watch the behaviour of Kittiwake seagulls, an endangered species which breed in colonies on cliff-ledges. HB
That is very interesting! A real good haiku too. Zh. |
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XXXVIII
Zhanna P. Rader
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Strong wind —
a ruffled red-winged blackbird
holds to the pasture fence.
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XXXIX
Hugh Bygott
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A Stonechat in song —
ceasing it flies to my chair . . .
a departed friend?
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XL
Zhanna P. Rader
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Thick swamp —
an ivory-billed woodpecker
flies in front of the canoe!
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This bird thought to be extinct for 60 years has been rediscovered in Arkansas. It has been spotted at least seven times in the last 15 months in the Cache River National Wildlife Refuge in Central Arkansas.
See the article in The New York Times, April 29, 2005, page A18. The bayou where the woodpecker was sighted is in thick swamp. See also:
http://tinyurl.com/acwk6 Click on the picture to enlarge it.
Those are just lovely, Zhanna! I really wanted to thank you for mentioning that species of woodpecker, because there was a special on it the other day. I got everything but the name! Ivory (muffled) woodpecker... 3' wingspan, right?
monica |
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XLI
Hugh Bygott
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A thrush in hiding —
just a glimpse of her white ankle,
as the lady walks by.
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XLII
Zhanna P. Rader
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A crow's one peck
at the liver — the toad
swells and explodes
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Please read:
http://tinyurl.com/crdnl
Those Germany crows are quite smart.
They peck at toads' liver real hard.
The toads' self-defense
Of swelling makes sense . . .
Alas, it then tears them apart.
***
Perhaps, you have heard now that those
Mass toad blasts were caused by some crows.
They peck at the liver
And make the toad shiver
And blow up. . . and then decompose.
Zhanna P. Rader
Zhanna, I commend your willingness to experiment. English language haiku require pauses which are periods of silence. Japanese haiku are continuous flows of sound, the kireji marking the change of direction. In your poem you have established a causal sequence, an implication. I like this internal dash. HB |
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XLIII
Hugh Bygott
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In the low sky, a V
now emerges from the sun —
a Marsh harrier.
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XLIV
Zhanna P. Rader
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Rocky Mountains —
a raven announces
a new day.
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XLV
Hugh Bygott
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A Storm petrel,
envious of the hovering hawk,
stalls in the high winds.
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Marsh harrier Circus aeruginosus Zhanna, as you know, harriers are long-winged and long-tailed birds of prey. The marsh harrier flies low over open fields and marshes. Birds of this particular species hold their wings in a wide V. A head-on silhouette is a very impressive sight. HB
Yes. Each time you introduce a new bird, I look it up on the Internet. This time, you've "killed" two birds with one haiku. :)Now I need to see a storm petrel. Zh. |
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XLVI
Zhanna P. Rader
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Stillness before rain...
a sparrow hunts for mites
amongst its feathers.
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XLVII
Hugh Bygott
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Splash and silence,
water and sky are above ...
a gannet.
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XLVIII
Zhanna P. Rader
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Winter dusk —
pelican silhouettes
on the wharf.
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XLIX
Hugh Bygott
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Cormorants sit
silently in supplication . . .
how solemn!
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L
Zhanna P. Rader
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Spring greenery —
a blue jay pecks
at mourning dove's eggs.
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