SJT and Poetry Friday: Wintering

This month's SJT theme, from our host Kim, is Wintering. I read Katherine May's book by that title last year. In the book, winter is a metaphor for difficult times (it's there in the subtitle, "The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times"), but it's also a literal season. Katherine May hibernates, reads differently from the way she does in summer, and even swims in icy cold water. Here's a quote from the book: "However it arrives, wintering is usually involuntary, lonely, and deeply painful. Yet it’s also inevitable. We like to imagine that it’s possible for life to be one eternal summer and that we have uniquely failed to achieve that for ourselves. We dream of an equatorial habitat, forever close to the sun, an endless, unvarying high season."  

 

I only have one problem with the book. While I appreciate a good metaphor, and I love thinking about seasons and vicariously enjoying them through friends' postings on social media, I live near to the equator, in Kampala, Uganda. I really do have that "equatorial habitat" of the quote. I reflected on this back in 2019 from another tropical home. It's not that there aren't seasons, but winter really isn't one of them. Right now it's the rainy season, and I bundle up in a cardigan every morning, but today there was a high of 85 degrees Fahrenheit (29 Celsius), so it wasn't exactly cold. (Even if it were, I assure you that I would not swim in icy water like Katherine May.) When you live in the tropics, sadness and melancholy, as well as joy and delight, are accompanied by bright blue skies and warm temperatures. Life isn’t a constant beach vacation, wherever you live. The equator, that nearby imaginary line, doesn’t cross out grief; every part of the planet is filled with people who feel all the same emotions, whatever the weather. You have to find a different metaphor here, because winter isn’t coming. Still, as the book suggests, I need to rest, be kind to myself, recognize that my energy fluctuates and take a break. That's why I put aside the ninth grade exams I was grading and worked on this post instead. I decided to write a haibun, using some winter photos sent by friends from the US earlier this week.

 

Photo Credit: Matsu

Wintering

How surprised and shocked we’d be if a sudden snowfall covered our bougainvillea and our jacaranda tree, here in our tropical garden! Friends seven thousand miles away sent photos of how it looks when seasons clash, chilling bright blooms. So tonight we’ll hibernate in spirit, looking at the cold they have shared with us, who don’t have our own. We’ll drink hot tea, imagining that bare feet on the cool tile floor are actually freezing. We’ll turn on a fan and sleep under a blanket.

Snow engulfs roses
In a garden far away
A borrowed winter  

©Ruth Bowen Hersey

Our Poetry Friday roundup this week will be at Carol's place.

Poetry Friday: My world, your world, our world, and Roundup

Welcome to Poetry Friday! I'm happy to be hosting you from Kampala, Uganda. Today I am using the November SJT (Spiritual Journey Thursday) prompt. SJT is supposed to be the first Thursday of the month; I am therefore over two weeks late in responding. This month's prompt came from Linda Mitchell and it was "My world, your world, our world." I hope she doesn't mind me borrowing it for my hosting gig. Share your world with us by leaving your link in the comments. I'm on East African Time, and it may take me a minute to get to the rounding up part, but I'll do it (the old-fashioned way) as fast as I can. I have comment moderation enabled, so you won't see your comment immediately. And finally, I have had quite a few complaints lately that people aren't able to comment. I apologize in advance if that happens to you. If you have my email address (I know that many Poetry Friday friends do), you can email me and I'll put up your link.

We all live in the same world, right? No, we really don't. Even if we are from a similar background and live on the same street, the way we experience our daily life may be completely different. And if we live in different countries, or have different pasts, or different immigration status, or even if I slept well last night and you were up with a screaming baby, we may have almost no commonalities between us. This can cause problems. We may find it hard to relate to people whose worlds hardly overlap with our own. People in the US got a reminder earlier this month of how different our worlds are, as voters on both sides wondered: how could half of the country think in a way so diametrically opposed to the way I do?

 

But being from different worlds can also be a source of great richness and beauty. One of the reasons I love reading a good novel is that it can draw me into the world of a character who isn't like me. It takes me out of my own head and helps me see in a new way. And in our relationships, we can share our worlds with others. My husband and I grew up in two different countries. Throughout our long marriage, we have shared elements of the cultures that informed our upbringing, as well as sharing the worlds where we've lived together (like Haiti, whose horrendous suffering we continue to watch, but from a distance now). Many years ago, I got to visit the country where he lived as a child. And at the beginning of this month, he finally got to visit mine. I took the photo at my childhood school in Kenya. I'm so thankful to have it as one of the places I love, and I'm so thankful that I've spent time on five continents, and seen many of the worlds on our great big planet.

 

My world, your world, our world

There’s just one spot on this earth
That saw the moment of my birth.
But I love so many places,
Take joy in so many faces.
My favorite? Don’t make me choose.
There isn’t one I want to lose.
The sky looks down from way up there
On my worlds, your worlds, ours to share.

 

©Ruth Bowen Hersey
 

Good Friday morning from a very rainy Kampala! One post came in when it was still Thursday, and then others overnight, so I'm starting the day by starting the roundup while it's still dark.

Linda, the source of today's prompt, got here first, and she is sharing a new book by Maria Popova called The Universe in Verse. It looks gorgeous, and Linda gives us a sample page about an octopus and living "wonder-smitten." Plus she has her own poem in response! 

Jama also has a new book for us, this one a picture book called Grand Old Oak and the Birthday Ball. The post isn't there yet, so I'll be going back later to check it out! 

Robyn has two fun poems in a new anthology, Clara’s Kooky Compendium of Thimblethoughts and Wonderfuzz, and she shares them with us. They are both full of wordplay and would be great to read with kids!

Tabatha has a Wendy Cope poem for us. Although I'm in hasty roundup mode, I had to click through and read the rest of it, and I was glad I had! 

Alan is reading a Billy Collins anthology of short poems called Musical Tables. (I don't know if it's new, but I haven't heard of it before -- I definitely want to check it out!) As if that wasn't enough, Alan also shares three of his own terrific short poems!

Jone knows that I always have trouble getting on her blog from my Ugandan network. Her comment and email both came through fine, but the link she sent doesn't take me anywhere. It will work for you, though! It looks as though she has some invitations today, and I sure wish I could see them!

Karen has a Rudy Francisco poem for us in video form. I can't wait to go back and watch it after I get done rounding up!

Matt is going to NCTE! I'm jealous, but then I'm not even an English teacher any more. He shares a video compilation of poems from Irene Latham and Charles Waters' anthology, The Mistakes that Made Us. It looks so good -- I can't wait to read it!

Well, I'm in my classroom now, and between the last paragraph and this one, there was some drama. It's not even seven yet, and I usually wouldn't be at school for about twenty more minutes, but my husband is going with some students on a little photography trip. In addition to our campus here in the city, we have some land called the Lakeside Campus. As its name suggests, it's right on Lake Victoria. Right now there isn't much on it in the way of buildings, but there are plans! Some students are going down to take pictures of it today for a calendar. I can't go because I have a very busy day in my classroom. We stopped on the way to school to get breakfast for everyone, and as we were pulling out from the bakery, in the rain with no visibility, my husband drove the car right into one of the deep and treacherous Kampala ditches. Our little car was immobilized, with the left front wheel deep in the ditch and the right back wheel at least a foot off of the ground. There was an enormous bang when we went down, so I was sure the car was also damaged. I climbed out the driver's side and my husband phoned for help, but before our colleague got there, a friendly stranger stopped and, with the help of several guys in rain gear, pushed us out. Our tough little RAV4 was fine and we went on our way. I've imagined going into one of those ditches since the first time I saw them, and now it has happened! 

Tiel Aisha Ansara doesn't post on Poetry Friday, but I love her poetry blog, and I have a tradition of linking to her every time I host. Her most recent posting is a wonderful bird poem, so you know I can't resist that, but I also have to link to "In Praise of Rain," given the weather conditions where I am this morning.

Carol has been doing Haiku for Healing, and she has several lovely haiku for us, paired with photos. Welcome, Carol!

Amy has a story poem about starting over and some advice about writing in the third person. I appreciated the very concrete event and the metaphor.

Rose is saying goodbye to autumn with a list poem packed with sensory details. I loved the mentor text she used, and Rose's poem makes a great mentor text, too! 

Irene wrote about a beautiful 20th century painting and found a poem about how it feels when a loved one comes back home. What a great feeling! 

Heidi, like me, is sad about missing NCTE, and she wrote a poem about it called "Beyond FOMO." There's always next year! 

Patricia is sharing a poem about madly searching for lost things. 

And now I'm waking up on Saturday morning. It's raining again. A few links came in overnight.

 

Molly is "kindling the light with small poems." She also has some of her gorgeous photography to go along with the poems. These are good ways to approach the darkness.

Carol has had a tough week, and she shares how she's coping. And one of those ways is with a sweet, fruity poem.

Margaret is reading and writing with her students. She's written an evocative poem about her place in the world, and she shares another by a sixth grader. Wow! I always love reading Margaret's students' work, and this one is remarkable.

Reading Update

Book #61 of the year was Amor Towles' short story collection Table for Two. I like his novels better, but there were some enjoyable stories here.

Book #62 was The Great Alone, by Kristin Hannah. I was fascinated by the portrayal of what it's like to live in rural Alaska.

Book #63 was The Identicals, by Elin Hilderbrand, a story of twins living on Martha's Vineyard and Nantucket.

Book #64 was Family Family by Laurie Frankel. An author's note says that Frankel wrote this to demonstrate that adoption isn't a second choice or something you settle for, but a beautiful way to make a family. I am paraphrasing because my library copy has disappeared off my Kindle already. I found this book very entertaining.

Book #65 was The Ministry of Time, by Kaliane Bradley. This was a time travel story in which I thought I knew exactly what was going on, until suddenly everything changed and I had to reevaluate everything. I love it when an author pulls that off. 

Book #66 was Real Americans, by Rachel Khong. I enjoyed this one a lot, too -- it asked interesting questions about nature and nurture.

Book #67 was Prince Across the Water, by Jane Yolen and Robert J. Harris. This was a historical novel about the events around the Battle of Culloden in Scotland. It was written for children, but I found it held my attention all the way through.

Book #68 was a re-read, Learning to Walk in the Dark, by Barbara Brown Taylor. I've blogged about it a lot before, including here.

Book #69 was Sandwich, by Catherine Newman. I find myself gravitating these days to books about people with adult children (I wonder why), and this was one such book. It was absorbing and thought-provoking.

Book #70 was One True Loves, by Taylor Jenkins Reid. The love of Emma's life disappears, and she finally moves on and gets engaged to someone else; then her first husband reappears. (This happens in the first chapter, so it isn't a spoiler.) What should Emma do?

Book #71 was The Lost Bookshop, by Evie Woods. I read this with my book club because one of us found it at a library sale for $1. We didn't enjoy it much, though our conversations about it were still great fun.

Book #72 was Rock Paper Scissors, by Alice Feeney. This wasn't at all my kind of book, being a suspenseful story where people are all lying to each other. I did like how the author pulled a twist I didn't see coming.

Poetry Friday: Birdtober 2024

Here are links to all the Birdtober poems I wrote in October. It was fun! I hope to do it again next year!

 

Day 1: Plush-crested Jay

Day 2: American Robin

Day 3: Mountain Bluebird

Day 4: Giant Kingfisher 

Day 5: Eastern Plantain-Eater 

Day 6: Red-winged Blackbird 

Day 7: Cardinals 

Day 8: Black-headed Heron 

Day 9: Gray Crowned-Crane 

Day 10: Speckled Mousebird

Day 11: Golden Swallow

Day 12: Red-billed Firefinch

Day 13: House Wren 

Day 14: White-necked Crow

Day 15: Red-headed Woodpecker

Day 16: Red-eyed Dove

Day 17: Rüppell's Starling

Day 18: House Sparrow

Day 19: Pink-backed Pelican

Day 20: Abyssinian Ground-Hornbill 

Day 21: Vervain Hummingbird

Day 22: Green Jay 

Day 23: Painted Bunting

Day 24: American Goldfinch

Day 25: Cedar Waxwing 

Day 26: Red-tailed Hawk 

Day 27: Striped Kingfisher 

Day 28: Mosque Swallow 

Day 29: Roseate Spoonbill 

Day 30: African Green-Pigeon 

Day 31: African Wood-Owl 

 

 

Patricia has today's roundup. 

Birdtober Day Thirty-One: African Wood-Owl

Day 31. I could write about a Burrowing Owl, which I've seen and loved, but I decided instead to write about the owl in my own yard here in Kampala. I mostly hear this species, but I've also seen it, in the Botanical Garden in Entebbe. 

Photo Source: eBird.com

Awake, 2 AM

Hoots menacing, comforting

You're awake too, owl

©Ruth Bowen Hersey

Birdtober Day Thirty: African Green-Pigeon

I love green birds. There's something so tropical about them. I haven't seen this species in a while, but I really enjoy them.  In the past I've seen them at school more than once. Listen to their sounds in the video below. (Bonus: there's also a Red-eyed Dove calling, starting halfway through the video; you can read about those sounds here.)

Photo Source: eBird.com

 

African Green-Pigeon

 

You are cute beyond belief;
Green, but noisier than a leaf.
Bluish eye and purple wing,
And that growly, cackly way you sing! 

©Ruth Bowen Hersey

One more day of Birdtober! See you tomorrow! 

Birdtober Day Twenty-Nine: Roseate Spoonbill

 Photo Source: eBird.com

Roseate Spoonbill

Bird of cotton candy pink.
bending down to get a drink,
using your bill like tongs in salad
and singing your weird, croaky ballad:
Milliners once sought your feathers,
but now your birdy get-togethers
are safe and calm; you may seek fish,
mollusks, crustaceans, what you wish.
You won’t be made into a hat,
and we can all be glad of that.

©Ruth Bowen Hersey

Birdtober Day Twenty-Eight: Mosque Swallow

I had really hoped to see a Mosque Swallow during our recent trip to Lake Mburo because it was one of the likely birds listed. Unfortunately, I did not see one. 

 

 A page from Birds of East Africa

I found this poem called "Masjid/Mosque," by Urdu poet Akhtar ul Iman. There's a swallow in the poem: 

Or a swallow, at the approach of winter,

Seeks the mosque out for making its nest;

And curling up for hours in the broken arch

Tells the story of cold countries.

The mosque in this poem is abandoned, and no longer used for worship. That fits with the Mosque Swallow, which, according to what I've read, prefers abandoned buildings if it chooses to nest in a building. It also likes hollow trees, particularly baobab trees. But the swallow in the poem can't be a Mosque Swallow, because they don't migrate from cold countries, though they sometimes move around based on where it is raining. I am starting to think, after mostly unsuccessfully hunting for references to swallows in mosques, that the name comes from an attempt to place these swallows geographically, since they are found in Africa and Asia, often in areas where mosques would be frequent. Swallows in general do have a reputation for nesting around humans, hence the name Barn Swallow. There's a reference in Psalm 84 to a swallow nesting in the temple: "Even the sparrow has found a home, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may have her young - a place near your altar, Lord Almighty, my King and my God. Blessed are those who dwell in your house; they are ever praising you" (Psalm 84:3-4).

Mosque Swallow

The swallow
has found
a home
in the abandoned
mosque.
She swoops
and
soars
to catch
termites,
makes
a chewed
clump of bugs
for her babies,
waiting for her
in their nest
of mud.
Blessed,
blessed
is she.

 

©Ruth Bowen Hersey

Birdtober Day Twenty-Seven: Striped Kingfisher

Today's calendar says "Artist's Choice," meaning that I have to choose what bird to write about. There are so many I could have picked. I decided I wanted to write about one of the lifers (birds seen for the first time) I've had this month. We have a week off in October, and my husband and I went to Lake Mburo, in Western Uganda. There are many species in that part of the country that we don't have here, and during that trip I got fifteen lifers. They were all exciting, but I decided to write about the Striped Kingfisher. On the 4th I told you that I had seen nine different kingfisher species (in three countries). While at Lake Mburo I saw my tenth! It was the Striped Kingfisher.

Photo Source: eBird.com

Striped Kingfisher
Halcyon chelicuti


Halcyon bird
of blue and brown,
my Kingfisher species
number ten:
welcome to my list
of treasures.
Outsiders found you in 1814
in Chelicut, Ethiopia,
but you’d been around long before.
They added you to their list
of treasures.
I found you in 2024,
when the guide pointed up at you
where you watched, impassive,
from your tree.
I know you don’t care,
but I sure enjoyed
seeing and hearing you,
Striped Kingfisher.

 

©Ruth Bowen Hersey

 

 

Here are the ten kingfisher species on my life list:

 

Belted Kingfisher - US

Ringed Kingfisher - Paraguay

Amazon Kingfisher - Paraguay

Green Kingfisher - Paraguay

Pied Kingfisher - Uganda

Woodland Kingfisher - Uganda

Malachite Kingfisher - Uganda

African Pygmy Kingfisher - Uganda

Giant Kingfisher - Uganda

Striped Kingfisher - Uganda 

Birdtober Day Twenty-Six: Red-tailed Hawk

I'll never forget the day I first saw a Red-tailed Hawk. In Haiti they call them Malfini, though a bit of Googling suggests that the Malfini is used in other places for the Broad-winged Hawk. We were out hiking in February of 2020, and we met a man who offered to show us a nest. I thought he meant a Palmchat nest, because I had been asking him questions about one of those, but when after a little bit of a walk he pointed upwards, an enormous head appeared in my binoculars' viewfinder. For a moment I thought there was something wrong with my eyes, since the head was so very much larger than what I had been expecting to see. And then a few minutes later, the bird I had seen and its mate whooshed down at us because we had come too close. Our guide introduced us to his employer, who lived in a house right nearby. We were invited in for mint tea, and our host teared up when he told us that the Red-tailed Hawk nesting within sight of his home was the best thing that had happened to him that year. The whole experience felt magical to my husband and me. It was one of the best things that happened to us that year. 

Protective parents
Dive-bomb human intruders
Screeching warningly 

©Ruth Bowen Hersey

Poetry Friday: Birdtober Day Twenty-Five: Cedar Waxwing

Here are my Birdtober posts so far:

 

Week 1 (October 1-4): (Plush-crested Jay, American Robin, Mountain Bluebird, Giant Kingfisher)

Week 2 (October 5 - 10): (Eastern Plantain-eater, Red-winged Blackbird, Cardinals, Black-headed Heron, Gray Crowned-Crane, Speckled Mousebird)

Week 3 (October 11-18): (Red-billed Firefinch, House Wren, White-necked Crow, Red-headed Woodpecker, Red-eyed Dove, Rüppell's Starling, House Sparrow)

Week 4:

Day 19: Pink-backed Pelican

Day 20: Abyssinian Ground-Hornbill 

Day 21: Vervain Hummingbird

Day 22: Green Jay 

Day 23: Painted Bunting

Day 24: American Goldfinch 

At most of these links you can find the prompts I'm using. 

 

Today's bird is the Cedar Waxwing. I've seen them eight times, in South Dakota, Kentucky, and Tennessee. They are such lovely birds. 

Photo Source: eBird.com

Cedar Waxwing

The natty Cedar Waxwings,
while always quite well-dressed
sometimes steal other birds’ supplies
when building a new nest.

They eat so much delicious fruit
that they get drunk on lunch
but also dine on flowers
or a bug or two to crunch.

They give small gifts while courting
and hang out after snacks.
They’re dapper in appearance,
with wings tipped, bright, with wax.

Disreputable bandits
yet charming, friendly fellows:
natty Cedar Waxwings
in grays and browns and yellows. 

©Ruth Bowen Hersey

 

Come back next week for links to all my 2024 Birdtober posts!  Carol has this week's roundup.

Birdtober Day Twenty-Four: American Goldfinch

Today I'm back to birds I've seen. The American Goldfinch is quite common all over the United States, and it's bright and beautiful. Interestingly, its scientific name is Spinus tristis. The second part means sad, and I read that it got that name because its call sounds sad. It doesn't sound sad to me; listen here and see what you think.

Photo Source: eBird.com

American Goldfinch

(Spinus tristis)

 

Are you sad, little goldfinch,
as your name suggests?
Are you sad,
flitting, bright yellow,
through warm places,
landing on feeders
and snacking on sunflower seeds,
brightening everyone’s day?
When you’re singing
“potato chip”
are those notes sad?
Hard to tell, little goldfinch.
Just like with people.

©Ruth Bowen Hersey

 

 

 

(Here's a post from 2022 about what goes through my mind when I see yellow and black birds here in East Africa.)

Birdtober Day Twenty-Three: Painted Bunting

Today's bird is another one I have never seen, though I would very much like to. eBird enthuses: "Incomparably beautiful songbird in which adult males are almost too colorful, with a jarring combination of rich blue head, bright red underparts, and lime green back." This description made me think of Edna St. Vincent Millay's line in her poem "God's World": "Lord I do fear/Thou'st made the world too beautiful this year." I wrote an excited poem to go along with all this high praise, and I didn't even edit out the exclamation marks as I usually would - they seemed appropriate for this guy.

Photo Source: eBird.com

Painted Bunting

Too beautiful, too colorful,
Too pretty little bird,
Too blue, too yellow, green, and red,
Too bright, almost absurd!
Painted Bunting, you’re too much!
You really overwhelm!
As though you came down to this tree
From a quite different realm! 

©Ruth Bowen Hersey

Birdtober Day Twenty-Two: Green Jay

So far this month, all my posts have been about birds I've seen. But one of the fun parts about Birdtober is learning about species I haven't seen or even heard of. And the Green Jay is a spectacular bird!

Photo Source: eBird.com

Green Jay


Blue, green, yellow suit
Southerner in thorny nest
Tough survivor bird

 

©Ruth Bowen Hersey

There are lots more interesting facts here - far too many for 17 syllables! 

Birdtober Day Twenty-One: Hummingbird

Today I'm cheating a little bit; this is a repost of Day Sixteen from Birdtober in 2021. This, the Vervain Hummingbird, was the first species I reported on eBird. Here's more about it:

Today I decided to write about the Vervain Hummingbird, an island endemic. There are two subspecies, one on Jamaica and one on Hispaniola. These are the second smallest birds in the world, only surpassed in smallness by the Bee Hummingbird from Cuba. Vervains are noisy, and they like to sit on the highest point in the area, looking around. I think it makes them feel Large and In Charge. 

Photo Source: eBird.com

I thought I knew all about the Vervain already, but just a little bit of research revealed many more interesting facts. For example, I didn't know that this miniature bird (6 to 7 centimeters long) attacks much larger species; Vervains have been observed attacking Mangrove Cuckoos, Northern Mockingbirds, and even American Kestrels! I really think these guys have no idea how little they are. A male will defend a territory of 20 by 20 meters. I even learned why I've never once seen a Vervain at my hummingbird feeders; the flowers they typically feed from are much smaller than the ones the feeders imitate. (I'll put a list of my sources further down in the post.) 

As part of the Caribbean Endemic Bird Festival put on by BirdsCaribbean earlier this year, there was an Endemic Bird of the Day. On the day when the Vervain Hummingbird was featured, I read a description of its sound as being "like tiny sword fights." I can't find that page any more, but fortunately I wrote down that perfect phrase, so I had it to use in my poem. (Sometimes I think the best part of birding is the writing. Scientists work as hard as poets to use just the right words!)

The form is the 4x4, which I learned about from my Poetry Friday friend Denise Krebs. (You can read about the rules here.) 

Vervain Hummingbird

 

Tiny monarch
sits in splendor
sings out fiercely
like small sword fights.

Fearless fighter,
Tiny monarch
shrinks from nothing,
needs nobody.

He’d just as soon
leave out “tiny,”
Tiny monarch
feels enormous

As he rules his
territory,
bow down to the
Tiny monarch.

 

©Ruth Bowen Hersey

Sources: Wikipedia, Beauty of Birds, and BirdsCaribbean.

 

Here are some pictures I took with my phone of a Vervain on her nest, which is a little bigger than a thimble. The pictures aren't the same quality as the ones from eBird, but I was pretty happy to get this close without annoying her. She had built her nest right above where we were meeting for our outdoor church service because of Covid. It was so fun to watch her go back and forth to her nest as we had our meeting. I never failed to take my binoculars to church during that time! 

 

See her nest, right in the middle of the photo?

This photo is a blown-up version of the next one, so you can see the bird's head.

And there she is in her nest! I didn't want to get any closer, but it sure looks to me as though there are babies in there. They are born naked and blind, not looking at all like lovely little birds, but more like teeny rodents. (Sorry, mama bird. I don't mean to insult your babies.)

Birdtober Day Twenty: Abyssinian Ground-Hornbill

Today I'm using the Ugandan calendar. Instead of a roadrunner species, only occurring in North and Central America, my colleague substituted the Abyssinian Ground-Hornbill, which, like both the Greater and Lesser Roadrunners, can fly, but mostly doesn't. All three of these species live on the ground and usually choose to run when they need to move quickly. 

Photo Source: eBird.com

As you can see from the picture, this is quite a startling-looking bird. And it's about 40 inches tall. I have seen this species once. I was on a weekend getaway with a bunch of female friends in Jinja, Uganda, and we were staying in an Air B&B. We were playing games in the living room and I had my back to the window. Suddenly one of my friends said, "What is that?" In the backyard there was an Abyssinian Ground-Hornbill. I didn't know what it was at first, but I did some research and found out quickly. It wasn't on Merlin's list of likely birds for where we were, but it's pretty unmistakable. This is a vulnerable species, and what a privilege to see it!

Abyssinian Ground-Hornbill

Enormous hornbill on the ground,
with an unexpected sound,
where did you come from?
Where are you headed,
with your markings blue-d and red-ed?
I did not expect your arrival
but I strongly wish for your healthy survival.

 

©Ruth Bowen Hersey