Every bird tells a story

LET ME ASK YOU SOMETHING: why do some of us watch birds? Beautiful, breathtaking, majestic – birds are poetry-makers, bringers of the superlative, coaxing adjectives from our minds like alchemists at the cauldron. Why does one of my favourite bird experiences involve a small, insignificantly brownish bird that didn’t do much different to the more colourful garden birds around it? Because it tells a story.

My name is Danny Flenley, and I want to use this blog to tell some of the stories I’ve been part of – tales of eccentricity and electricity, of grit and gritting machines, of life and beauty and peace and awe and parsimony; tales of extreme places and extreme wildlife (birds and beyond). I sketched this intro to ‘the-blog-I-was-going-to-start’ some time ago, and now plan to mix more of a healthy dose of comment, opinion and something resembling education into my posts. However, if I manage to do the actual stories any kind of justice they ought to be stories worth hearing – don’t you think?


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