Blogueuse invitée: M. Gorgebleue

M. Gorgebleue (By Daniel Bastaja, http://www.birdingfaqs.com/ [Attribution], via Wikimedia Commons)

Bonjour! Je suis très delighted to make your acquaintance.  Je m’appelle Monsieur Gorgebleue, une très jolie inhabitante de northern France. Monsieur et Madame Oiseau-chapeau et Monsieur et Madame Poisson cherched pour moi far and wide près de Calais last Jeudi, but got not one glimpse. Zey sought me high, zey sought me low. Zey sought me in the marais, zey sought me sous les arbres, zey sought me à côté de la mer. Mais zey did not catch me. For I am French! I am cunning, superior, far too clever for zese English types. Zey watched for me, crazy twitchers, but little did zey know zat I was watching zem. Come, je will tell you about it.

Tous les English twitchers, they are très jealous that fromage-munching oiseau lovers in France see me all of ze time – me, ze magnificent gorge-bleue, avec mon magnificent gorge bleue! Did je mention je suis très jolie? Zey would do anysink for to have me habite à Londres or some other stinky rosbif town. Mais, je suis très happy living dans la belle France. Why not?! For here, une gorge-blue comme moi can spend two hours having ze lunch, avec beacoup de vin, et two hours having ze nap afterwards. C’est magnifique, non? Whereas, zese stupid Anglo types are always chasing about after ze money, or ticking les oiseaux if zat way inclined, or whatever else it is zey do with zemselves. I tell you, zese Anglos are crazy!

And zese en particulier were crazier zan most. Getting up at le dawn, and catching a très early ferry from Dover (like Calais, mais wiz more cliffs and wizout le cheap wine), ze fools were full of le optimism. Avec une grande shopping list: honey buzzards, golden orioles, marsh warblers, melodious warblers – ze last two are very plain looking, hardly worth le bothering with. But zen, there was also moi. Le magnificent gorge-blueue, avec mon magnificent gorge bleue. Très jolie, I assure you. At least zey had some taste.

Perhaps it is because les Poissons have zere eyes closed zat zey could not see me taking zis photo…

When zey arrived dans Calais, I came alongside le bateau, disguised as a sandwich. Sandwich tern, zat is, pas une baguette, zat would be stupide. Zey didn’t see me. Zey didn’t see me dans les fields à côté de la road zey drove zat stupid Micra along (a joke of a voiture, I assure you, when zey should be driving something French et sensible comme une Citroën aux deux chevaux or avec  l’ingénieux inflatable suspension.). Je was disguised as a grey partridge – zey sometimes call it ze ‘English partridge’ which is un insulte as we have beaucoup de grey partridges here. Zey didn’t see me dans la ville de St Omer (très jolie), peering from les blue tits’ nest dans la cathédrale, ou dans la pâtisserie, where zey did purchase beaucoup de pain et de gateaux (how le population d’Angleterre survives on ze chemical foam zey claim is bread, je cannot say), ou dans le parc, where je led them une petite dance by singing comme un firecrest for a while.

Le moulin, on le hill where it belongs.

Neizer did zey see me au Réserve Naturelle du Romelaërewhere my friends normally habitent dans good numbers – all of zem magnifique et très jolie, of course. Walking on ze boardwalk je am sure zey had a nice time looking at ze dragonflies et ze marsh frogs et tout les oiseaux that are basically dead dans England, mais we have lots of: le cuckoo, le turtle dove, le reed bunting, etc. Je did not sing mon normal chanson, mais je threw in un peu de golden oriole et marsh warbler just to make zem ‘appy and sink zey were ‘earing something new. Je did at least make sure my friend ze young night heron was très rapide and did not stick around so zey will never know if zat is what they really saw. Afterwards, je raced zem back to ze coast, past le windmill dans le hill – in France, we put them on the hill for here it is windy, mais down on the flatlands comme les Anglais is une stupide place for a windmill, no?

As ze day faded,  je suis sure zey enjoyed les dunes et le scrub dans le coast près de Calais, for it is très jolie, et not at all like ze orrible reputation les Anglos foist upon it. Les marsh harriers swooping over zat stupide voiture were almost as magnifique as moi, et le wild frog chorus is très fine au nord de la France (et not at all like zat Paul McCartney nonsense).  Mais to make sure zey didn’t have too nice a time, et pour le final victoire, je imitated une melodious warbler et une icterine warbler, one after ze other, from opposite bushes. Just for to confuse zem further, ze poor, overwhelmed English twitching types. Zey could not tell which to tick. A haw haw haw haw! Zen je saw them back out to sea, moi gliding magnificently beside le bateau dans une stunning kittiwake disguise. Zey seemed très contents, but having not regarded moi, zey lamented un petit peu.  How could zey have known? All those other birds? It was in fact I all along! Le gorge-bleue magnifique, avec my magnificent gorge bleue! It goes wizout saying zat je suis très, très, très jolie. Did je mention?

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2 thoughts on “Blogueuse invitée: M. Gorgebleue

  1. Pingback: Double Dutch « Considering Birds

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