The neighbourhood thrush...

I’d seen him before in the yew tree at the end of the road. He’s usually too high up for me to get a decent look, but I often hear him singing and it always brings a small flutter off a smile to my lips.

Today though, he was sitting just above me in the lower branches as I passed. I stopped to look. What a magnificent bird, so proud looking, his beak thrust out and his chest puffed. He hopped onto a lower branch and as he did, the light caught his spotted breast. It reminded me of a leopard’s skin with that tawny-gold sheen and deep brown speckledness. It reminded me of a spotted dick pudding, rich sponge and darkest currants. It reminded me of tie I once had – what happened to that I wonder?

I stood looking up for a minute or so and then he began to sing. A small flutter of a smile and a strange compunction to applaud came upon me. Of course I didn’t, what a picture that would have painted – an aging, smiling, man standing on the pavement, looking into the air and clapping. Perhaps they’d have carted me off to the funny farm.

Anyway, I listened for a while and then, noticing me with his shiny black eyes, he flew off startled. Perhaps I looked madder that I thought.