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Posted By:
Hal Brown
Date Posted:
Apr 28, 2013
Description:
This morning I was sitting on the middle deck (on shore, about 200 feet from the osprey nest at the end of the pier), sipping coffee from a mug that Carol bought me at the Dayton Air Force museum, with the poem "High Flight" printed on it. The poet, John Magee, Jr., died at age 19 in a mid-air collision of his Spitfire with a trainer.I happened to be looking at the nest when the father osprey swooped in to deliver a fish. The mother took the gift and flew with it in her talons toward their favorite perch in a tree, and as she crossed the beach a feather came loose and fell to the ground. It fell quickly, almost straight down, like a dart, not at all like how we think feathers fall. I set down the coffee mug and walked barefoot down the steps and across the firm damp sand, looking for the fallen feather. Found it! - - This is the only feather I've ever seen fall from a bird in flight. The mother osprey scolded me from her perch in the tree. I thanked her for the gift--not that she gave it to me or wished me well. The little video (below) shows the feather and one that a goose gave me last week--as different as feathers can be. Feathers are birds' hairs. This is about as close as I'm likely to get to birdness. I'm going SeaRey flying this afternoon, but the birds must know it's not the same and they might say, if they could speak English, that "High Flight" is a boy's poem, a very nice try, but not flying.
Date Taken:
Apr 28, 2013
Place Taken:
The Taj Mahouse, on the James River, Virginia
Owner:
Don Maxwell
File Name:
MyOspreyFeather_5818_k.jpg - Photo HTML
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Category:
23, Max Pix
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Don Maxwell - Apr 28,2013
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High Flight <br /><br />Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth<br />And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings<br />Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth<br />of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things<br />You have not dreamed of — wheeled and soared and swung<br />High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,<br />I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung<br />My eager craft through footless halls of air....<br /><br />Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue<br />I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace.<br />Where never lark, or even eagle flew —<br />And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod<br /><br />The high untrespassed sanctity of space, -<br />Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.<br /><br /> --John Gillespie Magee, Jr.<br /> 1941<br /><br /><br />It's a sonnet, by the way. The first word 'Oh!' shows us the inadequacy of human language. It's meant to convey something of the ah! feeling that we all know almost from birth but have no good word for. 'Oh!' is what we say after taking in breath, after something takes our breath away.<br /><br />The Wickipedia entry for Magee says that he lifted a number of lines from other poems about flying. That's slightly disillusioning--but forgivable; we all plagiarize in trying to describe our attempts to fly like birds.<br /><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Gillespie_Magee">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Gillespie_Magee</a>,_Jr
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