I believe I can fly 4: the joy of flight

Like the joy of a boy going downhill on a bike, even more so is the joy of a bird racing on the wind. This does not mean that your pet bird wants to go away from you. It simply means that he(she) also wants to celebrate life the way he is intended to do.  To take this away from him, is not only to take away the magic of flight, but  to take away the whole essence of being a bird.

If you really love your bird, give him the opportunity to fly – in your home, in a very large cage, or even, ( if you trained him properly) outdoors. He will be so much happier, and so will you!

I hope you enjoy this poem of Henry Charles, Beeching, I found on Karin’s wonderful blog.

Going Down Hill on a Bicycle
A Boy’s Song

Henry Charles Beeching

With lifted feet, hands still,
I am poised, and down the hill
Dart, with heedful mind;
The air goes by in a wind.

Swifter and yet more swift,
Till the heart with a might lift
Makes the lungs laugh, the throat cry:
“O bird, see; bird, I can fly.

‘Is this, is this your joy?
O bird, then I, though a boy,
For a golden moment share
Your feathery life in air!’

Say, heart, is there aught like this
In a world that is full of bliss?
‘Tis more than skating, bound
Steel-shod to the level ground.

Speed slackens now, I float
Awhile in my airy boat;
Till, when the wheels scarce crawl,
My feet to the treadles fall.

Alas, that the longest hill
Must end in a vale, but still,
Who climbs with toil, wheresoe’er,
Shall find wings waiting there.

To read about Bekkie, my Indian Ringneck’s outdoor adventures,  please click here.  and here. It is in Afrikaans, my native tongue, but the translator should give you some idea what happened.

Since it was written, Bekkie flew out quite a couple of times again, but only into our own garden. He will sit high in the Jacaranda, will call me loudly to let me know that he is being very brave and adventurous and, yes, a bit naughty.  A little while later he will fly back into the safety of the kitchen, where he expects me to give him a treat and and a lot of attention.

And I love him for it.

 

Image result for parrots in flight pictures
Image result for flying parrots images
The photo’s above are from Google Images and not of Bekkie, my blue Indian ringneck.

Here is Bekkie sitting in a neighbour’s Jacaranda in the photo below.

IMG-20141202-WA0000

Bekkie bo in die bure se jakarandaboom

About seegogga

Soos 'n krappie op die strand, trap ek spoortjies in die sand. Dalk sien jy iets, dalk niets. Wie sal raai hoe die wind gaan waai?
This entry was posted in English blogs, gedigte en rympies (seestrome van verlange), Los opdrifsels, Voels en beginsels: I believe I can fly and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

11 Responses to I believe I can fly 4: the joy of flight

  1. Toortsie sê:

    Jy het my geleer dat dit nie nodig is om ‘n voël se veer uit te trek nie.

  2. travel460 sê:

    Wat ñ pragtige gedig is dit nie, Seegogga. Ek glo glad nie daaraan om voëltjies in hokkies aan te hou nie, so ek voel met jou oor die vryheid.

  3. Good day Seabug – nee Seegogga klink beter. Jy laat mens dink – dit is ‘n brawe eienaar wat dit regkry. Dit seker reeds ‘n cliche maar steeds waar: “if you love something set it free”

    • seegogga sê:

      Ai Abrie, my voeltjie vlieg so in die huis rond ( en slegs in d kombuis as ek nie daar is nie), maar soms is daar ‘n glipsie met ‘n venster of iets, en dan glip hy uit….maar dis ware woorde wat jy daar spreek.

  4. Terug pieng: I believe I can fly 3 ( ofterwel: Die dag toe ek op Worcester se sypaadjie kampeer het) | Seegogga se Bloggie

  5. Olga sê:

    Kleintyd het Ousus ”n budgie en kokketiel gehad wat vry en los in die huis tussen die honde en kat gelewe het vir baie jare. Was hulle keuse om te bly. Oop deure, oop vensters, mense en honde wat heeldag in en uit gegaan het. Ek hou mos nie van toe vensters nie. Dag en nag, winter en somer, vensters en deure is oop. Mooi gedig ook.

  6. Kameel sê:

    Dit laat my nou dink aan my dogter se budgies waarna ek moes kyk in die vakansie wat verby is, toe is die een dood, en ek was sowaar baie hartseer. Die budgie het net te oulik gepraat…. sy naam was voëltjie (baie oorspronklik)…. dan het hy gehello voëltjie kom ons dans, dans, dans. Die kinders geroep, en nog meer. My dogter het hom in die huis laat rondloop; hy het kos uit hulle borde kom eet ens. Ek is in twee oor voëls…. so lief vir hulle gesing in die tuin, en verstaan hulle wil vry wees…. dan weer maak hulle net die oulikste troeteldier… of is dit nou troetelvoël?

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