"I Felt A Sharp Wonder"

Lilac tree wren met Jazzy and me at the garden gate this morning churrring away, even though it had a fat spider in its beak. We stood and watched as it appeared and reappeared. Then we heard the tweeting of young. I edged forward gradually until I was as close as my lens will focus. The parent bird held its ground and then its mate appeared. What brave little birds they are. I don't know how to tell them apart. I think the bird on the right might be the male because instead of 'churring' he sang, again with a beak full of bugs. I think he has a speckled bush cricket nymph by one of its antennae. 

I love John Clare's wildlife poetry and I'm excited because I have discovered the Irish JC, Michael Hartnett. Having read A Necklace Of Wrens I can just imagine those silly nestlings leaving the nest, mistaking me for a tree and forming themselves into a sharp-clawed necklace.

When I was very young
    I found a nest
Its chirping young
     were fully fledged.
They rose and re-alighted
    around my neck,
Made in the wet meadow
     a feather necklet.
To them I was not human
    but a stone or tree:
I felt a sharp wonder
     they could not feel.
That was when the craft came
    which demands respect.
Their talons left on me
    scars not healed yet.

I've included it in Irish for Michael Plaice. :)

I mo bhuachaill óg, fadó fadó,
     d'aimsíos nead.
Bhí na gearrcaigh clúmhtha, fásta,
     is iad ag scread.
D'éirigh siad – is thuirling
    arís ar m'ucht
Ormsa bhí muince clúimh
     sa mhóinéar fliuch.
Níor dhuine mé ach géag crainn
    nó carn cloch
ach bhí iontas crua nár bhraith said
     ag bualadh faoi m'ucht.
B'in an lá ar thuirling ceird
    a éilíonn ómós:
is d'fhág a n-ingne forba orm
     nár leigheasadh fós.

https://www.theguardian.com/books/2012/apr/02/poem-week-michael-hartnett