Now a week on from the winter solstice, a psychological shift occurs as we begin to watch for lengthening days and sense the earth’s slant towards the sun on its incremental journey of renewal into January, or Janus, the Roman god of passage to new beginnings.
A blackbird’s ‘pinking’ calls and the occasional blue and great-tit songs hint at those new beginnings, as do the green tips peeping from sunken flower bulbs.
Walking in a nearby woodland recently, I heard screeching jays protesting and watched flocks of long-tailed tits working their way through thickets of alder and birch.
Overhead, redwings and fieldfares flew in groups and closer to earth, four bullfinches showed off their distinctive white rumps as they flew off with a soft whistle.
Read more: The birds of prey re-establishing themselves in Ireland
Shy and unobtrusive birds, bullfinches are chunky and heavily built. They lack a discernible neck, which is probably why they get their name.
Both male and female have a short, strong beak, black wings, nape and crown, as well as the notable white rump. The male is especially colourful with its rose-red cheeks and breast, whereas the underparts of the female are a more muted greyish brown with a hint of pink.
Its Irish name, ‘corcán coille’, translates as ‘purple or crimson bird of the wood’. The bird is often commonly found in pairs, along woodland edges, gardens and orchards, feeding on buds, seeds and fruits.
Its liking for buds and fruits brings it into conflict with orchard owners, and in 16th century England and Wales it was targeted as a serious nuisance. A bounty of one penny was offered “for the head of every Bulfynche or other Byrde that devoureth the blowth of Fruite”.
Churchwardens and parish officers were responsible for administering this and in church accounts at the time, references are made to payment for ‘malps and olfs’, all colloquial names originating from an old term for the bullfinch, ‘alpe’.
In A Dictionary of English and Folk-names of British Birds (1913), Swann has the entry ‘Alp’ for bullfinch suggesting it is from the old English ‘albe’, a derivative of the Latin word albus meaning white, and a possible connection to the conspicuous white rump of the bird.
Unfortunately, the bullfinch was at one time highly valued as a cage bird, not just for its beauty but also for its ability to learn and mimic musical tunes. The bird was said, in an old folktale, to be so proud of its colourful and attractive plumage that it believed it must also have a beautiful song.
Convinced of this, the bird decided to challenge the plain and drab looking nightingale to a singing contest. When the latter began to sing, its melody was so alluring and enchanting, the bullfinch realised there was much more to beauty than just appearance.
Read more: Discover halcyon days at Lough Erne: A serene encounter with kingfishers and swans
Later in the day I looked across Lower Lough Erne as Yeats’s “moth hour of eve” approached, a slight stretch evident. There on the calm waters was a lone great-crested grebe still in its full winter plumage of mostly black and white, a reminder that the season still holds its grip.
As I watched the bird dive occasionally and reappear, I felt reassured however that with the turning of the year, the bird will soon don its ornate head plume and orange ruff around the neck, in readiness for a spring courtship dance, just as the monogamous bullfinch too, will pair with its mate for springtime.
In the words of nature poet John Clare, “The Old Year’s gone away/To nothingness and night:/We cannot find him all the day/ Nor hear him in the night.”
Happy new year to all.
