Peregrine Enid

[Green Hedges]

Kate and I - who some of you have met in the pages of Looking For Enid - now live together in a house in Blairgowrie. A replica of Fatty's Shed - containing my Enid Blyton library - stands at the bottom of the garden. And, as if that wasn't enough, we are now pleased as Punch to find ourselves being visited on a daily basis by the spirit of Enid herself.

Enid has come visiting every day for a week in the form of a peregrine falcon. She sits near the top of the hundred-foot spire of the church that stands hard against our little House-For-Two. We know it's a female peregrine (3 inches bigger than the male), because I've had a good look at reproductions of all the raptors in several excellent bird books. We know its actually Enid for several reasons, one being that she uses an illustration of the peregrine, specifically the female, as the frontispiece to Birds of the Wayside and Woodland, 'Edited and with introductory chapters upon the general habits and characteristics of birds by Enid Blyton'. You can find the book on Barbara Stoney's list of Blyton books for the year 1936.

What Enid does in that book, is to reduce T.A. Coward's work, The Birds of the British Isles, from three volumes to one. In the preface Enid states: 'I have done my best to condense three beautifully written volumes into one, and yet to keep Mr Coward's inimitable style and engaging descriptions.' And that is something I will come back to. Because, as well as writing hundreds of books, Enid in a sense 'unwrote' two volumes of The Birds of the British Isles, and I think it will be interesting to look in detail at a bit of this unwriting (or editing as it's more conventionally known).

Enid also says in the preface that acknowledgement must be made of the excellence of the coloured illustrations, which are reproduced from Lord Lilford's Coloured Figures of the Birds of the British Islands drawn by Thorburn and other well-known bird artists. She states that these plates deservedly have a world-wide reputation. I reckon Enid herself would have chosen the peregrine falcon for pride of place in her version of the book, just as she chose a colour illustration of another flying favourite, the kingfisher, to front the first volume of her Teachers' Treasury, ten years earlier. In those ten years of development as a writer, Enid had gone from seeing herself as a creature who could dip into the river of her imagination and come up with a fish every time, to a creature who knew she had the unique abilty to stoop to conquer. That is, to come down on homing pigeons and collared doves at a speed that has been estimated at 200mph. My God, can that peregrine falcon bring home the pigeon pie!

Actually, neither Kate or I have seen the peregrine making a kill as yet. Most of the time, Enid just sits on one of her four perches (north-, south-, east- and west-facing) near the top of the spire, preening. Kate reckons she's got a typewriter up there in amongst that spectacularly speckled breast plumage, and, true enough, in some of the photographs we've got of the bird, it does look as if she's hugging some sort of feather-camouflaged keyboard to her upper body.

I can't be sure that Enid approves of everything I've said in Looking For Enid, which is why I've been going about the garden with a crash helmet on. If Enid decides to come down on my head like a ton of spire, then I want to survive the experience. What a postscript that would make to some future edition of my book - 'How I was scalped by those talented talons!'

The presence of Enid has given me a new idea for a Noddy book that I'm hoping Robert Tyndall is going to illustrate and Chorion is going to publish in 2009. It's called Noddy and the Peregrine Falcon, and I might as well tell you the gist of the story right now. A peregrine comes to Toyland. One day it sees Noddy's head sticking out of the window of his House-For-One. 'Off with his hat,' says the peregrine, and one 200mph stoop later, Noddy's hat can be spotted on top of the church spire. Well, of course, Noddy flees to Toadstool House for reinforcements, and soon Big-Ears and Noddy are putting their brains together to come up with a plan to get Noddy's hat back where it belongs - on his charming little wooden bonce.

Maybe I shouldn't give too much away at this stage. Yes, I'll leave the Noddy story there. In fact, I must put the old crash helmet on again and go out into the garden to see what Enid's up to up top. I'll get back to this thread in the afternoon, hopefully, with more about the peregrine falcon in two fine bird books - before and after the entry was edited by the extraordinarily adaptable hands of Enid Blyton.

Looking forward,
Duncan

[Anita Bensoussane]

I'll get back to this thread in the afternoon, hopefully, with more about the peregrine falcon in two fine bird books - before and after the entry was edited by the extraordinarily adaptable hands of Enid Blyton.

It would be interesting to know more about how Enid edited the book. I found my copy of Birds of the Wayside and Woodland in a local antiques shop - one of the very few truly vintage Blytons I've come across locally.

Anita

[Tony Summerfield]

You can find the book on Barbara Stoney's list of Blyton books for the year 1936.

You can even find a picture of the book on this website in the Cave of Books!

[Green Hedges]

Thanks for the reference, Tony. I see Birds of the Wayside and Woodland in the Cave of Books now.

For others who might want to take a look, it's in the Education section, in the class called 'Non-Fiction, Non-Series', a little tricky to find because of the sub-title 'Transport'. An interesting list of 13 books, including one of the essential Blyton volumes: The Story of My Life.

If you have time at some stage, Tony, (and I appreciate how time-consuming the Cave of Books must be for you; you do a great job down there in the Underground Library) what might further enliven the entry for Birds of the Wayside and Woodland is a scan of the double-page showing, on the left, the frontispiece - the wonderful colour picture of the Peregrine falcon - and, on the right, the title page which gives T.A. Coward and Enid Blyton equal billing. Though I must say I think of Enid Blyton as the majestic falcon, and T.A. Coward as the tiercel (the smaller, male of the peregrine).

Below is the entry for Peregrine Falcon in T.A. Coward's Birds of the British Isles. In italics are the words that Enid Blyton 'unwrote' to end up with the entry that one finds in the book she edited and introduced, the aforementioned Birds of the Wayside and Woodland.

In fact, just to make that clearer, I'll put the words that were retained by Enid in bold.

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The handsome Peregrine is the largest and most powerful of our resident falcons, and is commoner, especially round our rocky coasts, than is usually supposed. In spite of persecution and the repeated burning of nests by farmers, it holds its own. Some closely allied form of Peregrine is found in most parts of the world, and our race breeds in northern and central Europe and is partially migratory, many wintering in Africa. Birds of passage are not uncommon in Britain, especially on the east coast, where they travel with and depend upon other migrants. The North American Duck-Hawk, Falco peregrinus anatum Bonap., has been twice recognised as a visitor, in Leicestershire in 1891 and Lincoln in 1910; it is a darker bird than ours.

There is a dash, neatness and finish in the flight of the Peregrine which is purely its own. The wings move rapidly, beating the air for a few moments, and are then held steady in a bow whilst the bird glides forward, sometimes rolling slightly from side to side. The legs, as in other raptorial birds, lie under the tail and are not held forward except when striking; at times one leg will be dropped and shaken during flight. When seen from above, the bird looks blue, from below, red or rufous, but if at a distance or high in the air it looks a black arc or swiftly moving crescent. The bend of the bow varies with the speed and inclination of flight; during desceent, when the wing tips point backward, it is a sharp curve. Near a coastwise eyrie the bird will sail out over the water, easily and gracefully, rising to a great height, then with wings almost closed shoot seaward, recovering itself near the water and after a low flight above the waves mount once more. Tiercel and falcon, as the male and female are called, join in aerial gambols, sporting together as one or the other playfully mounts and stoops at its consort. The "stoop" of the Peregrine is its swoop or downward rush with almost closed wings, seen to best advantage when hunting. An aerial flight between two tiercels is a sight to be remembered; the stoops and dodges are no play then; the birds rise to a great height, each striving to get above the other to gain advantage for the stoop, which is avoided often by a sudden upward rush of the lower bird, accompanied by a scream of rage or fear. In one such fight neither bird succeeded in striking, but the turns, twists and ruses to avoid impact by the one which happened to be below were wonderful to watch. The usual cry of the Peregrine when its eyrie is approached is a sharp, quickly repeated hech or hek; that of the tiercel is a distinct hak, hak, hak, but in the falcon it is quicker and runs into a fierce chattering scream, hek,hek,ek-ek-ek.

Near the eyrie the birds have look-outs, some jutting rocks or pinnacles on the cliff face. Here a bird will perch for hours, with head sunk into its shoulders, and its breast turned outward, showing white against dark rocks, but hardly visible on the chalk cliffs of the south coast. Occasionally the head, set off by the black moustachial streaks, is turned sharply to watch the flight of some passing gull or wader. On the cliff-top, near the eyries, are the shambles, scattered litter of blood-stained feathers and the rejected remnants of many a victim. The Peregrine will kill birds large or small - ducks, gulls, Curlew and even small waders; it will kill and eat Daws and Rooks, Grouse, Partridge and Pigeon; indeed it is especially fond of the Stock-Dove and domestic Pigeon, stopping the homing of many a homer. As a rule the quarry is killed in flight, struck down by the "bolt from the blue" and sent hurtling earthward, headless or with back ripped open, amidst a cloud of feathers. Immediately after giving the fatal blow with the hind claw the destroyer shoots upward, descending later to enjoy its meal. The rush of a stooping Peregrine when heard at close quarters is like the sound of a rocket. I have seen a Peregrine stand on the grass close to a bunch of Wigeon which were crouching under the bank, waiting for them to rise and give it an opportunity, but the same tactics are not always employed, nor is the meal invariably secured. A homing Pigeon, crossing the Dee estuary, was persistently chased, but by smart turns and repeated sudden drops almost to the marsh it succeeded in outwitting the much quicker bird; on another occasion a small wader about the size of a Sanderling eluded every stoop by similar drops, and would have escaped had not the Peregrine suddenly changed its methods, and following every turn and twist of its quarry, fairly out-flew it and caught it with its foot. The Pergrine will visit the rearing-field, and skimming low pick up young Pheasants from the ground.

No nest is made; the two to four richly coloured orange-red or deep brown eggs are placed in a rough hollow scraped on some ledge or a steep crag or cliff. They are usually laid in April, and though normally single brooded, the bird will lay again if the first eggs are destroyed; I have known young still in the nest in October. Both sexes sit, but the falcon is far fiercer and noisier in its defence of the nest than her mate. Until the downy white young are fledged they are fed upon plucked and usually headless food. When very young they lie prone and motionless as long as watched, but when the new feathers are appearing, they scramble about restlessly on the ledge with a cheeping food call.

The adult male has the upper parts slate-grey with dark bars, the crown and cheeks very dark, and the black moustachial patch conspicuous. The under parts are buffish white, deepest on the breast, and are barred with black, the amount varying individually. The bill is blue, the cere, eye-rims and legs yellow, the irides dark brown. The female, a larger bird, is darker and the bars are heavier. In immature dress, the plumage of most "passage-hawks" as the migrants are called, the upper parts are greyish brown with buff margins to the feathers, and the yellowish under parts are streaked and not barred. The cere and legs are livid blue-grey, as are the soft parts to the nestlings. Male: length 15 ins. Wing 12.5 ins. Tarsus, 2 ins. Female: Length 18 ins. Wing, 14 ins. Tarsus, 2.3 ins.

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The first thing to say about all that, is it shows how seriously Enid took her job as editor. She has clearly gone through the original Coward text with a fine tooth-comb. As I dare say she has done with the rest of the 300 entries in his/her bird book. Though I like to think she may have paid most attention to those select birds she wrote about so often: kingfisher, cuckoo, blackbird, nightingale and robin.

Shame she felt she had to get rid of "stopping the homing of many a homer". She has got rid of a lot of Coward's details re hunting techniques and prey preferences, but shame she had to get rid of that fine phrase.

I hope I'll have more to say about it later, but right now I have to pluck and make headless enough food to keep Kate and I well-fed until tomorrow.

Happy birding,
Duncan

[Tony Summerfield]

If you have time at some stage, Tony, (and I appreciate how time-consuming the Cave of Books must be for you; you do a great job down there in the Underground Library) what might further enliven the entry for Birds of the Wayside and Woodland is a scan of the double-page showing, on the left, the frontispiece - the wonderful colour picture of the Peregrine falcon - and, on the right, the title page which gives T.A. Coward and Enid Blyton equal billing. Though I must say I think of Enid Blyton as the majestic falcon, and T.A. Coward as the tiercel (the smaller, male of the peregrine).

Your wish is my command, Duncan, and the 'spirit of Enid' is now in place. As a fat tightly bound book it didn't want to lie flat on my scanner, but you get the general idea.

You have a fertile imagination and perhaps it is just as well that you haven't yet seen the 'spririt of Enid' devouring some poor little mouse as no doubt that would become the 'spirit of Hugh'!

Perhaps next we will have a suggestion from another source that the 'spirit of Enid' is actually one of the ravens hovering over Corfe Castle!!

[Anita Bensoussane]

The first thing to say about all that, is it shows how seriously Enid took her job as editor. She has clearly gone through the original Coward text with a fine tooth-comb.

Yes, reducing each entry by about two-thirds on average can't have been an easy task and Enid has treated Coward's text sensitively, unlike the editors who abridged Enid's The Magic Faraway Tree so clumsily and carelessly (by lopping off the final six or seven chapters and grafting the ending paragraphs on to an earlier chapter) or the ones who decided to round off a collection of short stories (Happy Hours Story Book) by putting in the first two chapters of one of Enid's full-length circus books!

Perhaps next we will have a suggestion from another source that the 'spirit of Enid' is actually one of the ravens hovering over Corfe Castle!!

Or perhaps we should be looking out for a seagull. In her editorial for Enid Blyton's Magazine Vol. 5 No. 10, May 1957, Enid wrote, "I am sitting by the sea to write you this letter...Overhead the great winged gulls soar and glide and swoop. If I were a bird I would like to be one of those gulls! It must be lovely to sweep through the air as they do, with strong slow wing-beats, or swoop down to the water, close their wings and bob up and down happily on the waves."

Jack Trent would love to read this thread!

Anita

[Green Hedges]

Yes, Anita, Enid has been badly served by editors up to the present day. Basically, I suspect, because they haven't had enough respect for her work, particularly the short stories. The various volumes, instead of being republished at random, could do with being introduced and contextualised.

The seagull is a great spot. I wonder if Enid changed her mind about what bird she imagined herself to be. I don't have access to many issues of the Enid Blyton Magazine, but I like to think there's one where the editorial reads: "I am sitting by the sea at Swanage to write you this letter. Overhead the great winged falcons soar and glide and swoop. If I were a bird I would like to be one of those falcons! It must be lovely to sweep through the air as they do, wings beating for a few moments, then held steady in a bow whilst gliding forward, sometimes rolling slightly from side to side. I imagine chasing a Sanderling, following every twist and turn of him until I fairly out-flew him and caught him with my foot."

Thanks for scanning the double-page, Tony. Now everyone can get a sense of what it is like to be stared at by the spirit of Enid! People may even begin to appreciate my own predicament. Every time I put my key in the lock of our front door, if I look up, I can see Enid staring down at me from on-high. Worst of all is when I'm washing my hands at the sink in our upstairs loo, because when I look up through the velux window (and I can never resist doing so), there Enid is on the north perch of the spire looking down on me. Makes me feel as uncomfortable as I imagine Goon to have felt in the Swanage chapter of Looking For Enid, when he was using his ensuite, surrounded by that other spirit of Enid - the Find-Outers.

I left the house fairly early this morning, somewhat relieved to put some distance between myself and Peregrine Enid. I called in at the fish shop and was walking along the street in the direction of the open countryside when a car pulled up. It was Kate, and as a queue of cars formed behind her, our conversation went something like this:

Mrs Twiddle: "The timer for the boiler's playing up. See if you can do something about it before I get back this evening."
Mr Twiddle (a bit distracted by the annoyed looking faces of the drivers in various cars): "Yes, I've bought fish for tea."
Mrs Twiddle: "The BOILER, Twiddle!"
Mr Twiddle (embarrassed: opening his bag and staring at the white fish): "I'd rather fry them in olive oil."

It was only after Kate had driven off that I realised what she'd said. Of course, I know what's happened, Enid has placed the curse of Twiddle on our household. And I dare say the curse will stay in place until the peregrine flies off to pastures new.

In the meantime, I have to learn to live with the situation. And my way of doing so is to go on telling the story, Noddy and the Peregrine Falcon. Which I'll try and settle down to in Fatty's Shed later. It's the south-facing perch I can see from there.

Looking up (nervously),
Duncan