Art isn’t Anectdotic, but it is

What are Friends 

I have a couple of friends, not too much, just two or three, that they still sticking around with me, the other is far away.
One of them is my pet, Mackneen, The Algerian Goldfinch, it has been a companion for me since childhood, it is the witness of all my 400 coups, and more my confident for my secrets, chagrins, joys, and pains, failures, and success. It was always him that shared  my moments

I know, you may say that a bird doesn’t leave longer than a decade, I agree with that, since it was the parent for the pedigree or the lignée, wich I started the breeding with, so it made sense for me then, to name the following new breed after the parent’s name ; Mck I, Mck II… I had less pain and sorrow for the loss of a pet, since I always taking care of the siblings, with that time spent in a cage ,  taken young from the wild it became a domesticated bird,  so to speak, as it grew older.

The anecdote is, sometimes, I forget the door of the cage open, while I was cleaning the cage, filling the jar of water, and the feeder box with seeds, totally absorbed by the task. At first, it made its way throughout the cage, then , to the ramage of a cherry tree, in the backyard. He stood there for a while on a branch, sleeked his feathers, clipping his claws with his beak meticulously, taking its time twiddling with his fingers and spreading his wings at large wingspan. Then , he flung to the Heaven his contented glee, as though sinning raucously its triumphal cri de coeur, a longtime contained anger between the fold of his chest; finally he got delivered. He shakes once more time his plumage, then flew back in a flight, in an  atmosphere of joy that circumfused the celebration,  right  to threshold of the gate. He perched on the still, as a sentinel of a gate. Since then, the gage door stayed still opened. He flew now and then from there to the top of the cherry tree. When the fruits ripped, I used to climb to highest limb of the tree, to crop the fist cherry, he usually picked on it, and  we disputed. I knew then it was time for harvest. He passed away few years later.
The cherry tree still blooming years after years, but the  disappeared from the region, due to a savage urbanization, that changed the landscape, and it topography, of shrubbery area, of thistles seeds,  its preferred food with ponds and rivulets and shady pine trees, that constituted its natural habitat, to highways, and housing projects, the sewage  took place of the canals, and culverts. It was the death of a region, once called The Fahss, in the suburbs of Algiers, the Capital of Algeria.

The other friend is a book, The Legends of the Fahss, it’s sort of, The Legend of the Fall, and A River runs through it, combined into an Algerian way of life style, in the last century, that  I am writing since five years, it’s a saga, I hope to finish editing it , sometimes soon,  if the circumstances permitted.
The third friend is my wallet, I try to keep it well fed and happy it  always gives me back when I needed the most. Like to say; what friends stand for.

Posted in Uncategorized | 1 Comment

El Macknine, the Algerian Goldfinch, Chardoneret Parva

“Happy Anniversary with!” They said to me
Oh! How sweet! And bien àpropos, It has been 3 years since I started my fist blog, and posting with, so by the way I say:
Thank you to WordPress team for notifying me with this trophy

Now! My calling: hear it! 

(Ps: you are not obliged to listen to it till the end! It’s so tweety, and it last too long.)



My Calling: on the making; If It is the last thing to do, It would be that one:

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings_Maya Angelou

I know why The Caged Birds sing, ah me,
when his wing is bruised and his bosom sore
when he hit the bars, and would  be free;
it is not a carol of joy or glee,
But a prayer that he  sends  from his hearth's deep core,
but a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings
I know why the caged bird sings

Watch this page

No, it’s not a joke, and it’s not an April fool, too. Though,  I had published this blog 2 years ago, it is  like if it was of yesterday, and even though, I renew my call, today: Let save the Algerian Goldfinch Mackneen.

Spring is here, and it is breeding time for El Makneen, the Algerian Goldfinch, like for billions of birds species on earth. Makneen is a nickname, one of  the  like for Tweety, the famous  Canary bird in a cage, with Tom the Cat of Walt Disney Toons, you know. As true as Cats are considered as the cleanest animals; The Nickname_”El Mackneen”, was given by an anonymous aficionado to the goldfinch because of its behavior of all day long taking care of its lit’le being feathers cleanness, bathing, and tremulously chirping, that is, besides the choice of its  prefered food of seeds, small insects  and fruits. Then,  It is the beloved pet in Algeria; for, imagine in Algiers, a city of ten million souls, a million  birds, each one in its own cage, and in each house per habitat. It’s a madness, not March, not even  an April foul.

Longtime before that, since the 20′-30’s, it was Ragtime then, in the States, Les Années-Folles, and Coco Chanel embodied that very well, and so, its was a hobby of sort then of a life style, that chic people, and  artists affectionately had a caged bird as pet a Canary, ever in Europe, or elsewhere. Then, in Algiers, Algeria, at that time, there were artists of Chaâbi Blues Music, Algerian singers, and part of  common people, as well, they had a special preference for the Goldfinch as pet.

Its became a symbol of Freedom, when Algerian people struggled for freedom, and  the Liberation of the country. Since,  El Baji, an Algerian artist and songwriter, as he had written the well-known song”El Mackneen-Ezzine” in prison, during the War of Algeria against France for occupation of the territory, in the time of the colonies era, that was  in the late 50s, after that all means of pacific claims of human rights and proposals were evacuated. So that, to get information from prisoners, the agents interrogating prisoners used all sort of expedients, and tools to make them talk. He was imprisoned and tortured_ He got inspired, then. Hence it was in vogue the French saying:”sing canary, sing.” That when  his jail guardian said this to him.

After the Independence of Algeria, in the 60’s, the Chaabi was blooming, due to the freedom of living, unraveled from the twine of curfew and all sort of restrictions; people literally explode of joy and envy of life. Plain-air concerts, musical soirées, weddings, ceremonies of all sorts took place in the evenings of Algeria. The Mackneen songs became the favorite themes for love songs, separated lovers, and longing for beloved ones, after it has been the hymn to Freedom.Then, the Châabi music_a Blues genre, dropped down off from the interest of people, in favor for Ray Music, a Reggae like, that took over and shadowed completely the Chaâbi for decades. The little bird fella, all in all, became a pet like any another, and then, the breeding business  took over the  artistry and poetry, of savoir-vivre. In short, the bird was tracked in its utmost environmental habitat, to the farther and wildest and isolated place, with nets, and glued thin sticks, put around ponds, and shrubs, to capture it alive.

Like I said, in the beginning, the Goldfinch, likes to bath and clean itself ever since in a while, and has a prefered shrub from which it extracts the seeds. That for, the braconeers look for that place, to dress their nets and traps cage around. While  the newly hunting enjoyment becoming a profession to the extreme limits, that is, it became now a protected species by the law. Because,  it is at risk in to extinction. There were_ lachers of birds, a free to flight of wild  chicks game, for its renewal breeding in  the fona, each year after a hunting season. I wish it will be done the same for the Mackneen, and it would exist an association for the protection of the Mackneen of Algeria, and the Mackneen would be the symbol for Algiers, the City emblem, and in its armories.

The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.

—The final stanza of Maya Angelou’s poem “Caged Bird”[67]

Of  distant hills of Oued-Roumane, they exist no more,

and of  Algerian Goldfinch, his tune is heard but none

_”You may say I am a dreamer,

but I am not the only one”._John Lennon

Pour Les Amis du chardonneret d’Alger,

for the heck of it, please get some guts, and free the lit’le dude from its cage.

Say hi to Ouled el Houma

Posted in Goldfinch, Birds, chardoneret, Environment, Goldfinch, Mackine, Birds, Algeria, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment