A.Word.A.Day -- stormy petrel stormy petrel A.Word.A.Day with Anu Garg Birds get little respect. We tend to look down at non-human animals in general, but we are particularly unfair when it comes to birds (although we have to look up at them). We call a stupid fellow a "bird brain". Australians call him a galah (a type of cockatoo). Something useless is said to be "for the birds". We name someone vain and self-conscious a peacock. One who is talkative or a hoarder is labeled a magpie. A cowardly or fearful fellow is a chicken... the list is endless. We even kill two birds with one stone. I'd rather the idiom be to feed two birds with one grain. This week we feature five terms coined after birds. Catch as many of these bird words as you can. After all, a word in the head is worth two in the book. stormy petrel stormy petrel (STOR-mee PE-truhl) noun 1. Any of various small sea birds of the family Hydrobatidae having dark feathers and lighter underparts, also known as Mother Carey's Chicken. 2.

One who brings trouble or whose appearance is a sign of coming trouble. [The birds got the name storm petrel or stormy petrel because old-time sailors believed their appearance foreshadowed a storm. It's not certain why the bird is named petrel. One unsubstantiated theory is that it is named after St Peter who walked on water in the Gospel of Matthew. The petrel's habit of flying low over water with legs extended gives the appearance that it's walking on the water.] See more usage examples of stormy petrel in Vocabulary.com's dictionary . "A colourful stormy petrel of the Conservative Party, Anthony Beaumont-Dark frequently found himself at odds with the party line in the Commons, and was well known for expressing his dissent in memorably quotable form." Obituary: Sir Anthony Beaumont-Dark; The Times (London, UK); Apr 4, 2006. X-Bonus In some circumstances, the refusal to be defeated is a refusal to be educated. -Margaret Halsey, novelist (1910-1997) Subscribe: Sign up to receive A.Word.A.Day in your mailbox every day.

"The most welcomed, most enduring piece of daily mass e-mail in cyberspace." -The New York Times Sponsored by: Ode to Mother Carey's Chicken by Theodore Watts-Dunton. Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. 1895. A Victorian Anthology, 1837-1895 On Seeing a Storm-Petrel in a Cage on a Cottage Wall and Releasing It GAZE not at me, my poor unhappy bird; That sorrow is more than human in thine eye; Too deep already is my spirit stirrd To see thee here, child of the sea and sky, Coopd in a cage with food thou canst not eat, Thy snow-flake solid, and solid those conquering feet That walkd the billows, while thy sweet-sweet-sweet Proclaimd the tempest nigh.

Bird whom I welcomd while the sailors cursd, Friend whom I blessd wherever keels may roam, Prince of my childish dreams, whom mermaids nursd In purple of billowssilver of ocean-foam, Abashd I stand before the mighty grief That quells all other: Sorrows king and chief: To ride the wind and hold the sea in fief, Then find a cage for home! From out thy jail thou seest yon heath and woods, But canst thou hear the birds or smell the flowers? Ah, no! those rain-drops twinkling on the buds Bring only visions of the salt sea-showers. The sea! the linnets pipe from hedge and heath; The sea! the honeysuckles whisper and breathe; And tumbling waves, where those wild-roses wreathe, Murmur from inland bowers. The mavis sings with gurgle and ripple and plash, To thee yon swallow seems a wheeling tern.

And when the rain recalls the briny lash Old Oceans kiss thou lovest,when thy sight Is mockd with Oceans horsesmanes of white, The long and shadowy flanks, the shoulders bright Bright as the lightnings flash, When all these scents of heather and brier and whin, All kindly breaths of land-shrub, flower, and vine, Recall the sea-scents, till thy featherd skin Tingles in answer to a dream of brine, When thou, remembering there thy royal birth, Dostsee between the bars a world of dearth, Is there a griefa grief on all the earth So heavy and dark as thine?

But I can buy thy freedomI (thank God!), Who lovd thee more than albatross or gull, Lovd thee when on the waves thy footsteps trod, Dreamd of thee when, becalmd, we lay a-hull T is I thy friend who once, a child of six, To find where Mother Carey fed her chicks, Climbd up the stranded punt, and with two sticks Tried all in vain to scull, Thy friend who owd a Paradise of Storm, The little dreamer of the cliffs and coves, Who knew thy mother, saw her shadowy form Behind the cloudy bastions where she moves, And heard her call: Come!

for the welkin thickens, And tempests mutter and the lightning quickens! Then, starting from his dream, would find the chickens Far-glittering memories mirrord in those eyes, As if there shone within each iris-ring An orbed worldocean and hills and skies! Those black wings ruffled whose triumphant sweep Conquerd in sport!yea, up the glimmering steep Of highest billow, down the deepest deep, Sported with victories! To see thee here!a coil of wilted weeds Beneath those feet that danced on diamond spray, Rider of sportive Oceans reinless steeds Winner in Mother Careys sabbath-fray When, stung by magic of the witchs chant, They rise, each foamy-crested combatant They rise and fall and leap and foam and gallop and pant Till albatross, sea-swallow, and cormorant Would flee like doves away!

And shalt thou ride no more where thou hast ridden, And feast no more in hyaline halls and caves, Master of Mother Careys secrets hidden, Master most equal of the wind and waves, Who never, save in stress of angriest blast, Askd ship for shelter,never, till at last The foam-flakes, hurld against the sloping mast, Slashd thee like whirling glaives! Where scarce the great sea-wanderer fares with thee, I come to take theenay, t is I, thy friend Ah, tremble notI come to set thee free; I come to tear this cage from off this wall, And take thee hence to that fierce festival Where billows march and winds are musical, Hymning the Victor-Sea! Yea, lift thine eyes, my own can bear them now: Thou rt free! thou rt free. Ah, surely a bird can smile! Dost know me, Petrel?

Dost remember how I fed thee in the wake for many a mile, Whilst thou wouldst pat the waves, then, rising, take The morsel up and wheel about the wake? Thou rt free, thou rt free, but for thine own dear sake I keep thee caged awhile. Mother Carey's Chickens Dictionary of Phrase and Fable — M Mother Carey's Chickens Stormy petrels. Mother Carey is Mater Cara. The French call these birds oiseaux de Notre Dame or aves Sanct&aeigh; Mariae. Chickens are the young of any fowl, or any small bird. “They are called the `sailor's' friends, come to warn them of an approaching storm; and it is most unlucky to kill them. The legend is that each bird contains the soul of a dead seaman.” (See Captain Marryat: Poor Jack, where the superstition is fully related.) Mother Carey's Goose. The great Black Petrel or Fulmar of the Pacific Ocean. Mother Carey is plucking her goose. It is snowing. (See Hulda.) Source: Dictionary of Phrase and Fable , E.

Cobham Brewer, 1894 What does chick mean? a child or young person; -- a term of endearment Origin: [OE. chykkyn, chyke, chicken.] Chambers 20th Century Dictionary(0.00 / 0 votes)Rate this definition: Chick chik, n. the young of fowls, esp. of the hen: a child, as a term of endearment.—ns. Chick′a-bid′dy, Chick′-a-did′dle, terms of endearment addressed to children; Chick′en, the young of birds, esp. of the hen: its flesh: a child: a faint-hearted person; Chick′en-haz′ard, a game at dice (see Hazard); Chick′en-heart, a cowardly person.—adj. Chick′en-heart′ed.—ns.

Chick′en-pox, a contagious febrile disease, chiefly of children, and bearing some resemblance to a very mild form of small-pox; Chick′ling, a little chicken; Chick′weed, a species of stitchwort, and one of the most common weeds of gardens and cultivated fields—for making poultices, and for feeding cage-birds, which are very fond of its leaves and seeds.—Mother Carey's chicken, a sailor's name for the Stormy Petrel; No chicken, one no longer young. [A.S. cicen; cf. Dut. kieken, Ger. küchlein.] Numerology The numerical value of chick in Chaldean Numerology is: 5 Pythagorean Numerology Wilson’s Stormy Petrel — YodelOut! Birds (Oceanites oceancius) Called also: MOTHER CAREY’S CHICKEN; DEVIL’S BIRD Length7 inches. Very long wings, with an extent of 16 inches, give appearance of greater size. Male and FemaleUpper parts, wings, and tail sooty black; paler underneath, and grayish on wing coverts.

The upper tail coverts and frequently the sides of rump and base of tail, white, Bill and feet black. Legs very long, and webs of toes mostly yellow. Tail square and even. RangeAtlantic Ocean, North and South America, nesting in southern seas (Kerguelen Island) in February; afterward migrating northward. SeasonCommon summer visitor off the coast of the United States. This is the little petrel most commonly seen off the coast of the United States in summer, silently flitting hither and thither with a company of its fellows like a lot of butterflies in their airy, hovering flight. Owing to the spread of their long wings they appear much larger than they really are, for in actual size the birds are only a trifle longer than the English sparrow, and look like the barn swallow; yet these tiny atoms of the air spend their “life on the ocean wave,” and have “their home on the rolling deep,” ” O’er the deep ! o’er the deep !

Where the whale and the shark and the swordfish sleep Outflying the blast and the driving rain,” like the stormy petrel of the east Atlantic (Procellaria pelagica), an even smaller species, which doubtless was the bird ” Barry Cornwall ” had in mind when he wrote his famous verses. Those who go down to the sea in ships are familiar with the petrels that gather in flocks in the wake of the vessel, coursing over the waves, now down in the trough, now up above the crest that threatens to break over their tiny heads; half leaping along a wave, half flying as their distended feet strike the water, and they bound upward again; darting swallow-fashion and skimming along the surface, or flitting like a butterfly above the refuse thrown overboard from the ship’s galley. ” But the most singular peculiarity of this bird,” to quote Wilson, for whom it was named, ” is its faculty of standing, and even running, on the surface of the water, which it performs with apparent facility.

When any greasy matter is thrown overboard, these birds instantly collect around it, and face to windward, with their long wings expanded, and their webbed feet patting the water, which the lightness of their bodies and the action of the wind on their wings enable them to do with ease. In calm weather they perform the same manoeuvre by keeping their wings just so much in action as to prevent their feet from sinking below the surface.” It is this appearance of walking on the waves, like the Apostle Peter, that has caused his name to be applied to them. Particles of animal matter, particularly anything fat or oily,are what the petrels are searching for when they follow a ship; and seeing any such they quickly settle down to enjoy it, then rising again, soon overtake a vessel under steam.

Their wing power is marvellous, yet when a gale is blowing in full’ blast at sea, these little birds are often blown far inland; the capped petrel, for example, that has its proper home in Guadeloupe, in the West Indies, having been found in the interior of New York state after a prolonged ” sou’easter.” The petrels swim little, if any, though their webbed feet are so admirably adapted for swimming, which might be a greater protection to them than flying when the storms blow. The lighthouses attract many to their death on the stern New England coast. As night approaches the birds show signs of weariness from the perpetual exercise; for not only have they kept pace with a steamer through the day, but they have made innumerable excursions far from the ship, and played from side to side with a flock of companions at hide-and-go-seek or cross-tag until the eye tires of watching them.

But by the time it is dark the last one of the merry little hunters has settled down upon the waves, with head tucked under wing, to rest until dawn while ” rocked in the cradle of the deep ” ; yet it is apparently the very same flock of birds that are busily looking for breakfast the next morning in the wake of the ship, which they must have overtaken with the wings of Mercury. It would seem these innocent sea-rovers might escape persecution at the hands of man; but an English globe-trotter tells of seeing not only sailors, but passengers, too, who ordinarily feel only camaraderie for other fellow travellers on a lonely vessel, shoot these tiny waifs hovering about the ship, to break the tediousness of a long voyage. With the guilty con-sciences such sailors must have, it is small wonder the petrel is a bird of ill omen to them. They claim it is a harbinger of storms, like its large relative the albatross; and it might easily be, for it delights in rough weather that brings an abundance of food to the surface.

All the gruesome superstitions which sailors have clustered around the birds of this entire family, in fact, were woven by Coleridge into his ” Rime of the Ancient Mariner.” According to Brunnich, the Faro Islanders draw a wick through the body of the petrel, that is oily from the eating of much fat, and burn the poor thing as a lamp. Among the many senseless stories sailors tell of the petrel is that it never goes ashore to nest, but carries its solitary egg under its wing until hatched. But the members of the Transit of Venus expedition in the Southern Ocean, several years ago, discovered a large colony of these birds nesting on Kergulen Island. Heretofore, ornithologists, misled by Audubon, had confounded the nest of Wilson’s with that of Leach’s petrel. Nests containing one white egg each were found in the crevices of rock during January and February.

In the latter month the author has seen the birds in great numbers off the Azores, but, unhappily, not on them, for the steamer did not stop there; however, it is not unlikely they nest on these islands, which would seem a convenient rallying place for the birds from the African coast and those that course along the Western Atlantic from Labrador to Patagonia. The young birds are fed by that disgusting process known as regurgitation, that is, raising the food from the stomachs by the parents, which Nuttall says sounds like the cluttering of frogs. Baskett writes in his ” Story of the Birds ” : ” The baby petrel revels in the delights of a cod-liver-oil diet from the start.” Ordinarily quite silent birds, these petrels sometimes call out weet, weet, or a low twittering chirp that might be written peup. But it is near its nest that a bird is most noisy ; and until very recently the home life of this common petrel was absolutely unknown.

Leach’s, the White-rumped, or the Forked-tailed Petrel, as it is variously known (Oceandroma leucorhoa) was the bird carefully studied by Audubon, but confused by him with Wilson’s petrel, in which mistake many ornithologists followed him. In size and plumage the birds are almost identical, but the forked tail of Leach’s petrel is its distinguishing mark. The outer tail feathers are fully a half inch longer than the middle pair, making the bird look more swallow-like even than Wilson’s. Leach’s petrels, while quite as common on the Pacific coast as on the Atlantic, have their chief nesting sites in the Bay of Fundy, while a few nest off the coast of Maine; for it is a more northern species than Wilson’s, Virginia and California being its southern boundaries. Nevertheless it is by no means so common off the coast of New England and the Middle States, except around the lighthouses, as Wilson’s petrel, that must migrate thousands of miles from the Southern Ocean to pass its summer with us.

Audubon noted that these petrels were seldom seen about their nesting sites during the day, but seemed to have some nocturnal proclivities; for they approached the shore after dark, and flew around like so many bats in the twilight, all the while uttering a wild, plaintive cry. But Chamberlain claims that one of the birds, usually the male, sits on its egg all day while its mate is out foraging at sea. ” When handled,” he says, ” these birds emit from mouth and nostrils a small quantity of oil-like fluid of a reddish color and pungent, musk-like odor. The air at the nesting site is strongly impregnated with this odor, and it guides a searcher to the nest.” Sailors have dubbed them with numerous vile names on account of this peculiar means of defense. A few bits of sticks and grasses laid at the end of a tunnel burrowed in the ground, at the top of an ocean cliff, very much as the bank swallow constructs its nest, make the only home these sea-rovers know. Such a tunnel contains one egg, about an inch to an inch and a half long, and marked, chiefly around the larger end, with small reddish-brown spots.

In most respects Leach’s petrel is identical with Wilson’s, and the reader is there-fore referred to the fuller account of that bird. Birds are a miracle because they prove to us there is a finer, simpler state of being which we may strive to attain. Douglas Coupland Birds are a group of endothermic vertebrates, characterised by feathers, a beak with no teeth, the laying of hard-shelled eggs, a high metabolic rate, a four-chambered heart, and a lightweight but strong skeleton. Omen - definition of omen by The Free Dictionary Omen - definition of omen by The Free Dictionary Related to omen: bad omen o·men 1. A phenomenon supposed to portend good or evil; a prophetic sign. 2. Prognostication; portent: birds of ill omen. tr.v. o·mened, o·men·ing, o·mens To be a prophetic sign of; portend. [Latin ōmen.] 1. a phenomenon or occurrence regarded as a sign of future happiness or disaster 2. prophetic significance 1. any event believed to portend something good or evil; augury; portent.

2. prophetic significance; presage. 3. to be an omen of; portend. 4. to divine, as if from omens. [1575–85; < Latin] Omen handwriting on the wall A portent or prophecy of disaster, a sign of impending and unavoidable doom, an indication or sense of what is to come; often the writing on the wall. The allusion is to the Book of Daniel in the Bible, in which a hand mysteriously appeared and wrote a message on Balshazzar’s palace wall foretelling his destruction and the loss of his kingdom. my little finger told me that Pain or pleasurable sensation in the fingers was considered by the ancient Roman augurs a sign of evil or joy to come. The pricking of one’s thumb was considered a portent of evil. By the pricking of my thumbs Something wicked this way comes. (Shakespeare, Macbeth, IV, i) Thus, one’s finger or thumb can be said to “tell” the future. Sometimes my little finger told me that is used to indicate that one has access to certain information, the source of which may be controversial and unscientific.

stormy petrel One whose arrival is seen as a harbinger of trouble. Stormy petrels (Procellaria pelágica) are the sea birds which sailors call Mother Carey’s chickens. Petrel is derived from the Italian Petrello ‘little Peter,’ in allusion to the way these birds appear to walk on the sea, just as St. Peter walked on the Lake of Gennesareth. Stormy petrels are most often observed just prior to and during a storm; thus, their arrival portends deteriorating weather conditions. The expression may now be applied to anyone whose coming is inevitably followed by disaster or tragedy. Dr. von Esmarch is regarded at court as a stormy petrel, and every effort was made to conceal his visit to the German emperor. (The World, April, 1892) See also Mother Carey is plucking her chickens, WEATHER . weather breeder See WEATHER .

mudcat.org: Maritime term 'Mother Carey' Maritime term 'Mother Carey' From: radriano Date: 29 Sep 03 - 06:27 PM I caught Tom Lewis' performance at Hyde Street Pier in San Francisco on Sept 27 and picked up a copy of his excellent CD "Tinker Tailor Soldier Singer!" One of the selections is "Mother Carey," a C.Fox Smith poem Tom set to music. I understand that Mother Carey is one of the mythological personages of the sea. Anyone have more information on this? I've not run across this term before. Date: 29 Sep 03 - 06:33 PM My Dad used to call seagulls 'Mother Carey's Chikcens'. It doesn't explain - just addsto. Mike Date: 29 Sep 03 - 06:37 PM If memory serves me correctly, Mother Carey was the wife (?) or some relation of Davy Jones Date: 29 Sep 03 - 06:49 PM Mater cara = Virgin Mary Mother Carey's chickens (stormy petrels) are said to be the souls of dead sailors.

I've never heard of Mother Carey in any other context. From: Q (Frank Staplin) Date: 29 Sep 03 - 07:35 PM The Mater cara derivation is from the American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language. I have my doubts- I think the connection is fortuitous. The American Heritage Dictionary has a number of questionable interpretations. 1767- The name applied to petrels by sailors. Carteret- In Hawkesworth's Voyage. OED. In 1864, in the Athenaeum, it was defined as sailor's slang for snow. Also spelled Cary. Oxford English Dictionary. From: kendall Date: 29 Sep 03 - 07:39 PM I sailed with a crazy guy from Prince Edward Island, and he called those birds the Newfoundland Airforce. Date: 29 Sep 03 - 07:40 PM In the plural - Mother Carey's chickens - also was used for falling snow (nautical pre-1864) Mother Carey's goose for the larges of the petrels.

My slang dictionary also says: "applied to faring alike and paying the same" (1820-50). I seem to remember Peter Bellamy using it in a song, but can't remember in which. Something along the lines of Down to Mother Carey..", Mick From: mack/misophist Date: 29 Sep 03 - 11:54 PM One of Robert Graves' fiction works Watch The North Wind Rise takes place in a pagan culture and there's some discussion of Mother Carey there. I wouldn't mention it except that he's considered an authoruty. From: Anglo Date: 30 Sep 03 - 12:38 PM MCP's reference is to Peter's setting of Kipling's "Anchor Song," (which Tom Lewis has also recorded, as have many others such as ï¿½well, modesty forbids. :-) The line is : And we're off to Mother Carey (Walk her down to Mother Carey!) Oh, we're bound for Mother Carey where she feeds her chicks at sea! Anglo Date: 30 Sep 03 - 12:47 PM Thanks to all who responded to this.

I also did some net surfing and found: Mother Carey's Chickens is an alternate sailors name for storm petrels, and once in use there, has no doubt somehow also been transposed to another ship-following seabird, the Giant Petrel. We do know, I thought , who Mother Carey was; it is a corruption of Mater Cara, one of the epithets of Maria, the mother of Christ, and as such often used by the Spanish and Portuguese sailors who were the first westerners in the southern seas. Wim Vader, Tromsï¿½ Museum 9037 Tromsï¿½, Norway And I also found this: The First Hypertext Edition of The Dictionary of Phrase and Fable THE DICTIONARY OF PHRASE AND FABLE BY E. COBHAM BREWER FROM THE NEW AND ENLARGED EDITION OF 1894 Mother Carey's Chickens [are] stormy petrels. Mother Carey is Mater Cara. The French call these birds oiseaux de Notre Dame or aves Sanct&aeigh; Mariae. Chickens are the young of any fowl, or any small bird.

"They are called the `sailor's' friends, come to warn them of an approaching storm; and it is most unlucky to kill them. The legend is that each bird contains the soul of a dead seaman." And this: The legend of "Mother Carey" has a common Tracian foundation for all the South-Eastern European peoples, being also met throughout the Balkans. Our children's stage version shows Mother Carey as an old woman who was Turned into rocks, together with her flock of twenty sheep, as a punishment for defying god Gebeleisis, who was the master of changeable weather in Dacian mithology. The legend is accompanied by the ol tradition of celebrating spring through the so-called "Mother Carey's Days" -the belief is that each of the seven days of Mother Carey's is a "foreseener" of good weather and good luck (or, on the contrary, it predicts bad weather and bad luck) for the one who chose it as "the day to be" a week before. Mother Carey was a bad woman whose son got married agaist her will.

On a cold winter day,in order to annoy her daughter -in-law,she gave her a black woolen ball and sent her to the river to wash the wool until it turned white. The girl tried hard her fingers started to bleed,but the woolen ball wouldn't change its colour. She got desperate and started to cry.Just then a young man came up and gave her a red lower telling her to wash the wool with it. The girl thanked him, put the flower into the water and the black woolen ball turned white. A few days later Mother Carey sent the girl for wild strawberries into the woods and the young man helped her again. Thinking spring had come, the old woman set off to the mountaiton top taking her flock of twenty sheep with her. Warming herself, she took off,one by one,all her twelve waistcoats. But the weather was very changeable at that time of year: it started to snow and everything got frozen. Mother Carey, the bad woman, together with flock froze, too, turning into rocks as the legend goes. In the Moldavian mountains there is a group of rocks named with Mother Carey' name (Docha).

I'm not sure where the last bit about the "Legend of Mother Carey" comes from. Date: 30 Sep 03 - 07:16 PM Hi Jerry, Nah, the song contents are different.

Here's a transcription of what's on Tom's CD: MOTHER CAREY Tom Lewis, Tinker Tailor Soldier Singer (ASM104D) Words by C.Fox Smith, melody by Tom Lewis As late I went a-walking, a-walking by the sea I thought I heard men talking, I heard them call to me Oh, sorrow take the city streets, the weary city stones 'Tis time for you to leave them while the strength is in your bones Shake her and wake her, Johnny, there's the ship for you Lying in the Royal Roads waiting for a crew And every brace and backstay is singing soft and low Mother Carey wants us and we're all bound to go Chorus: Yes, we're all bound to go, Johnny, all bound to go If it's late or early, lads, if you will or no Sure as sun do rise, Johnny, sure as tides do flow When Mother Carey wants us then we're all bound to go As late I went a-walking, a-walking by the shore I thought of ports I'd like to see I hadn't seen before Across the strait the lighthouse kept winking fine and free To show me where the road is that leads to open sea

 Shake her and wake her, Johnny, yonder there she rides Lying in the Royal Roads swinging at the tides Singing to the muttering tides that past her cables flow Mother Carey wants us and we're all bound to go As late I went a-walking, a-walking by the tide I thought m'love was with me and walking by m'side So kind she did reproach me, so soft her eyes did shine Yet could not hold beside her this restless heart of mine Shake her and wake her, Johnny, can't you hear them calling Out across the Royal Roads and the dusk a-falling Time and time for me to leave you, though I love you so Mother Carey wants us and we're all bound to go From: radriano Date: 01 Oct 03 - 05:13 PM Hey, Jerry, you don't happen to remember the name of that poem that Tom Goux recited, do you?

Anglo, nice to hear from you. I trust you are doing well? I keep thinking of a song I heard you doing at the last Hyde Street Pier Sea Music Festival. I only heard snippets of it as I was passing by and the only solid thing that sticks in my mind is that you played, on the concertina in between verses of quite a long song, a melodic phrase that ended with two beats of a very strident chord. Does this sound at all familiar? Richard Date: 02 Oct 03 - 09:10 PM Lyr. Add: ANCHOR SONG HEH! Walk her round. Heave, ah heave her short again! Over, snatch her over, there, and hold her on the pawl. Loose all sail, and brace your yards back and full- Ready jib to pay her off and heave short all!

Well, ah fare you well; we can stay no more with you, my love- Down, set down your liquor and your girl from off your knee; For the wind has come to say: "You must take me while you may, If you'd go to Mother Carey (Walk her down to Mother Carey!), Oh, we're bound to Mother Carey where she feeds her chicks at sea!" Heh! Walk her round. Break, ah break it out o' that! Break our starboard-bower out, speak, awash, and clear. Port-port she casts, with the harbour-mud beneath her foot, And that's the last o' bottom we shall see this year! Well, ah, fare you well, for we've got to take her out again- Take her out in ballast, riding light and cargo-free. And it's time to clear and quit When the hawser grips the bitt, So we'll pay you with the foresheet and a promise from the sea! Heh! Tally on. Aft and walk away with her! Handsome to the cathead now, O tally on the fall! Stop, seize and fish, and easy on the davit-guy.

Up, well up the fluke of her, and inboard haul! Well, ah fare you well, for the Channel wind's took hold of us, Choking down our voices as we snatch the gaskets free. And it's blowing up for night, And she's dropping Light on Light, And she's snorting under bonnets for a breath of open sea, Wheel, full and by, but she'll smell her road alone tonight. Sick she is and harbour-sick- O sick to clear the land! Roll down to brest with the old Red Ensign over us- Carry on and thrash her out with all she'll stand! Well, ah fare you well, and it's Ushant slams the door on us, Whirling like a windmill through the dirty scud to lee: Till the last, last flicker goes From the tumbling water-rows, And we're off to Mother Carey (Walk her down to Mother Carey!), Oh, we're bound for Mother Carey where she feeds her chicks at sea! Peter Bellamy was probably the first to put a tune to this evocative poem about weighing anchor and leaving harbour. Surprised it is not in the DT.

From: radriano Date: 03 Oct 03 - 11:14 AM This is getting interesting. Tom Goux refers to Mother Carey as mother of witches yet other sources give Mother Carey as a corruption of Mater Cara, one of the epithets of Maria, the mother of Christ (see earlier post in this thread and below). Here's something from "The Oxford Companion to Ships and the Sea," edited by Peter Kemp, Oxford University Press, 1976: "Mother Carey's Chickens, the name given by sailors to small sea birds (Procellaria pelagica), the presence of which near a ship was supposed to indicate the approach of a storm. The name Mother Carey derives from the latin Mater Cara whose birds - Aves Santae Mariae - they were supposed to be. French sailors call them les oiseaux de Nortre Dame. The bird is ordinarily known as the Storm Petrel, a corruption of the Italian Petrello or Little Peter, a name bestowed on it because of its ability to run lightly over the surface of the sea, thus imitating St. Peter's achievement of walking on the water." More references on Monday.

I'm picking up a copy of The Dictionary of Nautical Literacy over the weekend that contains more information on Mother Carey. Radriano From: radriano Date: 06 Oct 03 - 11:34 AM I went to the National Maritime Library in San Francisco and learned more about Mother Carey this weekend. From The Dictionary of Nautical Literacy, by Robert McKenna, International Marine/McGraw Hill, 2001: "Mother Carey's Chickens, sailor's term for storm petrels or similar seabirds. In folklore, Mother Carey is the woman in charge of Fiddler's Green, the last home of the souls of drowned sailors. She sees to it that her guests are comfortable and, from time to time, lets them visit the upper world. When such visits occur, the souls take the form of seabirds known to the sailors as storm petrels. For this reason, no real sailor will ever harm a storm petrel." From Superstitions of the Sea, by James Clary, Maritime History in Art, St.

Clair, Michigan, 1994: "Perhaps the most famous sea bird is the black storm petrel also known as Mother Carey's chickens, alamottie, storm fish, or litter Peter. Believed to appear before a storm as a warning to mariners, as its Latin name, Procellaria, infers, it did in fact warn sailors of a coming tempest by gathering under the stern of their ships. The severity of the storm was supposedly calculated by the number of birds sighted. The storm petrel commonly seen in great numbers in all seas of the world from coast to coast appeared as a close companion of the seafarer, as they were known to tirelessly follow ships to feed on the garbage thrown overboard. Still, early mariners saw the bird as a bad omen because of its black coat of feathers and, because it was often sighted hundreds of miles from land, seldom tiring, resting, or feeding. Its storm-foreboding character is described in this verse: Oh, stormy, stormy petrel!

Thou art a bird of woe, Yet would I thou couldst tell me half of the misery thous dost know Although befriending man by warning him of approaching storms, man's unjustified contempt for the bird was exemplified in this verse: Thus doth the prophet of good or ill Meet hate from the creatures he serveth still; Yet he ne'er falters; so, petrel, spring Once more on the waves with thy stormy wing. [My apologies, I neglected to copy the references as to where these verses come from (radriano)] Because they were always seen on the fly and rarely noticed on land, it was believed that the little bird hatched its eggs beneath its wings, and never rested Mother Carey was the fable wife of Davy Jones of the sea, both of whom were mythical maritime deities. To retire to "Davy Jones' locker" is the sea term for drowning. Storm petrels were often referred to as Mother Carey's chickens because they were believed to be the spirits of dead sailors. Besides being able to swim, petrels possess the unique attribute of supporting themselves with flapping wings while rapidly striking the water with their webbed feed, which has given cause to them being compared to St.

Peter walking on the water." And finally, from Salt-water Poems and Ballads, by John Masefield, The MacMillan Company, Publishers, New York, 1913, the poem mentioned earlier in this thread: MOTHER CAREY (As told me by the bo'sun) Mother Carey? She's the mother o' the witches 'N' all them sort o'rips; She's a fine gell to look at, but the hitch is, She's a sight too fond of ships. She lives upon an iceberg to the norred, 'N' her man he's Davy Jones, 'N' she combs the weeds upon her forred With pore drowned sailors' bones. She's the mother o'the wrecks, 'n' the monther Of all big winds as blows; She's up to some deviltry or other When it storms, or sleets, or snows.

The noise of the wind's her screamin', 'I'm arter a plump, young, fine, Brass-buttoned, beefy-ribbed young seam'n So as me 'n' my mate kin dine.' She's a hungry old rip 'n' a cruel For sailor-men like we, She's give a many mariners the gruel 'N' a long sleep under sea. She's the blood o' many a crew upon her 'N' the bones of many a wreck, 'N' she's barnacles a-growin' on her 'N' shark's teeth round her neck. I ain't never had no schoolin' Nor read no books like you, But I knows 't ain't healthy to be foolin' With that there gristly two. You're young, you things, 'n' you're lairy, But if you're to make old bones, Steer clear, I says, o'Mother Carey, 'N' that there Davy Jones. Date: 07 Oct 03 - 11:54 AM This has been an informative read.

I think that given the range and distance that both petrels and sailors travel, that it would be unwise to try to limit the term used to a particular species. Anyone - including the experts who have ever tried to see these birds at sea - let alone to specifically identfy these tiny birds from a pitching vessel - will testify as to how difficult it is. There are ways to do this especially on the odd calm day, but the average sailor would be unlikely to make these distinctions. I suspect that any small black and white petrel seen 'walking' on the surface of the water would be Mother Carey's Chickens. From: GUEST Date: 08 Oct 03 - 11:14 AM About ten years ago I was sailing from Antigua, W.I. up to Newport, R.I. on an old ketch called "Ring-Andersen." The skipper was a great sailor, a Swedish bloke named Arne Frisell. He gave me a warning about Mother Carey's Chickens that I'll never forget.

He said "If one of them lands on board you better hunker down, 'cause they'll blow your ears off!" Apparently he was referring to the chaotic flapping and squaking they make when they land on something solid and have difficulty taking off again. You have to grab them as they're flapping and squaking and pecking and you have to throw them overbaord so they can take off from the water. This never happened on that particular trip, but I was always ready to hunker down if a Mother Carey's Chicken came aboard. Rev Mother | Define Mother at Dictionary.com mothery, adjective Word Origin C16: perhaps from mother1, but compare Spanish madre scum, Dutch modder dregs, Middle Low German modder decaying object, mudde sludge Collins English Dictionary - Complete & Unabridged 2012 Digital Edition © William Collins Sons & Co. Ltd.

1979, 1986 © HarperCollins Publishers 1998, 2000, 2003, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2009, 2012 Word Origin and History for mother Expand n. Old English modor "female parent," from Proto-Germanic *mothær (cf. Old Saxon modar, Old Frisian moder, Old Norse moðir, Danish moder, Dutch moeder, Old High German muoter, German Mutter), from PIE *mater- "mother" (cf. Latin mater, Old Irish mathir, Lithuanian mote, Sanskrit matar-, Greek meter, Old Church Slavonic mati), "[b]ased ultimately on the baby-talk form *mā- (2); with the kinship term suffix *-ter-" [Watkins]. Spelling with -th- dates from early 16c., though that pronunciation is probably older. Mother nature first attested c.1600; mother earth is from 1580s.

Mother tongue "one's native language" first attested late 14c. Mother of all ________ 1991, is Gulf War slang, from Saddam Hussein's use in reference to the coming battle; it is an Arabic idiom (as well as an English one), cf. Ayesha, second wife of Muhammad, known as Mother of Believers. Mother Carey's chickens is late 18c. sailors' nickname for storm petrels, or for snowflakes. Mother lode attested by c.1882, from mining [1849]. "a thick substance concreting in liquors; the lees or scum concreted" [Johnson], probably from Middle Dutch modder "filth, dregs," from PIE *meu- (see mud ). v. 1540s, "to be the mother of," from mother (n.1). Meaning "to take care of" is from 1863. Related: Mothered; mothering.

Online Etymology Dictionary, © 2010 Douglas Harper : Every mother other one of 'em cried foul noun The leader, usually the elder and mentor, of younger homosexuals (1970s+ Homosexuals) A despicable person; motherfucker : I looked into the wallet of one of the mothers (fr black) A fine, interesting, or remarkable event, object, or person; momma : Grab these mothers. They'll really do the job/ When a good-looking girl passes a ''big man'' on the street, instead of a whistle she gets an approving Motha Higby, especially if she's a cool mother (1950s+ Black) A problem or difficulty; motherfucker [both black senses fr the very useful and general motherfucker] The Dictionary of American Slang, Fourth Edition by Barbara Ann Kipfer, PhD. and Robert L. Chapman, Ph.D. Copyright (C) 2007 by HarperCollins Publishers. Omens - definition of omens by The Free Dictionary Omens - definition of omens by The Free Dictionary 1. A phenomenon supposed to portend good or evil; a prophetic sign. 2.

Prognostication; portent: birds of ill omen. tr.v. o·mened, o·men·ing, o·mens To be a prophetic sign of; portend. [Latin ōmen.] 1. a phenomenon or occurrence regarded as a sign of future happiness or disaster 2. prophetic significance 1. any event believed to portend something good or evil; augury; portent. 2. prophetic significance; presage. 3. to be an omen of; portend. 4. to divine, as if from omens. [1575–85; < Latin] Omen handwriting on the wall A portent or prophecy of disaster, a sign of impending and unavoidable doom, an indication or sense of what is to come; often the writing on the wall. The allusion is to the Book of Daniel in the Bible, in which a hand mysteriously appeared and wrote a message on Balshazzar’s palace wall foretelling his destruction and the loss of his kingdom. my little finger told me that Pain or pleasurable sensation in the fingers was considered by the ancient Roman augurs a sign of evil or joy to come.

The pricking of one’s thumb was considered a portent of evil. By the pricking of my thumbs Something wicked this way comes. (Shakespeare, Macbeth, IV, i) Thus, one’s finger or thumb can be said to “tell” the future. Sometimes my little finger told me that is used to indicate that one has access to certain information, the source of which may be controversial and unscientific. stormy petrel One whose arrival is seen as a harbinger of trouble. Stormy petrels (Procellaria pelágica) are the sea birds which sailors call Mother Carey’s chickens. Petrel is derived from the Italian Petrello ‘little Peter,’ in allusion to the way these birds appear to walk on the sea, just as St. Peter walked on the Lake of Gennesareth. Stormy petrels are most often observed just prior to and during a storm; thus, their arrival portends deteriorating weather conditions. The expression may now be applied to anyone whose coming is inevitably followed by disaster or tragedy. Dr. von Esmarch is regarded at court as a stormy petrel, and every effort was made to conceal his visit to the German emperor.

(The World, April, 1892) See also Mother Carey is plucking her chickens, WEATHER . weather breeder See WEATHER .

Question: What bird did sailors call Mother Carey’s Chicken?
Answer: Stormy Petrel