It all started with (wait for it) a yard sale. And of course it was my husband who spotted a pair of framed bird prints someone was asking $5 for. We bought them.
Turns out they're hand-colored lithographs by John and Elizabeth Gould, published in the 1830s and part of their "Birds of Europe" series. One (on the right) is a "Doubtful Sparrow" and the other a "Lesser Grey Shrike." (Aren't bird names wonderful?!)
Leap ahead to, what else, another yard sale, and he picked up a pair of framed Audubon bird prints. Not, of course, from the original folio, but big and beautiful and framed.
Then, upgrading years later, Jerry picked up a later Gould print at an antiquarian book fair. We framed it and have it hanging on the stairs.
Much funkier, there's a pair of bird prints (1950s?) that I picked up at a yard sale and have hanging in our guest room. I love them but I think I'm alone in that sentiment.
Then there's a sassy smokin' pelican that I bought for Jerry at a print shop in Baltimore. It's advertising art. French. A VERY large bird with long eyelashes. And I knew Jerry would love it.
On our mantle there's a fleet of birds. Picked up on our travels. My favorite is the cast rooster which must have been used in a fireplace. I bought it at a flea market in Spain and schlepped it all over Europe and finally home.
Then there are the bird mugs. Lots of them. Including an utterly goofy pair that our daughter brought back for us from Europe.
And finally my favorite is a collage by artist Barbara Baum. A bird (robin?) is lifting a silverly strand of words from a rain battered urban landscaping. I got it for one of my bigger birthdays. How it looks changes with the light, and what it shows is a perfect metaphor for writing.
Are you a collector? Did your collection creep up on you or was it deliberate?
