Lintukoto // Bird Haven

Thu-Fri June 4–5, 2026 at 7 pm
Maunula-talo

Lempikuoro

JULIA LAINEMA

TRANSLATIONS
Lyrics and monologues

We recommend turning your mobile device SIDEWISE / horizontally

All translations by Elissa Shaw & AI unless otherwise noted

ACT I – While We Observe the Birds

♫ Olli Korte­kangas: Medi­taatio (1999) // Meditation

Maunula
I lived in Maunula for a large part of my child­hood, right on the edge of Central Park. The Central Park is a place where I spent time both alone and with family and friends. While walking the trails, I have been filled with joy, and at times, I have also felt sadness —during which a walk in the forest brought comfort. In the winter, we would go cross-country skiing there, ending with coffee and dough­nuts at the Maunu­lan­maja ski lodge. In the spring, the first wood anemones and the babbling of the forest stream would lift my spirits. From last summer, I vividly remember how my daughter and I marveled at the swarms of tadpoles in a forest pond.

Nesting Season
Right now outdoors, the birds’ nesting season is underway. At this time, over 150 diffe­rent bird species nest in Helsinki: there are eiders and goldc­rests, crested tits and swifts, bull­finches and chaf­finches, crows and barnacle geese. They call to one another with songs and dances, searc­hing for a suitable rocky islet, a fork in a branch, or an eave. They carry along twigs, moss, blades of grass, feat­hers, birch bark scales, cattail seed fluff, and spiderwebs. From these, they weave a nest for their chicks.

♫ Antti Suoma­lainen: Rakkaani metsä (2026, premiere) // My Beloved Forest
Text by Rita Anttila

The Birder
Already as a child I was into birdwatc­hing. I was about 10 years old and had gone to Viikki after school one after­noon to spot birds, as usual. One of the bird towers was incre­dibly crowded; I’d never seen such a crush of people there. An older birder told me that there was a Black-winged Stilt there, the first time it had ever been seen in Finland. He let me look at the bird through his spot­ting scope. It looked a bit like an Oystercatcher. That evening, the bird was on the TV news, and I felt proud that I happened to be in exactly the right place.

The Peacock
I moved to Hert­to­niemi from Nort­hern Finland. The first time I encoun­tered a phea­sant, I called the Korkea­saari Zoo and said, “One of your female peacocks must have escaped, because it’s screa­ming in our yard.” Well, they replied that all their peacocks were accounted for and asked if it might be a phea­sant. After arguing for a while that it defi­ni­tely wasn’t a phea­sant, I Googled it and realized that, well, it actually was a phea­sant. I had to get used to them because they were cons­tantly in our housing company’s parking lot, screaming.

The Wood Grouse
I was coming home from school in the sixth grade. We had quite recently moved into an old detached house, and from the living room window, on could only see the tops of apple trees. When I looked out the window, I saw a large bird sitting pictu­resquely in the fork of a branch. This had to be captured! I scrambled to find the digital camera, but I couldn’t find it. I dialed my mom’s work number and wailed into the kitchen phone: “Where is our camera just when I need it? There’s a wood grouse sitting in our apple tree!” I was so annoyed that my mom didn’t grasp the urgency of the situation—and then she even started to laugh. The bird managed to fly away, and to top it off, my mom doubted my iden­ti­fica­tion. After all that passion, it was hard to admit that it might have actually been a pheasant.

The Thin­king Magpie
Often, when I’m ponde­ring a work matter, my gaze drifts to the window, to the swaying birches, and lands on a magpie. He looks (hardly at me) and I look at him, gree­ting him in my mind. This magpie, whenever this happens, is a lucky friend to me. I often get a good idea or my thoughts fall into place while I’m watc­hing the magpie. When the magpie flies off again, my thin­king is done, and I get back to work.

♫ Leevi Made­toja: Kevä­tunta (1925) // Spring Slumber
Text by L. Onerva

The Nigh­tin­gale
Walking through a grove at sunrise in the summer while a nigh­tin­gale is singing feels like being in the right place at the right time, even though you’re actually heading home way too late.

♫ Wilhelm Peterson-Berger: I furus­kogen (1893) // In the Pine Forest
Text by Helena Nyblom

The Black-throated Loon
There are loons on our cottage lake. Someone once said that the loon only nests in clear waters, and that a lake is clean if there is a loon present. My mother and I wondered if the lake water had started to turn browner. I began to fear the loons might disap­pear. One summer, I stood on the lakes­hore for so long that they finally showed them­selves. I wondered, though, if I would even notice if their nesting failed year after year. What if that same couple—old relics—simply returns to the same lake out of habit, and no new loons are born? And then, one year, they simply won’t bob up to the surface anymore, no matter if I stand on the shore through days and nights.

Playful Magpies
My mother was on the balcony. Somet­hing on the ridge of the roof of the house oppo­site caught her atten­tion. There were magpies there. And what on earth were they doing! They were sled­ding down the roof, jumping onto their wings, and flying back to the queue for another turn. Everyt­hing was in good order—they were visibly enjo­ying them­selves and having fun!

♫ Clément Janequin: Le Chant Des Oiseaux (1528) // The Song of the Birds

The Pigeon and the Gulls
A pigeon and two gulls. The pigeon was injured, drag­ging one of its wings, while the gulls pecked at it every so often. I was horri­fied; in my child’s mind, I felt we should have helped the pigeon against the gulls. My mother explained that this is how nature works, and that it isn’t sensible to fight against it.

Prepared Birds
As novice biolo­gists, we were taught bird iden­ti­fica­tion using prepared speci­mens. The bird skins prepared for teac­hing were stretched over more or less bird-shaped molds made of mate­rials like wire mesh. One grotesque detail has stuck in my mind: at least the largest bird speci­mens, such as the Black Wood­pecker and the Black-throated Loon, were fitted with “butt handles.” A stick prot­ruded from the bird’s cloaca so that hand­ling the specimen wouldn’t wear out its feat­hers and down. I remember some students grab­bing these speci­mens and fencing with them—after all, a loon has a very sharp beak

♫ Teemu Tommola: Puna­tulk­ku­metsä (2023) // The Bull­finch Forest

Endan­gered Status
The assess­ment of endan­gered bird species has been conducted six times, most recently in 2019. Based on this assess­ment, experts publish a “Red List.” It iden­ti­fies which of Finland’s bree­ding birds are extinct, endan­gered, or near threa­tened.

The Red List has grown every time an assess­ment has been made. There are now 86 endan­gered bird species on the list. In addi­tion, 34 species are “near threatened”—meaning they aren’t endan­gered yet, but almost. One has already disap­peared enti­rely: the Yellow-breasted Bunting was last seen in 2007.

Endan­ger­ment increases as bird habi­tats vanish. Too many old-growth forests have been logged, and managed forests do not contain enough decaying wood. Agricul­tural envi­ron­ments have become more uniform as produc­tion has been stream­lined and cattle grazing has decreased. Too many lakes, sea bays, and estua­ries have become eutrop­hicated. Too many mires have been drained.

Phea­sants
In my child­hood, many phea­sants were seen in our yard. I haven’t seen them since the 90s.

Black-throated Loon
The forest on the oppo­site shore is disap­pea­ring. It looks strange. A void. I wonder if anyt­hing sensible will ever replace it. I’m thin­king about those loons again; maybe they will vanish right through that void. Through that same gap, the humus or whatever it is that colors the water will leak into the lake, and everyt­hing will hit the fan.

♫ Mia Maka­roff: Armot­toman osa (1998) // The Ruth­less Lot
Finnish folk poem

Leaving
People speak of leaving as if its consequences were tempo­rary, as if retur­ning were possible. It is not. One cannot travel into the past. Leaving changes not only the one who leaves, but also the place that is left behind.

ACT II – To the Haven

♫ Bo Holten: Emigrant­visa (1989) // Emigrant Song

♫ Anders Hill­borg: En midsom­mar­nattsdröm (2001) // A Midsummer Night’s Dream
Text by Håkan Norlén and Rune Lindström

♫ Mere­dith Monk: Panda Chant
Original text changed by Lempikuoro

♫ Goda Marija Gužaus­kaitė: Gegute Sode (2020) // The Cuckoo in the Garden
Lithua­nian folk poem

♫ Olli Korte­kangas: Medi­taatio (1999) // Meditation

♫ Caro­line Shaw: and the swallow (2017)
Psalm 84

how beloved is your dwel­ling place,
oh lord of hosts

my soul yearns, faints,
my heart and my flesh cry out
the sparrow found a house
and the swallow her nest,
where she may raise her young

they pass through the valley of bakka,
they make it a place of springs;
the autumn rains also cover it with pools.