Diamond: Hey, Woody, I think I found a wing. Can we Sebastopols fly?
Woodroffe: No, we can’t fly and what the hell are you doing now, Di? Oh, I can’t look – you are so embarrassing.
Diamond: I think I found my genitals and I might not be a girl after all.
Woodroffe: How thrilling. So what would you like me to call you now – Dick?
Dick: Why do you always have to be so sarcastic, Woody?
The taming of all these birds has made me terribly nostalgic for my childhood in Canada. One of my fondest memories is of the squirrels. The following is my mother’s story. She tells it well, don’t you think?
“Not long after arriving for our big adventure in Canada, when the children were 5, 7 and 9 respectively, Dad told us one evening that we were to wake up really early the next day because he had a surprise for us. He wouldn’t even tell me what it was.
So at dawn the next day, with that secretive Charlie Chaplin walk and wink of his, he bundled us into the car, patting his bulging pockets and driving us off into the unknown.
It was a beautiful municipal park in Toronto, entirely deserted at this early mystic hour.
His finger to his lips he crept ahead of us to the base of the biggest, widest tree, and from his pockets he drew out the bags of peanuts he’d been hiding. Handing them out he showed the children how to tempt the squirrels down from the treetops, to cheekily grab the nuts right out of their hands before scampering triumphantly back to the treetops with their trophies.
We had never experienced anything like this in Australia. Taming native creatures right in their habitat, to eat from their hands gave the kids the most tremendous thrill, and a memory to last forever. I can still taste the dew, and hear the silence of that magic moment.
Later on, when we were invited to stay at the cabin of friends on one of the myriad of lakes north of Toronto, Julie actually tamed chipmunks to eat out of her hands, a feat seldom attained with those tiny timid creatures, but that’s another story. M.L.”
Thanks, Meggles!
I’m a little perturbed, on the white peacocks’ behalf, that the post about them [16th Nov.] seemed to go unnoticed.
They are not used to this lack of ‘ooh/aaah’ attention.
I don’t understand their attention-seeking behaviour, but I do have a grudging respect for their vanity.
Hence this second post in one day – silly really, but I think they were a little hurt by the lack of commentary.
I have asked Son to unsubscribe from my blog for three reasons:
1. He gets a bit freaked out reading about himself, especially if my anecdotes aren’t 110% literal;
2. He is irritated by the daily emails alerting him to my posts (lots of people probably are!); and
3. I don’t want him to know about the six emu chicks I’ve ordered.
I’m not sure if he’s unsubscribed yet and if I mention it again he might get suspicious, so I am just hoping that he will delete the email connecting him to this post.
The six new Emerys arrive in two weeks!
jmgoyder 