jmgoyder

wings and things

Cabbage wisdom

I am very tempted to rename Son ‘Commander’ in this blog (because he is so bloody bossy!) but will refrain from doing so at the moment – well at least until he and I settle our power ratio arrangement. As you can see, for me this presents a bit of a challenge as he has a habit of standing in the sky!

There is another character here who is somewhat commander-ish: the tallest emu. His resemblance to Son is uncanny in so many ways. I admire them both for their courage and skill in not quite conforming. You see, not quite conforming is a clever way of not conforming at all, but still belonging.

This tallest of our emus, for example, doesn’t like cabbage (and, according to all of my research, there is no such thing as an emu who doesn’t like cabbage). I finally tried lettuce with him and he looked at me, condescendingly, as if to say, ‘about time you figured it out.’

Come to think of it, Son doesn’t like cabbage either, but I think that might be quite normal for non-emus!

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Eventually… magic!

Eventually, our two white peacocks will do this! At the moment, they are only teenagers so it might be another year or so before their tail feathers grow long enough for them to do this fantail thing. I can’t wait!

Magic!

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Romance

I am still watching those two loved-up peafowl. The white peahen has become rather a show off lately, so I’m worried that the peacock’s interest in her may have gone to her head because she keeps standing on the food box and pirouetting in front of all of the peacocks when really (and I’ve told her this!) she should be loyal to her first suitor.

For the sake of convenience, and clarity, I have decided to name them Brad and Angelina.

In the photo below you will see that Angelina is a little confused; she is in the middle, between two male white peacocks who both adore her but are beginning to tire of her antics.

And here we have Brad, being advised by one of Angie’s brothers to persevere because, ultimately, it will all be worth it.

Ahhhhh – romance … what would we do without its uncertainty, excitement, agony and joy? Mmmm – probably we’d all be calmer and wiser and very boring!

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Son feeds the birds!

Son and I got home this afternoon from a 5-hour round trip to Perth and back and, despite his disapproval of my ‘bird thing’, Son fed the gang and didn’t mind at all!

‘We should have more moments like this, Mum,’ he said.

Long story short: I know the photos don’t reveal it, but Son has a 75% scoliosis with surgery scheduled for 14 February.

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Birdplay

I love watching the birds at play. Even though they spend most of their time pecking around for food – grass, grubs and so on, each breed has its own version of fun:

The guinnea fowl love to dig themselves into any grassless patches and roll around in the dirt. They have also formed a choir and their performances are frequent (about once every hour or so). Their music is a bit of an acquired taste which visitors often refer to as ‘noise’ but we are used to its strange echoes.

The peacocks, of course, love to dance the ‘fantail’. Now, even though it’s only the males who do this, the females find it enormously entertaining (occasionally!) They also play a game called ‘scare-the-hell-out-of-Julie’ which consists of blood-curdling screams which never fail to stop me in my tracks, as they are so piercing.

The chooks love to play hide and seek in amongst the bits and pieces of farm debris. The hens are particularly good at hiding which is probably because they don’t like the roosters’ idea of play which I think is better left undescribed here.

The turkeys love a game called ‘peck-the-duck-until-it-wakes-up’. Even though the following picture is of one of the Bubbles (turkey) and Tapper (duck) when they were young, they still play this game with varying degrees of success.

The golden pheasants used to play a war game that turned out to be not a game at all but a war, with the loser banished to an adjacent property and the winner remaining here, victorious and splendid. And lonely. War games are no longer encouraged here.

The Indian runner ducks love to run around, pretending to be fast and, yes, before they met the emus, they thought they were fast. Unfortunately for the Indian runners, most of the timed races have been won by the Emerys, but the ducks are very dignified losers. The Emerys do concede, however, that they have the distinct advantage of loooooooooooooonger legs!

The best game of all here is waterplay and, since the following photo was taken, we have added a pond so that it isn’t just Godfrey who gets to play.

Oh, I nearly forgot – Buttons, the weiro, likes to boogie on my shoulder. He seems to be able to turn his head all the way around, then does this nodding thing really fast, then he shakes himself, then the whole dance move repeats itself. Since he is on my shoulder more than he is off my shoulder lately, this means that I am constantly covered in a sprinkling of tiny feathers that look like dandruff, as well as, you know, weiro waste (the excitement of the boogie seems to affect his little bowel – oh well!)

The following youtube of a crow snowboarding is accompanied by a rather serious little article about whether birds like to play in the same way humans do. I don’t think it matters.

http://blogs.scientificamerican.com/thoughtful-animal/2012/01/16/snowboarding-crows-the-plot-thickens/

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Alpacas and apostrophes

There are two reasons for the following punctuation missive. The first is because teaching grammar and punctuation at the local university was my speciality, and the second is because, a few posts ago, I replied to a comment with the sentence “It’s the alpaca’s drinking trough” when I was talking about two Alpacas, not one.

I am very embarrassed now about this appalling punctuation error!

The apostrophe is that punctuation mark (like a comma that has had too much coffee, so keeps raising its eyebrow) that indicates either ownership or plurals. For example:

  • Ownership: “The Alpaca’s face was beautiful” (we are talking about one Alpaca here).
  • Plurals: “This is the Alpacas’ drinking trough” OR “This is the Alpacas’s drinking trough” (we are talking about two Alpacas here).

I hope you found this post exhilarating! Here are a few apostrophes to make your day ”””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””

Okami and Uluru (pictured above) just don’t seem to really care – mmmm!~

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Waste not, want not

The other day, when I was taking the emus for a walk around and around and around the garden (a previous post describes this marathon!) one of them spied a bottle cap in the grass and promptly gulped it down before I could stop him.

Let me explain: usually our lawn is not strewn with bottle caps, however, having cleaned up after Son’s 18th birthday party, I had missed several of these, some of which had been thrown into bushes or potplants.

Anyway, I was alarmed as, one by one, all of the emus found and swallowed a bottle cap each as if they were on a treasure hunt. They kept hunting for more as if bottle caps were some sort of rare delicacy. I wrestled a couple of these sharp metal caps out of sharp beaks and then got down on my hands and knees and quickly picked up the remainder. When I did this, the Emerys all stood back and watched me as if they thought I was trying to be one of them. The cheekiest one kept trying to grab the caps out of my hand!

There is a lesson here: birds like shiny objects and are attracted to aluminium, plastic, glass, jewelry and anything reflective, so you have to be very careful. Since the bottle cap incident I have been terribly worried that one or all of the Emerys might get sick, but so far so good. I have been giving them plenty of cabbage to make sure! Hopefully the cabbage will provide the roughage required to eradicate the bottle caps (I will not go into detail here about my search for digested bottle caps!)

This has made me realize, too, how the littering around the countryside is probably killing some of the wild birds. We live on a very short road and yet, last week, Son and I collected a garbage bagful of cans, bottles and plastic bags (some empty, some full) that had been dumped here and there on the sides of this road. This probably happens in every country’s countryside – awful.

Other recent realizations:

  • Weiros like cardboard. Buttons has now chewed through nearly a whole pizza box. Yeah, he wasn’t interested in the leftover pizza at all, only the boxes. He is getting fat! Don’t worry, we have now taken the rest of the pizza boxes to the local dump.

  • Red-tailed black cockatoos like anything and everything chewable. Wantok particularly enjoyed power cords, furniture, Abs exercise machines and, before we set her free, human fingers and especially thumbs! I imagine that, by now, she will have eaten a good part of the forest in the hills! Any cockatoo who can eat a wooden chair in one sitting, can eat a tree or two easily! I don’t miss the furniture, which was old anyway, but I do miss Wantok!

I miss a lot of things….

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Now … and then

Now that King peacock has shed all of his tail feathers he has become much less confident and, instead of being somewhat aloof, he follows me around constantly in a needy sort of way, and hangs around the back door. King doesn’t realise, of course, that those tail feather will grow back in a few months. This is what he looks like now:

Husband and I had to endure an appointment with a new Parkinson’s specialist today which took nearly four hours (because it included multiple assessments via a physiotherapist, occupational therapist, speech therapist and nurse). By the time it was nearly over and we had finally seen the specialist, Husband was exhausted, so when he was asked one of the ‘trick’ questions to test his memory, i.e. “What country do you live in?” Husband said, cupping his chin in the palm of his hand, “I don’t think I know that.” The specialist then made a note.

A bit later, in the car, I asked Husband nervously, “What country do you live in?” and he said, “Australia, of course; is there something wrong with you?”

This is what King peacock looked like way back then….

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Flirting

Oh, this is too beautiful.

I have been watching these two peafowl for some time – the blue peacock and the white peahen – because, over the last couple of months, they seem to have formed a tentative romantic relationship. As they are adolescents, it is still at the shy stage of things, and I’ve noticed that they only get close if none of the others are around.

So yesterday, in the early evening, I was surprised to see them together but, as I watched, they were both very careful not to be too forward with each other. They would stand next to each other but refrain from making eye contact and mostly look around as if neither were aware of the other’s presence.

Instead, the peacock looked up into the wattle tree, as if there were something to be alarmed about, and the peahen did the same. That’s when I realised they were flirting with each other because, as we all now know, there was nothing in that tree – not even a Willy Wagtail!

I continued to watch, fascinated, as the peacock kept cocking his head here there and everywhere, pretending (I think!) and the peahen did the same.

They didn’t make eye contact with each other but they did, eventually, begin to look in the same direction as if they had both found a common interest. I began to feel as if my presence, and my camera, were unwanted and that they needed some privacy.

So I left them alone to be too beautiful together.

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And the winner is….

Well, the ‘Where’s Willy’ competition was a great success with 89 subscribers rising to the challenge of attempting to find and count the Willy Wagtails in the wattle tree pictured in my last post. It was a difficult game and, one by one, 86 people had to give up but they should be commended for trying.

Out of the three final entries, it was Magsx2 who submitted the correct answer and I quote:  “I cannot see any wagtails. :lol:

Her prize is a recommendation that you follow/subscribe to her blog and here is the link:

http://magsx2.wordpress.com/

For the other two courageous entrants, your prize is a virtual hug.

And for the 86 who tried, I’d like you to know that I know that you didn’t really try did you – you simply deleted the post; you are all to be commended for your extraordinary wisdom.

Now, the story behind the picture is this: There were several Willy Wagtails frolicking around in the branches of the wattle tree both before and after the photo was taken. This is typical of their devious behaviour and, to top it off, I was dive-bombed by two of them as I abandoned trying to get a photo of them, so there must be nests in that wattle tree but I can’t spot any – can you? No, let’s not go there!

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