jmgoyder

wings and things

Duckling update

Well the three ducklings have grown so quickly that they are almost too big to squeeze through the fence of the yard I put the gang in at night. They free range with their ‘minders’ all day.

Here’s a picture of Seli and Godfrey guarding the Twins.

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And here’s one of Ola watching over a sleeping Michael Jackson (the dancing duckling).

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I took a whole lot of better photos of all of them but had to delete these because Ming’s smashed ute (truck) was in the background. The gang + ducklings tend to hang out underneath it because it is near the pond. We have covered the smashed-in front of the ute with a blanket so that visitors, especially family, won’t be upset if they see it. The rest of the ute looks normal, with the tray intact. I wish we could get rid of it but we are stuck with it in the back yard for now until we try again to claim some insurance. Every morning and every evening, when I let the gang out, or put them into the yard, I have to walk past the ute.

There is also a clear view of the ute from the kitchen window, a constant reminder of the accident and everything since. And when I frolic in the dirt, and offer prayers to the sky, and watch the pea-chicks climb the avocado tree, or cry until my body is cramped like a dead leaf, I am always right next to the ute.

Ming brought Ants home for the afternoon yesterday and I (rather dramatically) threw myself into his chest and soaked him with some of these endless, futile, enormous tears. He held me and said nice things to me and then asked me about the ducklings.

“When are we eating them?” he asked.

I stopped crying immediately. “What the hell are you talking about? We are not eating them, Ants!”

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Dust bath

My previous post published itself before the brilliance of its second paragraph – oh well!

Of course the second paragraph wasn’t brilliant at all – it was just something about how I enjoyed sitting, even scrambling a bit, in the dirt near the chook yards the other night. I was wearing my best white trousers because I had just come back from town, so I hesitated, not wanting to get them dirty.

Then, a swirly sort of thing happened and, without any hesitation, I plonked myself onto the ground and, yes, copied the dust bath antics of some of the birds. Well, I tried! I need a bit of practice I guess, but it was a hell of a lot of fun learning.

I am very glad Ming was out because he might have gotten the impression that I had gone mad. Not at all! Now that I am no longer worried about my clothes getting dirty, I am going to join the birds in more dust baths; it’s quite refreshing to get right down on the ground like they do.

What I like best about this dust bath thing is the way (if you are a human) you just have to let go of your uprightness, your inhibitions, your idea of ‘clean’, and every shred of your self-consciousness.

And once you are thoroughly dusted, you can lie on your back on the grass and look up at the sky and hope that one day Godfrey will love you back again. But, just in case he doesn’t, you say a prayer.

Dear God, I offer you my sleeping, so that you can rescue me from my nightmares and find me a small comfortable cave where I can rest.

Dear God, I offer you my eating, so that you can help me to swallow the fairy floss that tastes like lemon peel, so that you can help me to swallow the boringness of grated carrot, so that you can help me to climb the avocado tree for that one last piece of fruit.

Dear God, I offer you my walking around, so that you can help me to stop circling myself, and build a new path with lots of daffodils and maybe a few trees for the birds.

Dear God, I offer you my heart, so that you can help me get it off the treadmill and beat normally again. I offer you all of the ugly horribleness of me, so that you can help me to be beautiful again and, if isn’t too much trouble, I would like my freckles back please.

Dear God, how did you do all of that so fast?

I’m a little dusty!

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The loveliness of dirt

The other evening, I was watching the ducklings and peachicks go to bed in their different ways and, because I keep forgetting to take a chair or stool to sit on next to the yards, I just sat down on the ground.

The clothes I had on were my ‘city’ clothes – I looked in my files for photos that would go with this post but couldn’t find any that were dirty enough!

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Wrong number

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I have been trying to find someone to shear the alpacas, Okami and Uluru, because I didn’t get around to organizing this in January. They are not overly woolly and seem to be pretty happy because there is lots of water and shade, but it is very hot and March might be even hotter.

So I got a mobile phone number from someone who knew someone who might know a shearer and yesterday I rang it (assuming I was ringing someone who lived nearby). This was how the phone conversation unfolded:

Shearer: Yeah?
Me: Oh hello, I was just wondering if you shear alpacas.
Shearer (not a shearer): Not me, mate, naah, but me neighbor might.
Me: Would it be okay if you asked him for me? I don’t live very far away.
Shearer (not a shearer): No worries, love. Bloody hot isn’t it!
Me: Yes, that’s what I’m worried about, you know for the alpacas.
Shearer (who I will now call Man): Bitches?
Me: Well, no, it’s two males actually.
Man: Yeah I’ll sort it for you, mate – where do ya live?
Me: Paradise Road – not far from Dardanup.
Man: Where the fxxxx is that?
Me: I thought you lived in Dardanup!
Man: I’m in Queensland, darling!
Me: Oh, I’m so sorry – I think I must have rung the wrong number.
Man: No problems, love, better than the telly!
Me: Well, thanks so much and sorry for bothering you like this.
Man: Best fun I’ve had for ages, mate!
Me (laughing): Good to meet you, whoever you are and thanks!

This would have to be the best ‘wrong number’ situation I have ever experienced!

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Ten degrees of joy

Ming and I saw his surgeon on Friday and the X-ray shows that Ming’s spine is now almost back to the way it was after his first surgery. I won’t bother putting the stats here – just to say that he is now ten degrees straighter than he was after he fractured two titanium rods. But the best thing is the residual pain/ache (since fractures) has gone.

The surgeon said that Ming, despite feeling better now, needs to take another six months for the inside healing to happen. He said that the bone stuff they used was very expensive and had enzymes that needed to do their work. I am glad he told us this because Ming and I were beginning to leap around with joy a bit too much (well I was!)

One of the hardest things for Ming is that he can never, ever, lift anything too heavy, or twist and turn like most of us (yesterday, when I turned around to look at something, he said, ‘I wish I could do that.’) I pretended to play a violin of sorrow until we both cracked up laughing.

Bravo Ming!

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Interlude

I realize I am overblogging today but you will be relieved to know that there will now be a few days of silence because Ming and I have to go up to Perth at the crack of dawn tomorrow for his first post-op. appointment.

Sorry to blogfriends to not be reading your posts lately – can’t seem to keep up, a common predicament for bloggers! For friends and family who read this blog, if you don’t want me to crowd your email inbox simply unsubscribe/unfollow the blog please. If you do so, I won’t even know and it would be a great relief to me if nonblogger friends and family just got me out of their email faces haha!

Catch up on Monday. In the meantime, have a good weekend!

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Motherhood 2 (a funny story)

The three people I see most of are Anthony, my mother and Ming of course. For some reason I sometimes get their names confused, as if they are identical triplets or something. So I will often call Ming ‘Ants’ and vice versa, but I have also called Ants ‘Mother’ a few times and called my mother ‘Ming’. Do other people do this?

Anyway, last night, just before Ming went off to his shed to go to bed, he gave me a big hug and I said, “You are such a beautiful son,” and he said, “That’s because I’m your mum.”

Obviously he’d meant to say, “That’s because you’re my mum,” but he got the words the wrong way around just like I get the names the wrong way around.

After we stopped laughing hysterically, he left for his shed and, hearing his footsteps outside my office door, I shouted, “G’night Mummy!” and he shouted back, “G’night, darling!”

Still laughing about it!

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Motherhood

It has been fascinating to watch Queenie and the peachicks out and about. They roam freely now everywhere and are quite used to my presence. Sometimes they forage on the lawn just outside my office door where I can watch them and talk to them through the fly screen. It’s almost as if they have come over to say hello.

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I still haven’t found a mate for Baby Turkey, but I promised him I would by next week and he perked up a little bit.

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Godfrey and Zaruma, despite being male, continue to guard the ducklings. They are out and about for much of the day now too, always with the two male mothers guarding them – Godfrey with hisses and Zaruma with a little smile on his funny face.

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This morning my mother came over and we cried together and it was like a gift of rain on a rose bush thought dead, but now budding again; it was like a single dewdrop until you see there are hundreds of them; it was like a hidden stream, full of pebbles and tadpoles and lilies and, well (I can’t help myself here!) ducklings.

Motherhood is a powerful thing.

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Black dog (creative writing exercise)

It is nearly the middle of the night here, down in the southwest of Western Australia. There is a gentle breeze outside, which just turned boisterous (as if insulted by being called gentle), and a strange crackling of distant thunder. The humidity is the kind that makes you feel like your whole face has melted off but, when you check the mirror, your face is still there.

It doesn’t exactly look like your face though; it looks like a sad person’s face. Strange.

What you have to do is to schedule the tears so that they don’t disturb other people. The best place for this is in the bathroom late at night, or else outside under the moon, or else in the car when you are going to the shop to get milk.

In the shop you have to smile and be jovial and sociable – quite easy when you are a seasoned actor. Your eyes are moist because of your hayfever. You can even carry the act home with you and smile at yourself in the bathroom mirror, and put your hand up to join your reflected hand just to say hello.

When you finally go to bed with your book, and your new reading glasses, with the fan breezing your skin, and the light on, you know a little bit of happy. But you also know that, at exactly midnight, you will have to move over in your bed to make room for the black dog.

It is nearly the middle of the night here, down in the southwest of Western Australia.

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The Peacock Family Adventures 1

This is my first attempt at a children’s picture book story – very much a first draft, but lots of fun. It’s dedicated to M, J, T, M and K.

The Peacock family lived on a little farm called Paradise.

Daddy Peacock’s name was King because he had the most powerful beak in the world.

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Mummy Peahen’s name was Queenie. King and Queenie loved each other very much.

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King and Queenie eventually had three peachicks: a little girl called True, and the twins, Kungfu and Mischief. When they were little, Queenie would organize tree-climbing competitions. She would fly to the top of the huge avocado tree and say, ‘ready, set, go!’ True always won because she was the biggest.

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The twins, Kungfu and Mischief, tried their best but they could never beat True to the top of the tree.

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Sometimes they all fell down to the ground but they never hurt themselves because Queenie showed them how to use their wings like parachutes. True already knew she had wings so, when Queenie was having her afternoon nap, True showed her little sister and brother how to fly.

When Kungfu learned to fly, he was so happy he flew straight into his dad’s feathers – BANG. But King didn’t mind at all because he had plenty of feathers and he loved to show them off.

Mischief was very good at tricks. She would sometimes pretend to fall out of the tree so that King would have to catch her. But King wasn’t fooled. He would play hide-and-seek with Mischief until she gave up and called ‘Daddy”. Then he would say BOO!

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Kungfu was the first peachick to grow feathers and every day he practised doing what his dad did. It was very hard to begin with but one day, he did it!

But True, being such a truthful peahen, would say, “Kungfu, you look ridiculous!” Then they would have an argument and Mischief would laugh and laugh and laugh, but very quietly.

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Mischief, being such a mischievous peahen, knew exactly how to laugh without looking like she was laughing. After all, she didn’t want to hurt Kungfu‘s feelings.

But Kungfu always knew when Mischief was laughing at him so he would wait until she was looking at her reflection in the pond and WHAMMO he would bite her big toes – both of them.

King and Queenie decided that they needed to talk to their children about their behaviour.

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“Do you think Mischief is a bit too mischievous, Darling?” asked Queenie.

“No, Sweetie-pie. She’s just growing up. I’m more worried that she will fall into her reflection in the pond,” said King.

“Yes, I’ll talk to her about that. What about True – do you think she is a bit too truthful, Darling?” asked Queenie.

“Yes and no. She really needs to stop pushing Kungfu‘s buttons,” said King, wisely.

“How can we stop Kungfu from biting Mischief‘s toes?” asked Queenie.

King thought for a moment.

“I have a good idea, Sweetie-pie. Let’s see if True can ask the sky. She is really good at that.”

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That night, as the Peacock Family settled down for the night, high up in the avocado tree, True waited until everyone was asleep, then she asked the sky.

And the big, red, pink, orange, yellow, beautiful sky answered her.

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Then, all of a sudden, Kungfu turned over in his sleep and accidentally kicked True off her branch.

To be continued ….

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