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!
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!
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!
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!
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Mummy Peahen’s name was Queenie. King and Queenie loved each other very much.
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.
The twins, Kungfu and Mischief, tried their best but they could never beat True to the top of the tree.
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!
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.
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.
“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.”
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.
Then, all of a sudden, Kungfu turned over in his sleep and accidentally kicked True off her branch.
To be continued ….
The little duckling in the centre of this photo is distinct from the other two because s/he is smaller and paler. But, after what I witnessed the other evening, I have decided to call this duckling Michael Jackson.
I had put the gang, including ducklings, into their yard for the night, then turned the hose on the avocado tree which is right behind Ming’s shed where he now lives. As soon as I turned the hose on, Michael Jackson squeezed through the fence and began swimming in the growing puddle. The other two ducklings (the ‘Twins’ because they are identical) followed Michael Jackson to the puddle, so I had to let Godfrey out again in order to herd them back in. He gave me his usual ‘look’ – a combination of ferocity and disdain.
At that very moment, Ming began to play his guitar very loudly and the birds and I got a bit of a fright. Well, little Michael Jackson went crazy and I nearly ran to Ming’s shed to tell him to stop the noise until I realized that the duckling was actually dancing! It ran around in circles, twirled around in the puddle of water, threw itself at the twins and frolicked madly. When Ming stopped playing his guitar for a few moments, the duckling just stood still, as if waiting, then, when Ming resumed, the whole happy dance thing happened again. It’s one of the funniest things I have ever seen and I wish I had it on video.
Godfrey watched fondly, as I did, then I turned the hose off and he herded Michael Jackson and the twins back into the yard.
The only lonely one now is Baby Turkey because we lost Bubble, his main companion months ago. Baby Turkey now prefers to be in his own yard, away from the happiness of the geese and ducks. He sleeps a lot but when he gets up he still looks so sad. I have decided to try and find him a mate, a female turkey, so that he will be happy again and am hoping that the place where I got the ducklings will have one to spare. They have turkey chicks so maybe they will sell me one of the mothers.
Baby Turkey’s loneliness is a constant reminder of Anthony’s. I have not been allowed into the nursing home for a few days because I have a chest infection, so Ming and my mother have been in several times and I am relying on phone chats with Ants. He doesn’t understand that I am sick; he just seems to think I am neglecting him and I got a phone-call the other morning from one of the nurses, to say he didn’t want to get out of bed. I ended up speaking to him but he was quite incoherent. This is the first time I have known him to be like this in the morning because this usually happens in the evening.
I don’t know why the quote ‘This is how it is’ resonates so powerfully for me; after all, it is a statement of the obvious. I like it though because it beckons some sort of response, it curls around a sort of question, and it invites a sort of acceptance.
Sort of!
Godfrey and I have agreed to disagree, and I still love him.
The four ducklings are, unfortunately, now three because the biggest little one kept adventuring off by himself, including getting out of the pen when our dogs were out. (To explain, we let the dogs, Jack and Blaze, out every morning for their run, then put them back in their yard at 1pm which is when we let the geese, duck, ducklings and turkey out. In the evening, once the birds are in their pens and Queenie and chicks in the tree, we let the dogs out again.)
Two days ago we found the little duckling’s corpse on the driveway. He had obviously gotten out of the pen when the dogs were out. Or it may have been a fox or crow. It would have been very quick but that’s not much comfort. He was a nonconformist from the start and didn’t hang with the gang very well. Here he is a few days ago, always on the other side of the fence or turning in the opposite direction to the others. He was a wanderer.
One of the hardest things about free-ranging birds of any sort is that casualties are inevitable. Ever since we began to accumulate various birds, I have learned this the hard way and I guess that’s why I got four ducklings instead of two. And I didn’t name them for the same reason although, if this little one had survived, I would have called him ‘Peppy”.
Since Peppy’s demise, Godfrey (head gander) and Zaruma (head drake) and all of the other geese have been much more vigilant in protecting and surrounding the remaining three ducklings. Godfrey is particularly attentive – he is like a male mother! He has now bitten me twice when I have come too close. Zaruma, on the other hand, just follows the ducklings constantly, wagging his tail madly. I haven’t seen him so happy since we lost his mate, Tapper. The rest of the ‘gang’ are also heavily involved in the care of the ducklings and hate losing sight of them for even a second. Godfrey and Zaruma are pictured above leading the ducklings (out of the frame, but just behind them) to the yard.
Here is a picture of Woodroffe, Seli and Pearl beckoning the ducklings out from under a shed.
Once the ducklings are a bit bigger – and they are growing fast – they will no longer be able to squeeze through the fence of the yard they go to bed in. In the meantime Ming and I will have to be much more watchful when it comes to the dogs.
Nature can be beautiful but it can also be cruel.
This evening I sat outside from around 5 – 7pm as Queenie began the ritual of taking her kids to bed up in the avocado tree. First, she wandered around with them following her, digging into the ground with her big feet to give the chicks insects, showing them how to drink from a shallow bowl I’d put near the avocado tree, finding the wheat always there for all of the birds. At first I was a bit alarmed to find the little family out of the pen as early as 5pm but I guess they are now a bit beyond the pen and like to wander around the yard and back paddock freely. King (obviously the dad) stayed with them for ages, protectively.
I have maintained a respectful distance but they all come close to me anyway; they trust me and seem to rather like the flash of the camera. The photos I have put here show their long, but enjoyable, journey to bed but this is the first time I have seen the finale. I was amazed to see how the two peachicks can actually fly quite high now from branch to branch, up and up, and until they reach their mother. Queenie clucks until they get to her.
Of course the two peachicks are still extremely vulnerable; they might be taken by crows, they might drown in the pond (now that they are out of the yards), but I am hopeful that wise Queenie will prevent these possible catastrophes and King is right by her side for much of the time.
In watching this beautiful bedtime ritual, I remembered how much the birds helped me cope with the misery of Anthony’s illness, the nursing home process, Ming’s spinal operation and so many other things. Now the birds are helping me to cope with a whole new set of miseries which I blogged about yesterday, then trashed because it was all too sad. In trashing the post, I guess I also trashed the comments and I apologize for this and am grateful for those comments. Now I think the best thing is to get back to these beautiful birds for awhile.
As usual Gutsy9 became really jealous and insisted that I took her photo too.
Tonight, I would love to be one of Queenie’s peachicks, up high in the avocado tree, under her gentle wings.
But I am a bit too big!
Ming and I went to Arthur’s funeral today and I guess, in all such occasions, there is a sense of disbelief that the person is gone. It felt surreal. I tried not to let my mind do the memory play thing – making poached eggs for breakfast for the workers when I was 17 and Arthur was middle-aged, listening to talk about the football and politics, watching him play around with Ming when he was a toddler, sitting on his veranda with Anthony before Anthony had to go to the nursing home, roast duck, turkey or chicken on special occasions like Christmas, Father’s day, Arthur’s birthday, organizing him going into a nursing home when the worker’s hut nearly collapsed, visiting him with Ming and Ants, kissing him on the cheek to say goodbye two weeks ago, not knowing it would be the last goodbye.
Arthur never married or had children and he was a bit of a loner, but he loved just being here, sitting on the veranda. He was way more supportive of my bird idea than either Ants or Ming when I first started getting chooks, geese, peacocks etc. and always gave me the thumbs up (until I got the emus and then he gave me the thumbs down and shook his head!) “Oh Jules,” he would say with a grin.
He was different, unusual and a bit reclusive but one of the things that has struck me over and over ever since Arthur died is that he is the only person I have ever met, or am likely to meet, who is totally without guile.
I wanted so much to show him the new peachicks and now it is too late.
This little peachick salutes you, Arthur, as we all do.
jmgoyder 