jmgoyder

wings and things

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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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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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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A disco duckling, a haughty gander, and a very depressed turkey

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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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How Queenie puts her peachicks to bed

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.

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As usual Gutsy9 became really jealous and insisted that I took her photo too.
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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!

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How not to be haunted

I don’t know how not to be haunted by the car accident last October. That Ming was at fault is a no-brainer, but that five beautiful children were injured is only slightly alleviated by the relief that they are all okay now, physically.

Psychologically, I don’t know. One niece emailed me to say she was shooting basketball hoops better than ever before and she quoted ‘you have to fall before you fly’. Her younger brother’s broken leg has healed and he can play football again and his twin sister’s wise smile shows me she is okay too. My other niece, who was in a spinal brace for three months, is now back to school, has a new kitten, and is enjoying life again. Her best friend (also in the accident) has fully recovered from a complicated arm fracture.

But we, the parents, are all still haunted by the shadow of death that loomed that night; the phone-call from Ming, the mutual panic, the helicopter taking my younger brother with his son to the city, the screaming cries of my sister-in-law and my shocked mother on the front veranda as I threw myself into the car and drove madly around the district, unable to focus on where the accident had happened even though it wasn’t far from home.

I remember stopping the car finally and ringing my friend who immediately went to the scene of the accident. And I also remember – vividly – hoping that if anyone were to die, it would be Ming, not the other kids. Obviously I would never tell Ming this but it’s true and I still maintain that, but am unsure of course.

How the hell do people cope when someone is killed, or permanently injured, in this kind of stupid accident? And how, as a family, do we cope with the aftermath of what has happened to us? I don’t know.

I have made so many mistakes in my communication with some loved ones over this that I feel like giving up and just succumbing to absolute despair. When I stopped the car that night, unable to find the accident site, I wanted so much to just die myself – such a coward I guess. I was terrified!

Ming’s phone-call that night: “Mum, I’ve had an accident; everyone is alive.” His sobbing voice will haunt me forever. Okay, so I probably shouldn’t be dwelling on this but how can I not?

So I watch the new ducklings until the haunting feelings go away.
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Anthony’s 78th birthday yesterday

The photos are courtesy of my ma, Meg, and nieces, Jane and Ashtyn. It was all fairly low key because of Anthony’s inability to cope in a crowd (with Parkinson’s disease, it is very difficult to focus on more than one thing).

Ants, Ming and I spoiled each other with birthday gifts yesterday; mine was a ridiculous amount of cheese; Ming’s was a Scottish kilt; and Anthony’s was a shirt that he was not enthralled with. And the sprinkling of friends and relatives was perfect. Jane, as usual, gave us all presents, Ashtyn took a million photos and my ma did the tea and coffee stuff. Geoff, a wonderful guy who used to work here, brought a cake which was great because Julie (not me, my sil) was complaining about the lack of one haha!

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Ming took Ants back to the nursing home at around 4.30pm because he was exhausted. I would have invited more people but it would have been too hard. I did invite a few more but they couldn’t come which was actually a relief because I couldn’t remember who I had invited! Plus Ming and I wanted to take Ants over the road to have a drink with his brother but, by 4pmish, we could see this would be impossible. It took three of us to even get Ants into the car to go back to the nursing home, but I didn’t cry for a change.

Small parties are the best! Happy birthday, Ants.

PS. Would anyone like some cheese?

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Say ‘cheese’!

Today is Anthony’s 78th birthday – February 4/1936. Ming and I didn’t do much for our January birthdays in terms of gifts because we decided to ‘save’ our birthdays for Anthony’s, if that makes sense. Ming is about to go and pick Anthony up from the nursing home to come to the farm for the afternoon. As Ants can’t deal with crowds anymore, I have just asked a sprinkling of people over; after all, it is a workday, not a weekend.

Ming suggested we get each other two presents each so he and I exchanged ours this morning. I will show you more of the ‘goods’ later when I have photos, but just want to show you what Ming got me!

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Well, technically, the blue cheese is for Ants but we all know that I will eat most of it!

Ahhhh – cheese bliss!

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Ducklings on day 2 – and Gutsy falls in love

One of the four ducklings is bigger than the others and tends to be a bit remote (well it keeps getting onto the other side of whatever fence is in front of it). I’m assuming it is a male and that the others are females. I hope so because this is not just about heart-twinkling – I want some eggs!

What Mr bigduckling doesn’t seem to realize is that he is inside the yard and the (let’s assume they are) ‘girls’ are outside and free. He is actually in the yard where Queenie looks after her peachicks and he keeps stealing their food.

I have had a few scares already; at dusk last night I couldn’t find the ducklings and assumed the worst (crows, foxes drowning), but then this morning Ming (who didn’t even know I’d got the ducklings) said, sternly, “So I see you got four.” Delighted, I ignored his disapproving frown and raced out to see them. Later in the day Ming himself panicked a bit when he found them unable to get out of the pond. The pond is a long way from the yards for little ducklings so I am amazed they even got there. I have now filled it to the brim and put some branches in so they have ways to get out. Ming had picked them all out of the pond but said he won’t be doing it again – “The birds are your responsibility, Mum,” he said, with a breathtaking smile.

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As I was heading back to the house, I was shocked to see Gutsy9 actually flirting with one of the peacocks. G9 is only 13 months old. I told her off after I took the photos, but she doesn’t take much notice of my advice these days.

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I told G9 to pull her head in so she did. Then she bit my finger.

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