jmgoyder

wings and things

Jan 2

Shut up and listen!

by jmgoyder

Don’t worry; I’m not telling anyone else to shut up – I’m just telling myself.

I have too many unspeakable words to utter and these words are like an omelette-gone-wrong inside my head. Ie. Cherry ripe doesn’t go well with parsley and Husband asked me not to bring him any more Cherry ripes (well, he could have told me he didn’t like Cherry ripes a bit earlier in our relationship!)

Okay, so I have listened and I have heard.

Yesterday, just before releasing Wantok, Son said to me, his words like mini-arrows, “You care more about the birds than you care about me.”

Okay, so I have listened and I have heard.

The following Youtube is absolutely beautiful, and it contains some wonderful clips of birds.

Okay, so I have listened and I have heard.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x91rBzNKvlc

I need to care for my fledgling.

Uncategorized Wings

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Dec 29

A brand new thing

by jmgoyder

There is nothing like a brand new thing. It beats the hell out of second-hand.

Godfrey came to us as a 2-year-old (in the poultry world, this is second-hand and, yes, I’m beginning to realise why Godfrey was second-handed to us!)

Our other birds came to us as babies – brand new – like freshly minted sovereigns.

Now that Husband is in a brand new hospital, under the care of a brand new specialist, and being cared for by brand new nurses (new to us I mean) things are looking up. And I’ve suddenly realised that, instead of dreading what might be coming, I/we should be embracing it as a brand new experience.

But still we wait – all of us – for what this brand new experience might entail.

Uncategorized Wings

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Dec 24

Son’s last Christmas as a child

by jmgoyder

Yes, even though Son is nearly 18, we are still doing the pillowcase thing (I think some call this the ‘Santa sack’). Our tradition, since he was born – derived from my parents’ tradition – is for him to leave an empty pillowcase at the end of his bed on Christmas Eve which then gets magically filled with presents before the morning.

I have never loved doing something as much as I love doing this! I always get so excited that I am the first one to wake up on Christmas morning – sometimes as early as 4am – then I have to go back to bed and wait for Son to wake up.

I guess this will be the last Christmas I go to such efforts – ha!

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Dec 22

Is it a bird…? No, it’s my own personal super-hero

by jmgoyder

Finally, tomorrow, Husband is getting out of hospital and Son and I are elated (even though we still haven’t put the Christmas tree up – argh!)

The following pictures are a random sample that represent, for me, the idea of home which is, quite simply, us.

I cannot wait to have my hero home!

 

Uncategorized Wings

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Dec 21

‘Alone again, naturally’

by jmgoyder

The title of this post derives from the Gilbert O’Sullivan song of the 1960s and reminds me that, no matter how many people surround us, we are, fundamentally, alone. For some this is terrifying; for others (like me!) it is refreshing; for all of us, it is a reality. We are alone in the birth canal and in the death canal and that is a fact.

I have noticed, over the last several months, that if a bird has been injured, all of the other birds will leave it alone. There seems to be this instinctive compulsion in birds, and perhaps in many other animals, to get as far away as possible from the suffering or dying of their breed. Actually, it’s possibly more of a revulsion or a fear thing – I’m not sure.

We humans, on the other hand, sometimes feel as if we are supposed to gather around the injured or stricken of our breed, to empathize and commiserate, when what we really want to do is fly away. But we are good at pretending. Birds, on the other hand, don’t pretend, and I admire this unwitting honesty, this commonsense ….

…. this conundrum!

This chook is gone now and I will miss her so much.

Uncategorized Wings

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Dec 15

Wait a second – don’t delete me (yet!)

by jmgoyder

This is my 70th post and it has nothing to do with birds, not really. It has more to do with belly laughing at myself, which is what I’ve been doing for several minutes. Why?

Well, I was on the phone with a good friend (just before the belly laughing attack) and it was when she said, “Thank you for all the emails,” that I realised she thought that I was doing the email bombardment thing.

So I am using this opportunity to explain to those friends and family who were kind enough to subscribe to my blog, that it is NOT ME sending you these emails; the blog system that I belong to (WordPress) sends them to you every time I write a ‘post’ (for me this entails a mini-article with a picture or two). This means that if I am in a particularly wordy mood, you poor subscribers might get two, sometimes three, emails per day.

Again, IT’S NOT ME. Okay, I am doing the writing, but the emails just happen automatically unless you unsubscribe. Unfortunately, if you are unitiated in the world of blogging (and, remember, I am only newly initiated) you might not know how to unsubscribe in which case my blog posts will continued to crowd your email’s inbox.

I hope this explanation is not going to mean I lose half my audience!

Oh, and because this is a blog that is primarily about birds (okay, so it’s evolved into something a bit more maybe) the picture above is of our two Aracauna hens who are supposed to be laying blue eggs.

We haven’t seen a blue egg yet!

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Dec 10

Perspective and falling into the pond

by jmgoyder

This is ridiculous and I’ve done it twice now.

The first time was the evening after we got the pond for the ducks and geese; I went out to make sure the gates to their yards were locked and completely forgot that the new pond was on my usual route (which I have now altered). Yes, I fell in and I mean totally, up to my neck in slime and shock. I tried to creep back into the house unnoticed but Son saw me and said, “Why are you so wet?” When I told him he couldn’t stop laughing (well, that’s better than being reprimanded!)

The second time was just a few moments ago. I went to check our new emus and to leave a torch on inside their yard (fox deterrent hopefully). On my way out, torchless now, I completely forgot that I had filled one of those shell pools for them and left it at the door to the yard. Yes, slip, slide and in I go again! And this time I banged my nose up a bit; there was even a bit of blood.  I’ve just crept into the house in the hope Son won’t notice and he hasn’t – phew, so I am now in dry clothes yet again.

Husband is falling over a lot now; today he fell outside, yesterday he fell inside and the day before outside again. He falls because his legs don’t work properly any more but he keeps trying to do the jobs he always did – watering the garden, cleaning the car, emptying the rubbish, sorting out the hose fittings, fixing things etc.

I went up to the local shop the other day and was only gone around 15 minutes. As soon as I reached the driveway  I saw him from a distance – lying prone. The shock! I drove right up to him and leapt out of the car, sobbing, “Are you okay? What happened?” His face was covered in flies because his arms were trapped underneath his body.

Eventually I got him up – me crying and him laughing at me crying! But once we got back into the house I became really stern, told him off; he was already embarrassed but I made it worse and I don’t like that I did that.

So, the beautiful irony of me falling into ponds has given Husband an enormous laugh (a little smile would have been more tolerable, not this huge guffaw!) “Touche, he said  with one of his smiles.

Perspective!

Uncategorized Wings

18 Comments »
Dec 2

Smell the roses, peck the dust, fly through the window

by jmgoyder

This is an interlude-ish post because, as a newcomer to blogging, I feel a little stupid, a little ‘unwise’, a little frantic.

Sometimes the wild birds around here – wrens, pigeons, doves, crows, kookaburras, willywagtails, butcher birds – crash into our windows, fall to the ground, then pick themselves up and fly into the closest tree.

I have never forgotten how a kookaburra flew through a window into the kitchen, then out the back door. The window, by the way, was closed, and the impact shattered it.  I remember screaming with shock and fright and the poor kookaburra must have been terrified until it made its escape.

Too-muchness is what happens when you are over-engulfed with feelings, thoughts and words that might be better kept to yourself. The realm of the blog, however, allows you to indulge yourself because, to some extent, you have a captive audience.

WordPress is amazing, but it is also a bit incestuous; i.e, you like my blog, I like yours and vice versa. I have only clicked ‘like’ when I have liked and I have only commented when I wanted to. The statistical information has been gratifying but also confusing and probably misleading; certainly it is distracting!

This is my third post for today which, apparently, is not the done thing, but I cannot seem to stop writing, having written nothing substantial for many years. I have taken the advice of more experienced bloggers and decided to just post one story per day from now on – well, maybe two!

 

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Nov 24

Filofaxes versus ‘fictofacts’

by jmgoyder

Okay, I just received my first really negative comment and guess who it was from? Son. He was furious about the ‘love/hate’ post (see comments) because he didn’t think it was exactly accurate and he didn’t like being portrayed that way. I pointed out to him that I had to disguise some of the people in the incident described in order to protect their anonymity.

“But what about my anonymity?” he yelled, “and what if your readers now think all your stories are made up?” Then, stomping off, “I’m not the wimp in that story!”

“Look, this is the first story I’ve slightly altered, okay? I won’t do it again without admitting to the readers.”

“And leave me out of the blog from now on, Mum,” he said more gently.

“Okay,” I said as one of the cocks crowed.

Note: As mentioned before, I taught English and Creative Writing for years and that whole truth/fiction conundrum used to spark a lot of debate. One thing I’ve decided is that if you are going to fabricate a story a little, it is much more honest and sincere to admit that, than simply to pretend it’s 100% accurate.

Well, what do you think?

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