jmgoyder

wings and things

Down the rabbit hole

Yesterday, in the early evening after all the birds were safely in their yards, I decided to take some photos of the rabbits. Oh yes, haven’t I mentioned them before? We have hundreds of rabbits – well, perhaps not quite hundreds, but lots and lots – so many, in fact, that a friend from Perth asked if I was breeding them. No, I am not breeding them; they are doing that extraordinarily well all by themselves.

In other words, we have a rabbit plague.

They are everywhere! At any time of the day or evening, I can look through any window, or go outside, and I will see not just one or two rabbits, but entire families scampering around, here there and everywhere, in amongst the peacocks and guinneas and geese and ducks and chickens and turkeys. The scene resembles something rather heavenly except it is not heavenly because those rabbits are digging up the foundations of every building on the farm – that is five sheds and this house! I keep expecting the house to suddenly tip over. After all, it’s a very old house.

So last evening I sat outside, camera ready and waited. And waited. And waited. And I didn’t see one rabbit – not even a bunny! It was as if, like Alice in Wonderland, I had fallen down a rabbit hole into a fantasy world – this one devoid of rabbits. I wish.

Anyway, I thought I better take a picture of something, so I took one of the feathers on the lawn. In a previous post I mentioned that, with all the birds molting, it looks a bit like it has been snowing. Then I took a picture of King peacock’s final feather. As I said in another previous post he’s been hanging onto that last symbol of his former glory for ages. Now, having shed that final tail feather he will have to wait several months for them to all grow back. Poor guy seems a bit lost now.

I was still waiting for a rabbit or two to appear so I took another couple of photos of feathers that had blown into a blossom tree. I say a blossom tree because I’ve forgotten what kind of tree this is and Husband isn’t here to enlighten me (I’m ashamed to say that after nearly 20 years of marriage and living here, I still don’t know what many of these trees and flowers are!)

Actually, I’m not comfortable with the little white lie I just told about the feathers in the tree. They were in the tree earlier in the day but had blown onto the ground again, so I put them back in the tree to take the photos. Is that false photography? Interesting concept!

I am not, however, white-lying about the rabbits. The weird thing is that I haven’t seen any today either, so far.

Perhaps I’ve magicked them away somehow. On the other hand, the house does feel a little tilted today!

Or maybe I’m just stuck inside a ‘Julie in Wonderland’ rabbit hole.

When I go in to see Husband today, I will ask him what the blossom tree is called. He will know.

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Weiro warrior

Buttons, the weiro, gets so furious if I don’t pay him enough attention that I am beginning to think I might need to invest in some sort of protective helmet.

Today, for instance, was a very busy day and, after letting him out of his cage this morning, I didn’t see him until this evening and he flew straight to my shoulder and started pecking angrily at my face, ears, head, neck and fingers. When he’s mad, he makes this miniature screeching noise which sounds a bit like radio static – not very pleasant.

It’s okay now. He’s calmed down and is settled into my neck, preening himself and making unscreechy noises – little chirps and whistles – and nuzzling in. In a moment he will probably do the eye kiss thing, after which I will put him to bed in his cage, which he hates to begin with, then almost immediately falls asleep (I know because I’ve had a peek).

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About birds, wings and other things

I have just altered the tagline (subtitle) to my blog fromfeeding the birds’ (I think that’s what it was!) to about birds, wings and other things’.

Apart from the fact that this little tagline rhymes, I thought it might better describe why my subject matter has transmogrified (sorry, I love that word!) into mini-articles/stories that are sometimes about things other than birds….

For example, in my cramped little office at the end of the enclosed veranda that Wantok dominated for a time, there is a wasp hovering around my head wanting very much to sting me, and, in a couple of hours, I will see the mouse I’ve been trying to trap for several days nibbling at my pile of papers.

Also, despite the comfort and beauty of our birds, Husband’s illness and Son’s adolescence have begun to preoccupy me much more than the birds. And another ‘also’: now that I’ve discovered so many fantastic blogs and bloggers, I would like to be able to ‘reblog’ (if I can figure out how!) etc. I guess I’m still on P-plates!

In other words – and I don’t particularly like cliches, but this one is apt – the sky is the limit!

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The ‘new’ emus

We have now had the new Emerys (the name I call our emus) for nearly a month, so three days ago, I let them out of their yard for the first time. They were hesitant that day and just hung around outside their yard, but on the second day, they ventured further into the paddocks they are looking longingly at in the above picture. I was hoping they would stick to the five acres around our house but, as Son pointed out rather sternly, they are wild birds at heart.

Each day it has been a challenge to round them back into their yard. They do come when I call out “Emerys” but they take their time and I have to have a lot of cabbage to tempt them. They love frolicking in water so now what I do is to turn the hose on into their yard and create a big puddle and this also lures them in but it takes a lot of patience.

Unfortunately we have had two casualties. The first was on the day of arrival (I couldn’t write about it at the time); one of the six emus, once released into the yard, could not stand up. It kept trying and falling over and this went on for a couple of hours while the emu farmer was still here. We tried everything but eventually the farmer said that once this happened there was no hope, so he had to put the emu out of its misery. This was done very quickly and humanely, but I was devastated. Then, a week ago, the same thing happened to one of the others and Son had to do the deed as the emu was extremely distressed and seemed to be in terrible pain and kept cheeping. This was the same day Wantok flew away so it was a pretty dreadful day. The picture below shows one of the emus sitting down (this one is perfectly well) but this is what the two deceased emus did when they got sick; each of them would get to a sitting position, then flop to one side or the other, legs flailing, then get to a sitting position again and so on. There doesn’t appear to be any explanation.

On a more positive note, the remaining four emus are thriving and loving their hours of freedom. They are much bigger than our first Emerys so I think they might be safe from that fox, but I can’t be sure, so I spend a lot of time following them around which I thoroughly enjoy. It’s hilarious to watch them run in their zig-zagging way. They often bump into the peacocks and geese which frightens the hell out of both parties. Strangely, the only one they don’t seem afraid of is Godfrey, the gander, who hisses and honks at them to which they reply with a surprisingly deep grunt, almost like a bark and this shuts him up!

Ha!

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An abundance of blue wrens!

I wish I could say I took this photo but, no, instead I took it from a free photo-image site on the internet. The blue wrens around here don’t stay still enough!

They are everywhere at the moment – many, many more than we’ve ever seen before, due to the presence (I assume) of our other birds, and an abundance of bird seed sprinklings here and there around the house block.

Like many other bird breeds, blue wren males are much more beautiful (human pov) than their female counterparts who, despite blue streaks, are mostly grey in colour.

Husband has always loved the blue wrens and today, when I brought him home for the afternoon, he noticed how many were here and turned to me and said, his joy skewed, “This is MY farm.”

I know that and, since taking Husband back to his too-narrow bed, the nurses, and a lukewarm meal, I haven’t seen a single blue wren.

I will recharge my camera and try again tomorrow.

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Unblinking

Some people think that birds don’t blink so I have just done some extensive research (two minutes of googling) to discover that, in fact, they do blink, but only every few minutes or so. As I now have several birding readers, I’m hoping to become more enlightened here.

 Look at Phoenix 2’s eye!

 Check out Whitey’s eye!

Several years ago, Husband began to seem very grumpy all the time and it wasn’t until he was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease that I learned that one of the many symptoms can include the inability to blink. Until I found that out, I just thought he was becoming a bad-tempered old grouch. Unblinking can give the appearance of permanent displeasure or sternness. Here is a sample conversation before I realised any of this:

Me: Why are you always so moody? (shouting)

Husband: I’m not – I’m fine (said with expressionless face)

Me: Are you mad at me or something? (teary)

Husband: Of course not. What’s wrong? Why are you so upset? (said with expressionless face)

Me: It’s just that you always look daggers at me.

Husband: I don’t mean to, Jules, honestly. I’m fine.

Me: So why don’t you show it? Why don’t you smile anymore? (shouting again).

The very day Husband and I had this conversation (luckily Son was at school), Husband happened to have a doctor’s appointment anyway, to check on his diabetes. Since I was already in an argumentative mood, the trip in to the closest town wasn’t pleasant:

Me: Why do you always want me to drive these days? Why can’t you drive yourself? (shouting again)

Husband: I just like your company (said with attempted smile).

Long story short – within a week it was discovered that Husband had Parkinson’s disease and the specialist who our doctor referred us to said that unblinking was a symptom, and so was unsmiling, because the muscles in the face could stop working.

‘My bad’ is an understatement of how I felt when we were told this, and all of the heartache that followed this diagnosis is best left unsaid.

Suffice it to say, however, that I now ‘get’ that the unblinking appearance of birds does not mean that they don’t feel:

love

loss

courage

fear

generosity

greed

peace

conflict

love

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King’s feathers

King peacock’s personality has changed due to the loss of all but one of his tail feathers. He seems to have somehow retained this one last symbol of superiority, not arrogantly, but desperately.

Son and I have collected most of his feathers (to sell on ebay and make our fortune), but there are still several here, there and everywhere. It’s like finding treasure.

So now that King can’t do his fantail thing, he has become much shyer and quite needy of attention. He hangs around the back door, waiting for me to come out with bread and lettuce and he seems a bit shocked and disappointed by his reflection in the veranda windows. I read somewhere that when peacocks shed their feathers they feel emasculated and I can see this in King’s eyes because now he doesn’t look very different from the younger peacocks, who are no longer in awe of him.

Lately, rather than strutting around Kingishly, and keeping his distance from the teenagers, King seems to need their company. His wife, Queenie, has lost interest in him and this must be very hurtful. He has even stopped making his trumpet noise, and is very quiet and subdued.

The most surprising thing is that he has abandoned the old dairy where he used to spend most of his time. If you look closely at this photo, you can see him there in the centre.

Of course, within a few months, King will have grown new tail feathers, whereas the teenage peacocks won’t get theirs for another couple of years – so he is still ahead. But I don’t think King particularly cared about his superiority and, even when he had all of his tail feathers, he never seemed arrogant about this – just happy.

When he takes the bread out of my hand now, I reassure him that he just has to wait awhile but he looks at me forlornly and I can see how much he misses doing his fantail dance.

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Happy 18th birthday!

Duckling: What’s going on?

Turkey chick: It’s the kid’s 18th birthday.

Duckling: So?

Turkey chick: Yeah, these humans are very strange. When my dad turned 18 he was magnificent. The kid doesn’t even have his feathers yet. He has to put fake ones on.

Duckling: On his head you mean?

Turkey chick: Yeah, those, and when he puts them on he can’t balance properly so his buddies have to hold him up.

Duckling: So where’s the old chap?

Turkey chick: He’s not very well so the woman and the kid had to take him to hospital.

Duckling: I miss snoozing near his socks.

Turkey chick: So do I! Actually I miss nibbling those socks too.

Duckling: So what will they do for the kid’s birthday?

Turkey chick: I heard the woman say that they’ll pick up the old chap and go to a restaurant.

Duckling: What’s a restaurant?

Turkey chick: It’s a place where humans eat roast duck and turkey.

Duckling: I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but your jokes are awful. They’re not even funny.

Turkey chick: Shut up – here he comes!

Duckling: Why does he like cuddling you and not me?

Turkey chick: He has good taste? You’re harder to pick up because of your big feet? I’m cuter? Probably a number of reasons.

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A prelude to grief

 

A musty eiderdown

A broken rose tree

An unkept house

Even the golden pheasant seems forlorn

Tomorrow morning will be the first of fourteen:

How are you, dearie?

Good man, that’s the way.

We’ll just go to the toilet now.

Didn’t you bring any soap?

Cup of tea, darlin’?

Yes, she just rang and she’s coming in soon.

You’ve just had a little fall – everything is fine now.

Your son? Yes, he’ll be here soon too.

The bathroom is just over there.

Ring this bell if you need us.

Yes, they’re coming in to see you soon ….

A dry-cleaned eiderdown

A new rose tree

A clean house

A longed-for homecoming

Improbable

Unlikely

A wrenched, beating-too-fast heart

A bird hit by a car going too fast

A flock of crows

A bitten lip

A screaming child

Sunglasses keep fogging up in the car and I can’t see properly

Broken wings now an inadequate metaphor

I can’t see

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Lean on me

                                                                           [Photo taken at Husband’s 75th last Feb.]

When I was a kid, one of my favourite songs was Lean on Me by Bill Withers. It’s still one of my favourite songs.

Today our little family will be experiencing a transition of sorts as Husband ‘tests out’ the place that isn’t a hospital and that isn’t a home – our home I mean.

During my many conversations with Husband over the last week, I have, without realising it, been leaning on him, and his wide shoulders have borne the weight of my distress unflinchingly. This leaning thing has been reciprocal, and contagious, as Son is now leaning on me and I am leaning on him.

And, since Wantok has gone, Buttons is also doing quite a bit of leaning, which is all very sweet except that she keeps pooping on my shoulder!

I think that is taking the leaning-on-me thing way too far, don’t you?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QPoTGyWT0Cg

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