jmgoyder

wings and things

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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A beautiful black cloud

I found a Youtube that shows exactly what happened when we let Wantok go. Here it is:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xJZnQ2QFgq4&feature=topics

Then I found another one of an Australian couple releasing a red-tailed black cockatoo into the wild and this was very reassuring because I was worried Wantok wouldn’t be able to find a group. Here it is:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yo8pmpD62lg&feature=endscreen&NR=1

When we first acquired Wantok, one of Son’s friends came over and I was showing her off, saying she was an endangered species, but he told me that where he lives (about 7 kilometres east of here up in the hills) there are red-tailed black cockatoos everywhere. Of course I felt a little silly then! Anyway that’s where I’m sure Wantok must have gone as it is an area of dense bush, a beautiful habitat.

A weird thing happened yesterday. I heard Wantok’s distinctive cry except it was multiplied and, looking up, I watched in awe as a beautiful black cloud of red-tailed black cockatoos flew across the farm, very high up in the sky. This has never happened before and I was so amazed it took me a moment to get my voice to call out “Wantok?” but as quickly as they had appeared, they were gone.

We have definitely done the right thing.

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Shut up and listen!

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.

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Wantok wings away

Today is bittersweet because Wantok has flown away to her freedom, and I am numb with shock. This is what happened.

Son and I returned from visiting Husband in the hospital yesterday afternoon, to find that Wantok had begun to chew away the electrical power points in the veranda, so Son and I then had an argument about what to do with her.

Son: She wants to be free or she wouldn’t be getting so out of control.

Me: I told you I’ve ordered the aviary. We just have to wait a couple of weeks for it to be built.

Son: That’s not freedom. Look at her. She wants to fly, Mum – really fly. (Wantok was swooping back and forth above our heads).

Me: She can fly in here – she flies up and down the veranda all day. (I ducked as Wantok’s wings fanned my hair).

Son: And that’s normal, is it, for a huge, wild cockatoo to spend its life flying inside a room.

Me: Well, no.

Son: Same thing goes for the stupid aviary idea. She’ll still be trapped. I thought you didn’t agree with caging birds.

Me: I guess I thought she’d be more tameable and she could come in and out….

Son: Plus she’s started biting us – that means she’s not happy. And she stares out the window a lot. (As if to demonstrate this, Wantok settled on top of her cage and stared out the window at the peacocks.)

Me: So what do you want to do?

Son: I want to take her outside and see what happens.

Me: Okay, but if she flies off you have to follow her.

Son: Are you sure?

Me: No, but you obviously are.

So then Son went up to Wantok and she climbed onto his shoulder, then he walked to the veranda door, opened it and went outside. For a moment or so, Wantok took in the new situation, then seemed to take a deep breath and, in a whoosh of wings, she was off, uttering loud, guttural cries of joy.

I watched Son run after her, but less than a minute later he was back looking appalled.

Son: Mum, she was too fast. She’s already halfway to the hills. I lost sight of her. Oh no, what have I done? (He was close to tears).

Me: You’ve set her free. (I could feel a sliver of my heart peel away).

Oh, I hope we’ve done the right thing. There are wild cockatoos up in the hills and I feel sure she will find them and make friends with other wantoks and be much happier. Maybe she will come back and visit.

Maybe.

I am bereft.

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Strategies for dealing with aggressive birds

Happy new year everyone. One of the first things on my list of things-to-do-in-2012 is to improve these strategies.

The loaf of bread strategy:

Okay, you already know about Godfrey, the Godfather of ganderdom. Now, don’t get me wrong; I adore Godfrey, but it’s unrequited, so now I honk back at him when I am trying to pat MY geese, not HIS geese, and today I slapped him in the head with a loaf of bread after he bit me on the bum again. This was quite effective except that Godfrey took the whole loaf of bread and ran away, with the gang following. So much for their loyalty. I will need to perfect this strategy before I patent it. Oh, and don’t be fooled by the gentleness of this picture; it was taken months ago, before Godfrey became the Godfather.

The leg-shaking strategy:

Tina Turner is the Araucana rooster who seemed like a hen to begin with. Okay, so I got that wrong. Well, Tina has recently developed an antipathy towards me which he demonstrates by flying at my legs and latching on with his substantial claws. This is very painful, especially if you are wearing shorts. Now it has been suggested to me that his behaviour might be an expression of adoration but don’t think so. Anyway, this is how to do the leg-shaking thing. You just walk slowly towards the rooster, lifting one leg at a time and shaking it. If the rooster tries to get behind you and trick you, just keep doing the leg-shaking. Sometimes this means that you will accidentally kick the rooster but if that happens don’t worry as the rooster will recover. Incidentally, this is also a great leg-toning exercise.

I’ve used the following photo of Tina on this blog before but I haven’t been able to take another one because it’s hard to take a photo while you are leg-shaking.

The screech strategy:

This one is very good for Willy wagtails who are nesting in washhouses on old farms. In a previous post I mentioned how difficult it is for me to do the washing whilst being dive-bombed by screeching Willy wagtails. So now what I do is I run, screeching loudly, into the washhouse and continue screeching until I have put the load of washing on. I’ve learned that I have to screech louder than they screech in order for the strategy to work. What happens is that they will vacate the washhouse for approximately two minutes, so obviously this strategy needs a bit of tweaking.

This photo is courtesy of Wikipedia http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Willie_wagtail_in_nest.jpg

So there you have it: three very effective strategies for dealing with aggressive birds. I realise these strategies need refining, so any suggestions are welcome!

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Poised

This is of one of the white peacocks standing poised on an old water tank stand, on the brink of flying to a place of rest and quiet for the night.

I just went in to the hospital to visit Husband who is poised, on the brink of admission to a nursing home and the most beautiful thing is that he is fine about this. He is happy, not yearning for home like I thought he would and the relief I feel is like a waterfall gone mad!

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A flock of birds

The following message was sent to me by my brother and I think it’s worth posting.
“When a flock of birds fly they organise themselves, without apparent communication, into formations that allow each one to be pulled along in the slipstream when they’re tired. Or exhausted. Or injured.
They do it so well that they can fly, as a group, thousands of kms across oceans and then have enough energy to find feeding grounds from the year before. And without fail they are blown off course during the ordeal. None would make it alone. Prior to setting off they look after themselves in order that they may endure.  They also inherently know that they will be called upon to care for their own along the way and take their turn at the front where the going is toughest. If they are unfit, the flock dies with them. Each one therefore cares for his brother or sister, son or daughter.
At quiet times they molt. Every time I see my birds molt, or my dogs, or I see my people shed layers, another newer, better, fresher layer miraculously appears. The process always seems uncomfortable however; even torturous at times.
Your wings are flayed, now.”
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Button up, Buttons!

Buttons, our little weiro, has, I’ve discovered, a complete inability to read mood. Today, which is a sad, quiet day due to circumstance you are probably sick of hearing about (which is why I’m not mentioning them), has been filled with the sounds of Buttons singing, chirping and whistling joyfully. She has been doing so since around 5am – loudly!

At 6am, I came out to the veranda and said sternly, “Buttons, will you please shut up – I’m trying to have a sleep in.” Then I went back to bed and there were a few blissful minutes of silence before her singing whirled through the house again. She is the smallest, by far, of any of our birds but definitely the loudest, even louder than the peacocks, guinnea fowl and roosters put together. How such volume of sound can come out of such a tiny creature amazes me.

This is what she looks like just after I tell her to shut up.

She doesn’t look the least bit hurt or perturbed, does she; the expression on her face (yes, I am getting better at interpreting this!) shows that, as soon as I walk away, she will once again open her little beak and emit yet another operatic sequence.

LOUDLY!

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A brand new thing

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.

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Feathers in the nostrils

In the middle of this picture you see Diamond on the left and Woodroffe on the right, two Sebastapol geese (the other two, Ola and Seli – named after my nieces, Olivia and Selina, are Pilgrim geese). At the time I couldn’t wait for Woody and Diamond to grow up because I’d seen pictures of how beautiful they would become as adults. See the Wikipedia link here:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sebastopol_Goose

Well, now that they are nearly fully grown, they are indeed beautiful, almost magical, in appearance. Here is Woody.

And here is Diamond.

They are almost impossible to tell apart now except that Woody has a little grey mark on the right side of his forehead and is much friendlier than Diamond. As you can see, Diamond has developed a bit of the Godfrey arrogance! In fact I suspect that Diamond may well be a male, and Woodroffe might be a female, but it is obviously too late to change their names because, when I call them, they respond to these names.

I kind of miss the cute, soft cuddliness of their littleness, but they still like to have their incredible feathers stroked! The only drawback is that these curly feathers sometimes float up into my nostrils which doesn’t help the hayfever I always suffer this time of year.

When I went to the chemist the other day, he asked me what was the main trigger and I said, “Sebastopol goose feathers.”

He looked at me strangely before handing me the tablets.

 

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