jmgoyder

wings and things

Sundown

Ever since the peachicks entered our lives, over a week ago, everybird has become very attentive at sundown, including this young couple (the peahen is the second one to finally return although without chicks).
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Prince is also quite interested in how Queenie gets the chicks to bed (notice how he has lost all of his long tail feathers – all the peacocks have now).
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Gutsy9 is a bit jealous and is always right next to me. If I crouch down, she offers her neck to be stroked.
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While Queenie is stirring the chicks up, preparing them for their bedtime transition to the avocado tree, I put the geese, duck and turkey into their yard for the night. I have been trying to flood their pen in order to create a kind of pond for them and it is working.
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Queenie and the peachicks take ages to get ready for bed.
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So I take a photo of the fig tree while I wait.
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The younger peahen flies into the yard to encourage Queenie.
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King (undoubtedly the father) also flies into the yard and takes a protective stance.
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And then the magic begins. The bigger chick actually leads the way!
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Queenie has to help the smaller chick.
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But it comes back down again to say goodnight to me.
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This is around the same time (7.30-8pm) that Anthony often suffers ‘Sundowner syndrome’ so, once I leave the birds and go into the house, I always ring the nursing home to say goodnight to him. As he almost never answers the phone himself I usually have to get the nurse-in-charge to enable a conversation. Lately Ants has been okay, delusional but not upset. He often thinks he is either at boarding school, a hospital, a party, or a pub.

I tell him about the birds, and say goodnight, with a sense of tentative peace, which is probably how Queenie feels at the top of that avocado tree (can you spot her?)
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‘Cheep cheep’

A bit over a week ago I began to hear cheeping every time I went out in the evening to feed, water and put the gang (geese and duck and turkey) into their pens. None of the peafowl have ever been penned because our dogs don’t attack them and they fly up into the trees at night to sleep.

We have five peacocks (one white and the rest blue) – and seven peahens (two white, four green and Gutsy9), but during mating season all except one peahen and G9 disappeared. I assumed they were all nesting somewhere, or trying to, and I hoped for the best that none of them had been killed by wild foxes. But as the weeks went by I began to lose hope and the peacocks’ cries became more mournful.

I didn’t even let myself hope for chicks because, with the crows and foxes, I knew they had little chance of surviving, so I put the cheeping sound down to my imagination and/or the sound of wild bird chicks somewhere. I did a bit of a search every afternoon/evening, but nothing.

Then one evening, I saw them! Two chicks with Queenie (our oldest peahen) foraging under a shrub. I was delighted, but decided not to intervene because I could see they were a great little unit, so different from when I found G9 a year ago, obviously abandoned.

I didn’t hold much hope for them but for the next couple of evenings they were still around! Our dogs hadn’t detected them, they hadn’t drowned in the pond, and they were surviving without human intervention. Nevertheless, I knew these tiny creatures were in great danger from predators so a week ago Ming herded Queenie and the chicks into our smallest pen. I put a shallow water bowl in the yard and lots of wheat grain, which is what I feed all of the birds, and, when they were all still there the next morning I breathed a sigh of relief. The bottom of our three animal yards is meshed to prevent foxes getting in so I assumed Queenie and her kids were sleeping there.

And maybe they were! But then, the other evening, they weren’t; they were gone! I assumed the worst until they were back in that same pen the next morning. This has been going on now for a few days: Queenie and chicks in pen during daylight; Queenie and chicks gone from pen by 7pm.

How do they do this magic trick? I will tell you tomorrow. In the meantime:

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Another little blog break

One of the unexpected bonuses of blogging for me has been the very real friendships formed, the mutual support, the shared humour, the shared grief. The lessons of life that I have learned through other people’s stories, and interactions, have taught me how to better do empathy and sympathy, and forced me to feel the difference.

Thanks so much for those of you who have commented, ‘liked’, and given me your friendships. For those of you who are bloggers, I am struggling at the moment to keep up with your writings, so please forgive me for that. For Facebook friends, same thing really!

Ming goes to court in three days. Apparently he and I simply appear, his charges will be read out, and the case will be adjourned by our lawyer until the end of February. So I really need to concentrate on all of this at least until the beginning of February, and blogging will go on the back burner for the time being.

Hard to believe now that when I began blogging it was all about the birds.

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A rabbity argument

Ming and I had an argument the other day about our rabbit plague. He said they were attracted to the wheat I feed the peacocks, guinnea fowl, geese, duck etc. I said, what nonsense – everyone around here is being rabbit plagued!

It was only when I went outside to feed the birds the other afternoon that I realized Ming is absolutely right!

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The Australia puddle and other Spring things

The puddle in our driveway has held the shape of Australia for weeks and weeks and even had a Tasmania, but the latter evaporated a couple of days ago, before I remembered to take a photo. I wish I had, as it might have made me famous! I’ve decided not to get that Australia-shaped pot-hole filled with gravel now, in the hope that next Spring it will once again rain relentlessly and re-create the Australia puddle, with Tasmania, on our driveway. Then I will take lots of photos and have an exhibition and get rich. The reason I didn’t take the photos this time was because it was raining and I didn’t want to get drenched to photograph a puddle (I think that is more for the professionals.)

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A blue wren (very hard to photograph because they are so tiny and so fast!) After several attempts to get him in more natural surroundings, he landed on one of Anthony’s salvaged washing machine insides, that we use for an outside barbecue.
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A rare vision of Uluru looking calm. He is usually feisty, having to compete for the wheat with all the winged creatures.
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G9 in a tree. I have never seen him her do this before (even though I know that, at sundown, she flies up into the wattle trees for the night with all the other peafowl).
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Ming, with the dogs.
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Something wonderful happened today; I became a great-auntie for the first time. A beautiful baby was born and I mean this sincerely because, let’s face it, most babies are quite ugly for the first few days/hours – but not this one! She is exquisite! In respect of the new parents’ privacy, I will ask them before putting any photos of the kid on my blog.

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Just before dusk

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Roast duck and miscommunication

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Zaruma is one of our two pet Muscovy ducks. We raised him from a chick. Then we got Tapper and raised her from a chick too and now they are a happily married couple. At sundown I always put them into one of the fox-proof pens and they now look after Gutsy9, the baby peacock, during the nights. (One photo shows Zaruma clearly; the other photo shows all three unclearly).

Anyway, onto the miscommunication part of this post: Anthony absolutely loves roast duck so the other day I bought two frozen ducks. Well, yesterday I defrosted them to cook tonight so I could be a bit ahead of myself for Easter lunch. So, at 6.30pm I told Ming I would join him to watch our favourite TV show as soon as I put the ducks in. At 6.35pm this was our conversation:

Me: Okay, the ducks are in.
Ming (watching TV): How the hell did you do that so fast?
Me: Well I got them ready to go, put a bit of salt on and no need for oil because ducks have a lot of fat.
Ming: Salt! They don’t need salt do they?
Me: Well it just makes the meal a bit tastier.
Ming: You put salt on their wheat?
Me: What?
Ming: They’re ducks, Mum – they don’t need condiments!
Me: Well I was going to use some pepper too.
Ming: What?

And that’s when we realized that he thought I was talking about Zaruma and Tapper. LOL!

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Peekaboo!

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Gutsy9 has now been living outside for 16 days. To begin with, he was sleeping in a big cage within a pen, but he has now graduated to sleeping outside the cage because he is tall enough to drink from the water container without the risk of drowning.

Zaruma and Tapper (married Muscovy ducks) have taken a liking to him so I put them in the same pen as G9 for the night, with the geese and turkeys in a separate pen.

When I go out to the pens in the morning to let them all out for the day, all the birds go crazy with delight but G9 literally jumps for joy to see me and sometimes twirls himself around in a little happy dance before following me across the lawn and into the back veranda of the house.

He followed me into the bathroom today, asking for a cuddle!

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Embarrassment!

I went to see a new chiropractor today because my chiro. brother is living in Honiara at the moment. So I showered and dressed in my going-to-town clothes, making sure I had decent underwear on in case I had to get into a gown.

Just before I left home, I ran outside in my old sandals to let the geese, ducks and turkeys out of their pens for the day. I accidentally stepped in a couple of puddles and so my feet were covered in mud, but, as I was running late, I just rinsed and wiped as much of the grime off as possible, then threw socks and boots on and raced into town.

Imagine my horror when the chiropractor asked me to take my boots and socks off! Dirty feet that have been inside socks and boots for an hour on a hot day aren’t particularly pleasant things to deal with.

Reluctantly, I took off my boots, then said to the chiropractor, Do I have to take my socks off? I think my feet might be dirty. He just smiled and said yes because he wanted to test my reflexes. Argh! So I peeled my socks off to reveal two filthy feet with matching toenails. I looked at them in shock and said, Oh no, they are dirty! as if I had never seen those feet before, as if they belonged to someone else, a dirty person.

The rest of me is clean, I said lamely, as I explained about the chookyard mishap. But the chiropractor just smiled and did the reflex thing and asked about the birds as if to distract himself from the horror of touching my feet.

Well how was I suppose to know he’d want to see my feet?

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Stalker

Prince, our only male white peacock, is now stalking the gang nonstop. At first he was just picking on poor little Daffy, but now he seems to have it in for Zaruma too. And yesterday he attacked Godfrey!

Prince: Where are they?
Me: Why are you doing this, Prince? Leave the gang alone!

Prince: But Zaruma is such fun!
Me: Leave him alone!

Zaruma: Julie, HELP!
Me: Prince, if you don’t stop this harrassment immediately I will send you off to the neighbours’ roof where you will be hosed, yelled at and get a taste of your own medicine.

Prince: Okay, sorry, Julie – just having a bit of fun while Princess 1 is sitting on those egg things.
Me: Those egg things are your children, silly.
Prince: Oh!

Zaruma: Thanks, Julie. Tapper was getting worried about my mental health.

Godfrey: Julie, I know you and I haven’t always agreed on things but this time I am absolutely on your side. That Prince has become far to arrogant and I am going to wingpunch him next time.
Me: Thanks for your support, Godrey!

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