jmgoyder

I have asked Son to unsubscribe from my blog for three reasons:

1. He gets a bit freaked out reading about himself, especially if my anecdotes aren’t 110% literal;

2. He is irritated by the daily emails alerting him to my posts (lots of people probably are!); and

3. I don’t want him to know about the six emu chicks I’ve ordered.

I’m not sure if he’s unsubscribed yet and if I mention it again he might get suspicious, so I am just hoping that he will delete the email connecting him to this post.

The six new Emerys arrive in two weeks!

I realise that to many people grieving over the death of a bird may seem ridiculous or trivial and that, compared to losing a human companion – a child, friend, spouse, sibling, partner – it may even seem a little ‘wrong’.

That, being said, the discovery of Emery’s corpse (fox attack) at the side of a laneway in the back paddock today has been a terrible blow and the fact that Emerytwo and Emerytoo are still missing probably means that they are dead too. You see, unlike most of our other birds, emus can’t fly – they can’t fly to safety.

I will only post about the Emerys again if the latter two turn up, but I know they won’t because they would have by now. So, another lesson in loss.

One of the most beautiful gestures I have ever seen at a relative’s funeral was when the two adult sons, having delivered the eulogy, said goodbye to their father by leaving the podium and simulating flight; they raised their arms up and down, like wings, until they got back to their seats.

You can fly now, my three Emerys.

A few weeks ago I spotted an advertisement for two emu chicks and, thinking Emery might like a bit of emu company, I didn’t hesitate.

Well, Emery was intrigued and delighted. Apart from being a little bigger than the other two, they were all identical so I called the new chicks Emerytwo and Emerytoo; it seemed easier that way.

I didn’t mention them yesterday when I was so worried about Emery because, for some reason I thought if I put their disappearance into words, I would lose hope.

So, before losing hope, I will describe the delight of watching the three emus do laps around the garden. They are very fast, and sprint in a zig-zag fashion with their knees turned in, often bumping quite hard into things, including Godfrey, which doesn’t go down too well (but I think Emery does this on purpose!) If they lose each other even for a moment, they make this soft, whistling noise until they find each other again. After the sprinting they then plop down on the ground abruptly, legs stretched out the front, grab a bit of lettuce from my hand then they’re up and off again.

Maybe they’ve just decided to perfect their sprinting in a bigger area than our garden and have ventured into one of the paddocks surrounding us to practise for the Emu Olympics?

We have searched everywhere….

I am so worried. Son went to put him in the yard with the gang late this afternoon and he wasn’t around which is unusual.

It’s dark now so all we can do is wait and hope that he comes back later tonight or tomorrow morning for the breakfast lettuce treat.

Please come back Emery.

When I was telling a friend about a new bird acquisition the other day, she said “do you think you might be getting a bit manic?” I was perturbed about this remark so later I began to do a count of the birds and when I reached 50, and was still counting, I thought maybe she was right.

So, the next day, I told another friend about this and asked her if she, too, thought I was manic about the birds but she shook her head reassuringly. “Do you think I’m weird?” I pushed and, shocking us both into hysterics, she said, without the slightest hesitation, “Yes.”

Okay I admit I do look a bit weird in this photo but I think it’s the hideously old-fashioned sunglasses, not the emu on my lap.