humour | jmgoyder

Peafowl ‘prantics’!

by jmgoyder

Here is a link to a very short youtube of a guy in China using some sort of peafowl horn to call peas down from mountains. I definitely need to find this guy!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iy_A3Tt8tcI

I looked online for one of these horn things but the one I thought would be good turned out to be an antique ornament and not a real one and, since then, I have given up because one of my blog friends suggested I imitate the call myself, so I have been doing that but now I’ve lost my voice!

Okay, so for anyone who needs a recap of the situation, it is mating season and a few of our adolescent peas are experiencing wanderlust and adventuring off to forbidden territories (the neighbours’ roof). This has caused a fair bit of high drama:

Email from neighbours:

FOR SOME TIME NOW YOUR 3 PEACOCKS AND 20 ODD PEAHENS HAVE BEEN SPENDING MOST DAYS AND NIGHTS OVER HERE AND HAVE BEEN MAKING AN AWFUL MESS EVERYWHERE. THEY HAVE BEEN FLYING ON THE ROOF AND MESSING IN OUR DRINKING WATER. THIS IS NOT ACCEPTABLE!!!

PLEASE CONTAIN THE BIRDS ON YOUR SIDE OF THE FARM. SURELY, IF YOU KEEP EXOTIC BIRDS YOU SHOULD LOOK AFTER THEM PROPERLY. UNLESS YOU WANT THEM IMPOUNDED BY THE RANGER, I SUGGEST YOU KEEP THEM PENNED.

My response:

Don’t stress. Except for King and Queenie (the adult couple), this is their first mating season, so they’re experiencing a bit of wanderlust. It won’t last long. We only have a total of 15 peafowl (12 blues and 3 whites), so I have no idea where the others are coming from. I feed ours at around 5pm and they roost in the wattle trees at the back every night.

A further comforting response from me:

I think all of the peafowl are back here now. If they return to your place again, simply point a hose at them and shoo them away in our direction. You can hose them off the roof or out of the tree this way. If you do this to a peahen, the peacock will follow … As I said in my previous email, this wanderlust is a seasonal thing and will not last. However the girls may be looking for nesting spots so you will need to persevere with the above methods. I’ve rung and left a message with two peafowl-savvy friends who will come and get them if the‘problem’ persists. Some of them may need to be re-homed.

So sorry but, again, this is a passing phase and I have spoken to the ranger and he’ll alert me if you alert him. Much better, though, if you simply ring me.

Email from neighbours:

CONSIDERATION IS THE OPERATIVE WORD!!! Your Peafowl are over here all the time and it has gone far enough! They are making such a mess (as Ming saw), the worst thing is that they have polluted our drinking water by defecating on the roof and everywhere else. Advice from the Ranger and the Shire (Clause 480 of the local Govt. Act) is that we are to give you 7 days notice to remove your birds or we will dispose of them ourselves, one way or the other. It is a week since we notified you of this problem and has made no difference.

My response:

I’ve come to the conclusion that you actually like fighting with people – so sad. I don’t understand why you are so angry and miserable; it must be exhausting. Ah yes, the frolicking peafowl: I will take the seven days notice as of today, and make some phone-calls. There is a waiting list for peafowl so it shouldn’t be a problem to re-home some of them. Have you tried hosing them away, as I suggested, or even shooting the gun into the air? The latter is bound to work …. As I said before, this is a passing phase, due to mating season, and may require a bit of latitude on your part. Do you not have a water filter for your tank?

……

Now obviously I have omitted names from the above cut/paste, but you get the gist. Since then (due to reports to the ranger and his emails to interested parties), I have had several people ringing me who want the peas and I have finally decided the guy up the road with a more isolated property, and with a great sense of humour, is the one who I will give a few males to. Now we just have to catch them!

I sat outside tonight, as usual, and did the bread ritual and I counted 12 peafowl zooming up into the trees, so 3 are missing and I guess they are on the neighbours’ roof again – argh! I got Ming to ring and leave a message that all is in hand now. But somehow I feel this drama isn’t over!

Prince: What the hell is going on now?

I think Julie is in trouble again

Animal Family Friendship Wings

52 Comments »

The email worked!

by jmgoyder

The email I sent myself included the following suggestions. Here are my ‘answers’!

Get your act together.

I am not an actor.

You are doing fine.

No, I’m not.

Make a great meal.

I made chicken noodle soup from scratch last night – will that do?

Go for a walk.

I walked around the house and around the yard twice.

Forget about your NanoWriMo failed attempt – get back to your half-written novella.

I think I may have trashed that novella.

Make a list of things you need to do and put it on the frig.

The list needs several frigs.

Recharge your camera and start taking photos again!

I am still searching for the recharging thingy.

Get the paper work sorted into categories and do NOT panic.

I have found all of the paperwork and placed it neatly into a box.

Try to conjure something to look forward to.

Fame and fortune.

Stop being so hard on yourself.

I’m not!

Stop sulking.

Okay.

Practise smiling in front of the mirror.

This was a very good idea but I think I need one of my teeth capped.

Keep going.

I am, you idiot!

…………………………………

Is talking to yourself the first sign of madness?

Animal blogging Friendship Wings

44 Comments »

The email

by jmgoyder

I received an email this morning that contained some harsh words and some kind words:

Get your act together.

You are doing fine.

Make a great meal.

Go for a walk.

Forget about your NanoWriMo failed attempt – get back to your half-written novella.

Make a list of things you need to do and put it on the frig.

Recharge your camera and start taking photos again!

Get the paper work sorted into categories and do NOT panic.

Try to conjure something to look forward to.

Stop being so hard on yourself.

Stop sulking.

Practise smiling in front of the mirror.

Keep going.

There was much more to this email but those were the main points. The sender’s voice was strong but loving because the sender was me.

Have you ever sent yourself an email?

blogging Family Friendship

56 Comments »

A stern word

by jmgoyder

King: I have had a stern word with the boys and they have promised not to go over to the neighbours’ house again.
Me:Thanks, King.

Queenie: I have had a meeting with the girls this morning and told them that they must stay here.
Me: Thanks, Queenie.

Prince: Julie, we never go over to the neighbours’ place. It’s just those stupid blue peas that do that.

Princess 1: Yes, be assured, Julie – Princess 2 and I never leave here.

Peacock teen 1: I was just trying to get a bit of privacy with my girlfriend. How was I supposed to know I wasn’t allowed to go over the road?
Peacock teen 2: You’re not talking about Penny I hope.
Peacock teen 1: Yes, isn’t she gorgeous!
Peacock teen 2: Penny is my girlfriend, you idiot.
Peacock teen 1: Oh, sorry, they all look the same!

Animal Friendship Wings

30 Comments »

Boom, crash, opera!

by jmgoyder

I bought a CD for Anthony one Christmas and we played it loudly. It was opera and it was Ming’s first exposure to any music other than ‘The Wiggles’. He was four and a half.

From the time he heard that CD, Ming sang operatically all over the house. This lasted for about six months. Instead of saying all of his new words, he’d warble them. “Where’s teddyyyyyy?”; “Gimmeeeee gingereeeeeeella [ginger ale] – please Mummyyyyyyyy daaaaaaarliiiing” – were sung so powerfully that I was afraid the windows would shatter.

At pre-school he did the same. With no self-consciousness whatsoever, he’d trill, “I want red tractoooooor”; or “I havta blow my noooooooose.” Everything was sung, so much so that he became somewhat famous for his operatic voice. The other kids would say, “Sing opera, Ming” and he’d sing his little repertoire, grinning when everyone clapped.

Then he started singing an octave lower. When he was being a wolf, his growl would become a surprisingly deep warble. When he was playing cars, his ‘vrooming’ would transform into a thunderous baritone. The first time I heard this, I rushed into his bedroom, thinking he was having some sort of strange fit.

But, as suddenly as it started, the opera-singing stopped – bang. A friend I hadn’t seen for ages dropped in and, over coffee, mentioned she’d been taking opera lessons. I said, proudly, “Ming does opera – he’s amazing.”

She looked doubtful, but I introduced them to each other anyway, telling Ming that Ann was an opera singer.

“Your mother tells me you sing opera,” she boomed. (She was quite a large, boisterous woman). “Sing,” she commanded.

Ming looked at me, then looked at her, then looked at me again. He opened his mouth, then closed it on a croak.

“Do you want me to sing for you, then?” she asked Ming and he nodded shyly, but he didn’t look one bit keen. He climbed onto my lap for reassurance.

For the next five minutes, her enormous voice filled the house. The volume was alarming in its intensity. Ming clutched my hand, eyes wide with shock, and I felt my own pulse quicken with amazement.

After she left, Anthony came in from the dairy and said, “Why did you and your friend have that CD turned up so loudly? We could hear it over in the shed.”

I explained and he roared with laughter. “Where’s Ming?” he asked.

“He’s being a tiger in his room, I think,” I said.

“Are you sure? It’s so quiet.”

We both went and had a peek. Ming had his plastic tiger mask on and was snarling at an imaginary foe outside the window. The snarls were not musical; in fact, they were more like mimes.

He turned around and saw us, then whispered, very seriously, “I don’t do opwa anymore.”

Ming didn’t sing a note for days! It was a BeeGees special on TV that finally broke the silence, and we got our little singer back. He still does that falsetto thing marvelously!

Animal Family Friendship

55 Comments »

‘Neighbours’

by jmgoyder

You know that very successful Australian soap opera, Neighbours? Well I have decided to audition for a part in an episode I will write myself. It will have to be set just outside the town on a small rural property and the drama will unfold around my character’s peafowl frolicking on the neighbours’ roof, and the climax will be when the neigbours threaten to exterminate them. This could possibly be lengthened to three episodes.

Yes, this is tongue in cheek of course and the situation is real, not fictitious. Okay, for a week or so some of our peafowl have been wandering further afield than usual because, as I described in a previous post, we have an overabundance of males and the girls are trying to get away from all the attention. It is mating season. I thought they had stopped going over to the neighbours’ house and I have told them to hose them away or else shoot the gun into the air to scare them. I understand the neighbours’ irritation; people either love or hate peacocks. This elderly couple hate them. Their complaint is not unreasonable as the few that wander over fly onto their roof and poop so they are worried about their drinking water being contaminated. I suggested getting a water filter but that didn’t go down too well.

So, in response to two shouting emails from the neighbours (you know – emails that are capitalized and punctuated by lots of exclamation marks), I have made some calls and found several people who are willing to re-home a few of them (there are three that keep absconding). I am happy about this because I would rather re-home these renegades than have my neighbours shoot or poison them which is a definite possibility.

I don’t see this as a loss because when I purchased the unsexed chicks I didn’t know so many would be males, so it will be good to place them elsewhere so that the females aren’t so overwhelmed. Hopefully this will appease the neighbours’ wrath but I don’t think so because the wrath was already there. In fact, these are the very same people that I nicknamed ‘the horribles’ many posts ago. They absolutely love a fight and the peafowl are a wonderful opportunity. Unfortunately for them, I do not like fighting, so I have apologized and reassured them that someone will soon come and get the peafowl who like their roof so much. Problem solved.

I will ring the executive producer of Neighbours right now – hahaha!

Animal Family Wings

41 Comments »

Love story 114 – ‘Andony’

by jmgoyder

As a two-year-old, Ming gave much more of his affection to me than he did to Anthony. So, for awhile it seemed like I was the privileged parent. Sometimes I even worried (although somewhat smugly!) that Anthony might become jealous of the multiple kisses I received from Ming, compared to his own daily ration of one, maybe two.

But it wasn’t Anthony who became jealous; it was me! Why? Because, as Ming approached the age of three and began to acquire more and more words, I remained fixed in his vocabulary as ‘Mummy,’ whereas ‘Daddy’ became ‘Andony’.

My envy was made worse by Ming’s clear reasoning when I told him, rather shyly, that he could call me ‘Julie’ if he wanted to.

“But you’re just Mummy, Mummy – NOT Julie,” he said very definitely. He looked at me quizzically, obviously wondering if I understood or not.

“So how come you call Daddy ‘Anthony’?” I asked, hesitantly.

“Coz Andony is my bestest fren,” Ming said. Again, the slightly ironic frown.

I’m ashamed to say that my secret jealousy of the mateship between Anthony and Ming worsened over the ensuing weeks. Then, just as suddenly, it dissipated when one evening the brightness of their relationship clarified itself and I understood.

Ming was sitting on Anthony’s knee, and they were watching cartoons. I joined them, sitting across the room, and, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ming deposit a series of soft kisses onto Anthony’s cheeks, then stroke his head with delicate, though bongo-style, pats.

It had been ages (a couple of days, I think!) since Ming had given me that sort of affection and I felt a mixture of yearning and bright, fluorescent, green envy.

I turned and caught Anthony’s eye. Ming saw the look and, perhaps thinking that I, too, wanted some attention, he tumbled off Anthony’s lap and toddled over to me. Well, it’s about time, I thought to myself.

“Mummy,” he whispered, climbing onto my knee, “I can ownee give you one kiss.”

“Why is that?” I exclaimed – a bit too forcefully perhaps.

“Because!” Ming said, alarmed at my tone but still with that wise-owl look on his face, “Andony is my bewful, bewful son.”

He kissed me benevolently once on the cheek, then hopped down and toddled back to Anthony’s lap, calling back to me over his shoulder, “You’ll be awight, Mummy, you’re a vewy big girl now.”

The day Ming was born

The three of us

The thing is that Ming has no recollection of these days. He only vaguely remembers running from one side of the room pictured above and flying into Anthony’s lap – constantly! He now calls Anthony ‘Dad’. He was glad not be home this morning for the excursion event.

For awhile I wrestled with myself about whether to force Ming to come with me to visit Ants more often but, as a friend recently pointed out to me, not many 18-year-olds want to spend time with their parents anyway so it’s not such a big deal. So I don’t push Ming anymore and I certainly don’t make him feel guilty about his disengagement from Anthony, and, fortunately, Anthony is content to see Ming occasionally or else speak on the phone.

So the ‘Andony’ days are well and truly over and that is okay because it has to be okay.

Family Friendship LOVE STORY

30 Comments »

Spitting the dummy 2

by jmgoyder

Peer pressure is a funny thing. No matter how much you resist it, you end up succumbing. Even when you’re only three and a half years old.

It wasn’t long before Ming’s fourth birthday that he began to realize that it wasn’t just Grandma who disapproved of his dummy (his “tuntun”).

The dummy situation changed rather dramatically for Ming when one of his playgroup friends Dillan came for a playover (Ming’s first ever). As soon as Dillan saw Ming pop the dummy into his mouth, he shrieked with laughter and yelled, “Ming is just a baby, Ming is just a baby,” in that singsong, horrible way children-teasing-other-children do with such sadistic delight.

Ming immediately spat the dummy out, unpinned it and dropped it, before throwing himself at Dillan and wrestling him to the ground. Then, when Dillan started crying, Ming mimicked him by yelling, “Dillan’s just a baby” over and over again, furiously.

I was a bit shocked at the sudden violence of the confrontation and it took a lot of chocolate cake and lemonade to pacify the two little macho machines.

But it marked a turning point for Ming. He knew now that it wasn’t only Grandma who thought the dummy was silly. Dillan’s words had sunk in and now Ming was actually embarrassed about his tuntun – embarrassment being another new experience.

Anthony and I had never worried about the dummy phase; we knew it wouldn’t last forever anyway. But after his altercation with Dillan, Ming started trying to kick the habit by himself. “Oany lemmee have it when I go to bed,” he’d say, sternly, putting it under his pillow.

His self-discipline amazed us. Only once over the ensuing weeks did Ming succumb to a day-time suck, and that was after he had a nasty fall and grazed his knee. But he still depended on that dummy at night-time.

Then, one afternoon, it wasn’t there and we couldn’t find it anywhere (I discovered it later inside the pillow case). Panic stations! I rushed up to the local shop and there was just one left – a pink one. My friend, Anna served me and asked who the dummy was for.

“Umm, we have visitors with a new baby,” I lied, guiltily.

“Okay,” she said, hearing the urgency in my voice.

I got home and Ming took the new dummy out of its packaging and stuck it straight into his mouth, only removing it briefly to murmur sleepily, “You are the bestest mummy in the whole wide world.”

And a month later he was over it. Just like that, he forgot about the tuntun. But I’ve kept that last dummy as a reminder of my great big beautiful baby.

Ming without dummy

I bumped into Anna the other day and told her the truth about this and she couldn’t stop laughing!

Family Friendship

32 Comments »

Spitting the dummy 1

by jmgoyder

From the day he was born until the age of four years, Ming absolutely adored his dummy. He eventually called it his ‘tuntun’ (because Anthony remembered calling his own dummy a ‘tuntun’!) and it was pinned to Ming’s shirt 24/7.

By the time he was two years old we were up to tuntun number 11. Transitions from old, flat, chewed up, disgusting tuntuns to new, fresh, bulbous tuntuns were always difficult though and Ming would shriek, “I want my oooooooold tuntun!” But eventually he would bite and chew and suck the new dummy until it flattened into the shape he liked.

My mother thoroughly disapproved of the dummy, and by the time he was nearly four, Ming knew that when Grandma visited, she would say, “Oh take that horrible thing out of your mouth; you’re a big boy now!” So he became very surreptitious. He would suck the dummy madly until he heard her voice at the door, then he’d quickly unpin it and give it to me, so that she wouldn’t see it. “Quick, Mummy, hide the tuntun from Gwamma or she’ll gwowl,” he’d whisper, panic-stricken.

Sometimes I would put it in my pocket but if my mother stayed for longer than a couple of hours, Ming would soon become transfixed by the shape of his tuntun through my jeans pocket and stare at it longingly. Or he would brush past me and pat it, as if to say, “Soon, tuntun, soon.”

So I started putting it under his pillow so he could go and have a secret suck when he wanted to. It was hilarious – he was like a wardrobe drinker! He’d be in the middle of playing snakes and ladders with my mother and he’d suddenly dash away, up the hallway into his room, saying, “Juss a minit, Gwamma,” over his shoulder, then dash back, eyes slightly glazed, but resume the game with new energy. His secret was safe with me, and my mother never had a clue (until I told her later and she and I would crack up laughing!)

As soon as my mother went home, Ming would rush to his pillow, retrieve the tuntun and pin it back onto himself, then put it in his mouth and suck with great gusto, an ecstatic, dreamy expression almost immediately flooding his face.

I hadn’t thought to confront my mother about the fact that her disapproval of the dummy was affecting her relationship with Ming until one day, after she left, Ming climbed onto my lap, tuntun reattached and said, “I doan like Gwamma vewy much sometimes, Mummy.”

“She just thinks you’re too big for your tuntun, because you’re nearly four now,” I said, giving him a hug.

“Does you and Andony hate my tuntun too?” he said, a worried look on his face.

“Of course not!” I said, reassuringly.

“Thank Gawwwd!” he exclaimed, putting the tuntun into his mouth and looking up at me, his big blue eyes soft with contentment. And relief!

Ming nervous someone will see his ‘tuntun’!

My beautiful mother and Mingy (see the tuntun?)

Family Friendship

18 Comments »

Why didn’t I think of this before?

by jmgoyder

Every Thursday morning the nursing lodge has a bus excursion and Anthony usually goes. Last Thursday I arrived at the nursing lodge at around noon to be told that Anthony was still out and that the excursion was to Dardanup (our town!) They’d gone up to the hills just past our farm. So, when the bus returned and Ants was being helped back to his room by the nurse in charge of the excursion, I asked if it would be possible for the bus to come to our place and she said yes!

So tomorrow, they are coming here and I am so excited. The nurse said they might make it a semi-regular thing and I wanted to kiss her feet! This would be a stress-free way of getting Anthony home for a few hours and I am sure the other residents will enjoy it too. They always bring their own morning tea and there are enough staff for any toilet emergencies, so I am definitely in yeeha mode! Anthony seems to think it is a great idea too.

I have told the birds that they will have an audience tomorrow between 9.30 and 11.30am, so they are all practising for Godfrey’s contortionist competition.