jmgoyder

wings and things

James Bond

As a new photographer, with a new camera, but with no natural skill or training, I waited outside this afternoon for Son to come and show me where the ‘zoom’ button was, because I wanted to get some photos of the blue wrens surrounding me.

While I waited, I fiddled around with the various camera devices, looking desperately for the zoom function while blue wrens danced on my lap, kissed my fingers and finally settled onto my boots (none of which I can prove because, firstly, I’m exaggerating and, secondly, Son didn’t come back out of the house to show me where the stupid zoom button was).

Eventually, as stealthily as James Bond, I crept back into the house to discover that Son was dividing his time between Facebook and sweeping the kitchen floor (yeah, go figure) and not likely to help me for some time. As I was still in spy mode, I decided not to let this bother me, so I simply crept back outside, unnoticed by Son.

The blue wrens had gone so I took my camera up to the nearest paddock and took some photos of the beautiful steers belonging to our neighbours. One of them seemed to like me, which was comforting.

He and I took our first encounter cautiously –  one spy with another – but eventually he revealed his identity and I expressed my awe. And shock!

Look closely at his tag! 007! Imagine my embarrassment at pretending to be him! He was very forgiving though, this very real James Bond!

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‘Duuuuuuh’ moments

This morning I took Son to an outdoor concert where he is helping set up for the various bands. He would love to be performing himself, but these are professional bands and Son is still a novice, having only done three gigs so far. I reckon he looks the part though!

When I dropped him off, I asked him if there might be a slight chance he could perform, he said, “Mum, I have already told you a million times – NO! Sometimes you are really slow on the uptake!” He then pointed to his own big head and twirled his fingers to indicate the ‘duuuuuh’ sign. Yes, well….

Then I went to pick Husband up from the nursing lodge, to come home for the day. I stopped at the town’s farmers’ market to buy some cabbages (I usually get around ten at a time) and lettuces. On my way through the checkout, the girl serving me asked, “Where is your restaurant?” which, because of my slow mental reflexes, I thought was rather a strange question until she pointed to the mountain of cabbages.

“Oh,” I said, “no, these are just for my birds.”

“How many chooks do you have?” she asked, interested.

“This is actually for the emus,” I said.

When she laughed her head off, I realized she thought I was joking but, because Husband was waiting in the car, I didn’t bother to clarify.

“About five chooks,” I said.

“Wow, they must eat a lot,” she said, still laughing.

Another ‘duuuh’ moment.

Husband’s reunion with home and the dogs was lovely. I let them inside for awhile. Don’t be fooled by Husband’s lack of expression; that’s just the Parkinson’s disease. Doc is the one on his lap and Jack is our Irish Terrier. Blaze (Doc’s son) tends to cower when he is excited, so he isn’t in the picture because he stayed under one of the chairs (he and Doc have a fractious father/son relationship).

And then, all of a sudden, before the kettle had even boiled, the power went off – and stayed off for a couple of hours. So, no television, no airconditioning (it’s over 30 degrees and humid today), no water, no telephone. I plugged in the old telephone that doesn’t rely on electricity and rang the power emergency line and was put on hold, hold, hold, until I gave up and went back into the sitting room with Husband who suggested we have a beer! Okay, so we did that, had a chat about the future and then I said, “Okay I’m going to ring them again now.”

“Why?” Husband asked.

“Because I’m sick of this!” I said, impatiently. “We need electricity – this is ridiculous, waiting all this time.”

“But it’s fine,” Husband said, a strange look on his face.

“What?” I said. “Wait, I can’t hear you; the television is too loud.”

And, bingo, that’s when I realized that the power had come back on during our serious talk about the future and I hadn’t even noticed.

We both cracked up laughing after which Husband said he needed to have a lie down (laughter can be exhausting!)

And I am still laughing while I am writing about my third ‘duuuh’ moment in a single day – argh!

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Cabbage wisdom

I am very tempted to rename Son ‘Commander’ in this blog (because he is so bloody bossy!) but will refrain from doing so at the moment – well at least until he and I settle our power ratio arrangement. As you can see, for me this presents a bit of a challenge as he has a habit of standing in the sky!

There is another character here who is somewhat commander-ish: the tallest emu. His resemblance to Son is uncanny in so many ways. I admire them both for their courage and skill in not quite conforming. You see, not quite conforming is a clever way of not conforming at all, but still belonging.

This tallest of our emus, for example, doesn’t like cabbage (and, according to all of my research, there is no such thing as an emu who doesn’t like cabbage). I finally tried lettuce with him and he looked at me, condescendingly, as if to say, ‘about time you figured it out.’

Come to think of it, Son doesn’t like cabbage either, but I think that might be quite normal for non-emus!

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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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Why did I clip his wings?

I don’t know why.

I don’t clip the birds’ wings, despite the risks.

And, now that his wings have grown back, he wants to fly away as far as possible because he is sick of this rancid nest, plus I keep forgetting to feed him his mealworms!

He will forgive me I hope.

I will never clip his wings again.

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A love/hate relationship

“You’ve drawn the line now, haven’t you, Mum?” Son said on the way home from school.

“What line?” I asked innocently.

“The bird line – no more birds, okay.”

“You’re probably right.” I didn’t dare mention that while he was school, Husband and I had gone to pick up the four new turkey chicks.

“It’s just that all you do is talk birds, birds, birds and I want to talk about life.” Son is a bit of a philosopher and he particularly likes talking about his innermost thoughts.

“So how was Life today?”

“Yeah, well I gave that emo girl – you know the one who’s always depressed – my cherry ripe and she just chucked it on the ground and stepped on it and she and all her gang started laughing.” His voice broke and when I glanced at him tears were creeping out of his eyes so I pulled the car into a petrol station, my heart rolling over.

“So what did you do?”

“I just walked away but the headmaster was going past and told me off for littering.” By now, Son was beginning to chuckle.

“Why’d you give her the cherry ripe anyway?” I asked.

“To cheer her up.”

“Well, you did make her laugh!”

“Yeah, it’s the first time I’ve ever seen her teeth – kind of fangy, but nice. She should’ve auditioned for Twilight.” We both cracked up and I started the car again.

After a moment, Son said, “Thanks, Mum, you can talk about the birds now if you want.”

My heart did another roll, this time of panic. What if he discovered the turkeys today? They were safely hidden in the greenhouse where I often put the young birds to start with. There was no reason Son would go in there was there?

Alas, he did discover them but it wasn’t what I expected!

Note: Occasionally the anecdotes in this post will use a bit of poetic licence in order to protect the privacy of individuals who may recognise themselves and be embarrassed.

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