CONNIKA

RED BROWED FIRETAIL

When Anton, Greer and the girls were here last month, Anton took some gorgeous photographs.  Isn't this wee fella beautiful?  Looks as though someone has made a bird, stood back to admire, then picked up the paintbrush, dipped it in some red paint and with two quick brushstrokes prepared him for a night on the town.  And oops, some got on the beak too!

A STRANGE ONE

 

This wee fella came into the garden the other day.  We assume he is a young pale-headed rosella although his head doesn't seem to be the colour it should be!  David searched his bird book and there was nothing to suggest this particular orange head existed in the current bird population.  But, isn't he beautiful?

And...a definite pale-headed rosella.

IN THE GARDEN THIS MORNING & FIVE FROLICKING FRIARBIRDS

"...has spoken like the first bird."   But in this morning's case it wasn't a blackbird, it was five frolicking friarbirds in the firebush.  No it wasn't really, there were two of them in the grevillias.  A beautiful morning with beautiful sounds.  Really did make me wonder what the very first 'morning' looked like?  Could it have possibly looked or sounded any better?

GETTING CLOSER TO THE BEDROOM WINDOW

 

 

 

MEMORIES OF SPRING

Popped into BACKWARDS IN HIGH HEELS AT www.taniakinderlsey.blogspot.com where she had put up a post about a little fledgling that had fallen out of the nest in her garden.  It reminded me of an experience I had with little fledglings here in my garden.

It was Spring and there was a nest just outside my kitchen window (in quite a large pot plant).  These little birds had been in the nest for what seemed like weeks and weeks.  One day while I was washing the dishes, a butcher bird;  you can imagine what kind of bird this is by its name came a-knockin' at the door to say "Hi!" to the wee babies.  Mama and Papa were hysterical and I joined in by running outside and waving my tea-towel around.  Everything settled down but I was so neurotic about big bird coming back, I had to leave the house and sit outside to protect this little home.

While I was sitting there reading my book, I occasionally looked up to see Mama and Papa swooping in and out with little morsels for their babies.  Swoosh!  They went back and forth, sometimes landing on the fairy lights which were strung across the patio.  Time passed when I realized that everything had gone very, very quiet.  I fetched the ladders, climbed up and peered into the nest.  Yup, they were all gone.  Couldn't believe it - while I was sitting there reading a whole flittin' had taken place.

I wrote a poem:

On Seeing the Nest Empty on 30 September 2004   (I had been reading some Wordsworth and was quite taken with some of the titles he gave his poems!)

I never saw you all

Up there out of reach.

On my toes I tried.

 

Ladders to peer by another

To see survival in your song.

Back and forward you came

Love swooping joyfully in flights of yellow through the

morning and afternoon light.

Ecstatic as you swung like acrobats on reminders of past celebrations.

 

Today, all is quiet and

there is a sadness in your absence.

Leaves quiver only in the breeze now.

 

As I write and watch, the little owls come to inspect.

They too feel the emptiness; the desertion.

 

In December, a new celebration will bring light to your existence

And I will remember the days of Spring.

FROM THE VERANDAH IN MACKAY

"Feed me Mama!"  Actually, I think it's Daddy that's feeding this chick.  Isn't he just beautiful?  I shall look the bird book up tomorrow to see what type of honeyeater this is - it's getting late here...heading off to ma wee white bed...zzzz    It's a Blue Face Honeyeater.

RAINBOW LORIKEET

 

While we were at the Gold Coast at the weekend, this wee fella came down to the verandah where we were eating breakfast. 

IN THE GARDEN THIS WEEK

 

I was sitting at the dining-room table having breakfast the other morning when these two came to the bird-feeder.  I got up as carefully as I could to get the camera but they were aware of me and flew away.  Thankfully they came back and I managed to get this great shot of them.  For anyone overseas, these are galahs. 

WOUNDED WINGS...

 

This wee bird (a honey-eater I think) crashed into the window when I was down at Charis' last week.  In this photo it has managed to get to its feet with the help of its mate.  Charis, Neil, Anne and I watched in amazement as its mate chirped, and chirped and chirped and jumped up and down;  wildly trying to get its mate into recovery mode.  Unfortunately I was unable to get the mate into a photograph - at this point it had moved off to watch.  The other bird also moved behind its mate and prodded it with its beak trying to help it.  It was an amazing sight.  While I was watching it I remembered a poem I had tucked away somewhere.  Found it - not sure what it's called but it's written by Joy Crawford.

We were learning to fly together,

     currawongs, magpies, rosellas,

              tiny pardalotes, a few galahs,

And it was fun

      practising taking off together,

                 landing

Even having a go at formation flights...

Then Bang!

     a shotgun blast

             wounded wings, quivering

Scattering us from the Holy Place

Limping together in a circle to weep, take stock

      be open to each other,

         to forgive

And in a new and honest way, through the pain,

     receive the broken bread

          the poured out wine...

And now a new spirit is here this morning!

     growing up, strong,

            not to be denied.

Feel as though we're changing shape-

   One Bird

         learning to fly with wounded wings.

IT'S ALL BLOWED AWAY

 

This photo is a few weeks old and the blossom has since blown away but I thought it too lovely not to put up on the blog.  Think the bird is a rainbow lorikeet.  Will confirm with David!