The morning was full of parrots They clambered over chairs many perched amongst the maples and through the windows they did stare their incessant voices calling their colours deep and and bright I wondered how long they had been there? had they been out there all night? it was bedlam on the verandah it was getting messy on the deck all so they could have a gander the new occupants they came to check would we feed them like they were used to? or leave them to their own means? were they welcome to visit regularly? or was that just a parrot dream?
I hear the rasping caw of the mortuary bird alone at the top of a single skeletal tree black feathered reaper scavenger and restorer observer for signs of frailty failure and futility
calling to others announcing death as imminent there at the carrion end of the cycle of life crow presence at death's arrival is prescient beak and claw ready to tear and cut like a knife
the murderous flock train beady eyes on their prey awaiting the moment they can safely descend they utter hexes for stillness at the meat of the day aware their role is to share in marking the end
In Australia we call a lookout a “Cockatoo” named after these birds because they always post a lookout in strategic position to watch over the flock and alert them to potential danger.
Cockatoos walk the walk they are smart and bold they talk the talk human or squawk they are social and caring for others in the flock they live for decades 100 years they can clock
Yellow-tailed black cockatoos, Strathbogie Forest.
The one on the left said, "What will we do? I think share all our seed, what about you two?" The one on the right said, "I've earned more than you." "I'll be taking full earnings, as is my due!" The one in the middle said, "Be reasonable." On cue. "There's no need to bicker, dissent or argue. Let's eat what we need and let some accrue." The way forward was set by this Yellow-tailed black guru.
Poetry days #22.
All work is my own and subject to copyright. I do not use AI. I do not want AI to use my work.
a brown goshawk feasts on an grey shrike thrush behind the house
Each bird to its own the cockatoos wheeling and complaining about the violent hand claps that have warned them off the fruit I swear they’ll go hungry or find someone else’s trees to plunder
the blackbird dashing here and there tossing up mulch and leaf litter from the garden beds every which way then singing for their supper who could begrudge them with such sweet voice
the tiny silver eyes scouring the Japanese maples for tiny insects darting from one bough to another twittering to each other as if conversation was never allowed a gap
the wild ducks patrolling the grass mama papa and nine waddling ducklings who alternate between a confident swagger and animated scurry to parental shelter when too far astray
the chiming grey shrike thrushes sending their musical calls to each other gladdening the hearts of everyone in acoustic range adding their friendly company to garden diggers and verandah sitters with books in hand
the magpie family units patrolling the grounds for prey maturing juveniles wrestling on granite pavements practicing nesting with twigs and twine stolen from the vege patch constantly whining and dining at mums beak
the multi coloured rosellas in flocks of crimson, green and metal blue nipping seed heads from the grass flashing colour into the sky making the landscape a vivid tapestry bell chiming to each other from tree to tree
the twitching turning ever restless honeyeaters constantly on the wing eastern spine bills diving into blossoms with curved needle beaks new hollands darting and diving with gusto at every intruder wattle birds holding all at bay or aggressively chasing them away
the hopping bower birds establishing their flock with growing numbers and inquisitiveness staking their ground atop water bowls and into every ripening fruit they can steal their strong stubby beaks ready to stab and peel
the soaring raptors spiralling aloft on the wind keen eyes of the hunter for anything that moves diving like a deadly missile from heaven above to capture a rodent, a rabbit or unaware dove
Poetry days #09.
All work is my own and subject to copyright. I do not use AI. I do not want AI to use my work.
Just confirming I'm the right bird in the right place Lakeside - check Reed beds - check Tasty aquatic life - check Big grey bird, yellow legs, long neck, spear like beak, white face.
This photo was taken while creating a lakeside accessible walking map for people who use mobility aids. You can view it here: Edwardes Lake Accessible Walk.
Photography days #03. All work is my own. I do not use AI.
Ever watch a kookaburra Sweep in from on high In a perfect arc Geometry made art Beak as an arrowhead Body flat as an arrow Piercing the air Fletched tail as rudder Precision steering A dart to the bullseye Wings not moving a millimetre Purposeful focussed targeted Missile like glide Ever watch a kookaburra?
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