Being spring, my writing has lately been accompanied by frequent visits from the local Australian birdlife, all demanding seed off the balcony outside my study window. A couple of times a day I am visited by the enticing song of some pairs of red rosella parrots, who are mostly pushed out by any golden crested cockatoos always waiting – who are much bigger, raucous, and destructive in their demands. Occasionally a flock of rainbow lorikeets will arrive, feisty enough to fight off a dozen cockatoos.
But today, a red rosella arrived with a seemingly more acceptable eating companion, an Australian Brush Turkey. For some reason, it’s spelt like brush, but pronounced like ‘bush’ – don’t ask me why Aussies have the silent R. This one is a big local boy – sporting a large yellow wattle of the mating season. I believe I know him from chickhood – he survived the perils of having been born out the back of our section, surrounded by many cats. Now he’s back to build his own large compost mound for the females to lay their eggs into. Hence the state of our local gardens, which have provided much of the mulch and leaves he’s carted down there.
Having shared the seeds I put out for them, the big and small birds left happily, leaving meager pickings for the cockatoos now squawking along the railings as I write this.
Sometimes distractions are worth it.