Friday, August 8, 2008

Mopoke

Last night, 1.30am, our regular summer visitor, the Mopoke (so he
calls himself) otherwise known as the Boobook owl or Ninox
novaeseelandiae
, saw fit to grace our farm again with his much loved
presence. He is rather early this year as it in not quite mid-winter
yet. Once, a couple of years after the big bushfires, when my Mt.Lofy
garden was starting to regenerate, one of his cousins brought four
little owlets to show me. There they were at dusk sitting on the rose
arch neatly in a row..Although my heart stood still, I went for my
camera and managed one fuzzy shot before total darkness.

4 comments:

  1. I understand how you feel when you see a Mopoke. (I like that name it suits it so well.) I love it so much when I see one by chance in my bush garden. It is like a present.

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  2. I just popped over from Willow Manor and have quite enjoyed looking around. Interesting about the Mopoke...we've owls around here and on occasion have spotted them....one evening sitting on our birdbath. I'll stop by again...have a lovely weekend...Dee Dee

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  3. Arija, what a sight to behold! and in the roses too. a memory of this would stay a picture in your mind forever..You were in the right spot at the right time..

    I love owls!!

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  4. Titania,
    maybe someday I may see your owly garden when we make the effor to go so far north, this little old owl has had it's wings clipped and driving in short stages takes a long time away from the farm. To spend one week in Yeppoon, took two weeks of deriving.

    Dee Dee,
    welcome, hubby just put in a founfain, I hope they like it as a perch.

    Gwen,
    that memory has lighted my life for more than 20 years and will probably last till the end of my days along with one of India at 18 riding George, A gray mare, along steep firetracks on Mt.Lofty at sunset accompanied by our german shepher. The slanting light turned the trees red gold and lighting up her long flyin hair and golden blouse. The third one is of bare handedly picking up a Peregrine Falcon who had strayed into our sun-room. He did not struggle and, when I set him free, flew into a tree, turned around, took a long look at me in thanks , turned again and left. Those are the moments that make life worth while.

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