The night before I left for Melbourne, It drizzled, a Scotch
mist obscured the view and dusk sent the birds into one
last baby-feeding frenzy. A family of Galahs was making a
racket directly in front of the house.
Nothing unusual you might think, except that galahs
normally keep a respectable distance . . . they will silently
sneak into the almond tree to steal the nuts while you are
weeding under it but this was different.
Here they were flying in again and again and making
I watched as the runt of the litter blundered around in the dense,
wet undergrowth in my rose bed. The parents kept calling but
not feeding it, so, out I trotted with camera of course . . .
it trustingly made a beeline for me at my approach. I picked
it up, unsuccessfully tried to make it fly, and sat it in the
cherry tree hoping the parents would take it from there . . .
it promptly went to sleep.
Later I saw it had flopped back to the ground and was heading
into the dripping weeds again. I was in a bit of a quandary,
with rain and darkness setting in, this was no place for a
fledgeling to spend the night. My morning it would have made
a feast for a cat or a snack for a fox.
Out I trotted again and it once more made a beeline for me
and clambered onto my shoe . . .
All well and good, but what now. He was hungry and
as yet unable to feed himself, his first flight was not a
great success and I was leaving in the morning . . .
when in doubt, 'look to the hills, whence cometh my salvation'
so, piratically perched on my shoulder, we crossed the paddock to
my dd's* house where grandson lit up like a Christmas tree,
a large cage and food materialised and young Biggles was
* dd = darling daughter
All photos featuring me, by courtesy of obliging husband.
My thanks to all of you, my fellow bloggers who left encouraging
messages for my sister and wished me well on my pilgrimage.
A big thank you to the hosts of all three memes, it is good to be
back in the fold again.