“I’m skipping tutorial this
morning,” Sami-brat Junior announced over cornflakes.
“Not a good idea,” I
growled.
“Oh, please! Coyote Cate is
filling in for our regular toot.” Having met Coyote Cate briefly, I relented,
adding the caveat, “Don’t make it a habit, rabbit.”
So this brisk, sparkling March
morn saw us marching down the track to Shepherd’s Lookout by 08:30 on the
lookout for birds. We checked the scrubby area along the fence to the left of
the track – usually good for a little gem or two – and saw five Double-barred
Finches. A bit further along, a pair of European Gold Finches on a thistle. We
could hear Stubble Quail calling nearby. Then Samantha walked smack bang into a
humongous orb-weaver spider’s web. What a mess; long, strong, sticky
strands polluted with dead insects all over her. Took twenty minutes to
decontaminate the fuming brat. That done, we sat on a comfortable rock while I
poured Earl Grey, and administered a pawful of Smarties, and peace returned to
the valley of the Murrumbidgee.
Birds were a bit slow in
appearing so we paused to watch eight immature Crimson Rosellas chattering about
in a White Cypress Pine looking like a bunch of garrulous street kids in grunge.
Almost immediately we noticed what appeared to be a mature Yellow Rosella
Platycercus elgans flaveous perched on the periphery of the flock. I
asked Sam to dig out the Pizzey guide and read out the field marks for this
species...oh, alright...sub-species while I scrutinised it through binoculars
and everything checked checked out. Don’t believe it was a hybrid. Been watching
Yellow Rosellas in the Wagga district since I was seven. Could have been an
aviary escapee but, for what it’s worth, I’ve never seen Yellow Rosellas in
aviaries anywhere.
John
Layton
Holt.
