Early morning and the brush wattlebirds are defending their banksia tree
against all trespassers, while the lewins and brown honeyeaters are
happily sharing their callistemon with a couple of brown thornbills.
To the west a storm is brewing and the morning sun on the forest across
creekline contrasts nicely with the evil looking clouds. The horses in
the nearby paddocks are nervous and gallop around nosily while the dog
slinks up to the loft.
The storm doesn?t amount to much [a bit like a winter?s storm in Perth]
the rain passes and the mist boils over Kondilla Falls. The pale headed
rosellas and king parrots are soon back feeding on the bird seed, along
with the red browed firetails and peaceful doves. The rainbow lorikeets
[bullies that they are] push their way in but don?t stay as they don?t
feel comfortable on the ground. The Magpies swoop through from time to
time, just to keep the parrots on their toes, while the satin bowerbirds
lurk under the orange tree.
Up on a power pole, a pair of blue-faced honeyeaters are fending off a
pack of mickies. They are perched under the cross-bar and standing back
to back to a reasonable job at fending off the local larrikins. The
mickies mount a raid on the banksia tree and are quickly repulsed.
However, this was just a feint and they mob the blue-faced honeyeaters
who have been lulled into a false sense of security.
Further along the powerlines, the crested pigeons are lined up in
military precision [facing their RSM] and a striated pardalote is
mounting a digital broadcast.
Down on the top dam, the coots and moorhens are doing their normal
thing, the grebes are flapping along the lake, and the swamphens are
sneaking chokos off the fence. A pair of hares are sharing the morning
grass with the maned ducks. The bee-eaters and woodswallows are
patrolling the local skies, while a flycatcher restlessly grinds his
scissors in a tree.
Down in the lower lake, the white-faced herons are sharing the fish with
a little black cormorant. The resident black ducks are hosting a small
flock of wandering whistling cousins who have blown in for the w/e. The
wanderers look very debonair with their white plumes and chestnut
breasts discretely showing above the waterline. They duck under the
surface and bob up more smoothly than the average coot.
The golden whistlers add a spot of colour to the forest, while the
currawongs, grey strike thrushes and yellow-tailed black cockatoos
provide the background atmosphere. The sulphur crested cockatoos like
to chime in, but they lack both the graceful call and elegant flight of
their black cousins.
The forest is full of whipbirds, white browed scrub wrens and eastern
yellow robins. There is even the odd group of long-billed scrub wrens,
silvereyes and variegated fairy wrens.
A brown cuckoo dove is calling in the distance, and first an emerald
ground dove and then a bush turkey fly up from the track. A flock of
top-knot pigeons shoot through in one direction while a flock of
figbirds fly the other way. Meanwhile a wompoo sits regally on its
perch.
A white headed pigeon flies purposefully up the road while a fan-tailed
cuckoo flits silently from branch to branch, and a white throated
treecreeper reads its fortunes in the bark. A forest kingfisher mounts
watch from a powerline while a black shouldered kite is hunting the
short-nosed brown rats that feed on the grass in the paddocks.
It must be time to head back for lunch and to see how the Lions fared
previous evening.
Laurie.
.
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