Sweet Wayfaring

Aren't our birds wonderful? This a Gang-gang cockatoo, spotted at Mount Hotham. Musing: From Gang-gang Cockatoos by Peter Skrzynecki "Calling to each other in soft creaky voices through long shadows and out of sight -- the red heads and crests of feathery blossoms carried along by waves of morning light."

After a week at the beach we headed off on a 2,000 km road tour hugging the coastline for a while, then turning inland to green pastures, up Australia's highest mountains (not very high), through the dry country to the west and eventually swinging our way back home. I love the diversity of our landscape -- and as it does for many Australians brings to mind My Country by Dorothea Mackellar, a poem she wrote 100 years ago in England when she was feeling homesick, contrasting the countryside around her with the landscape of home. Please click the link to read the full poem ... I will be selecting images that match it, in the order of our tour, not the poem itself. By the way, sparrows are an import from England that thrive here. Musing: From My Country by Dorothea Mackellar "I love a sunburnt country, A land of sweeping plains, Of ragged mountain ranges, Of droughts and flooding rains."

Musing: From The Cormorant in its Element by Amy Clampitt "Plummeting waterward, big black feet splayed for a landing gear, slim head turning and turning."

I like seagulls. Musing: From Jonathan Livingston Seagull by Richard Bach "Don't believe what your eyes are telling you. All they show is limitation. Look with your understanding, find out what you already know, and you'll see the way to fly."

Having finished the circuit at the zoo we settled down for a nice lunch at the cafe. This chirpy little blue wren came close to our table while his brown wife Jenny jumped playfully on the grass. Nesting swallows swooped in an out of the rafters. Musing: The Blue Wrens and the Butcher Bird by Judith Wright "Sweet and small the blue wren whistles to his gentle hen, "The creek is full, the day is gold, the tale of love is never told. Fear not, my love, nor fly away, for safe, safe in the blackthorn-tree we shall build our nest today. Trust to me, oh trust to me." Cobwebs they gather and dry grass, greeting each other as they pass up to the nest and down again, the blue wren and the brown wren. They seek and carry far and near, down the bank and up the hill, until that crystal note they hear that strikes them dumb and holds them still. Great glorious passion of a voice-- sure all that hear it must rejoice. But in the thorn-bush silent hide the nest-builders side by side. ...

This little one stayed still long enough for me to focus.

The birds flitting about at the zoo fascinated me as much as the exotic animals. I tried to get a good close shot when one jumped up on the Rhino's fence but I was a bit slow as usual but rather liked the shot anyway. Musing: By Emily Dickinson "She sights a Bird - she chuckles - She flattens - then she crawls - She runs without the look of feet - Her eyes increase to Balls - Her Jaws stir - twitching - hungry - Her Teeth can hardly stand - She leaps, but Robin leaped the first - Ah, Pussy, of the Sand, The Hopes so juicy ripening - You almost bathed your Tongue - When Bliss disclosed a hundred Toes - And fled with every one -"

Is this a picture of the duck or the water? Photo: Duck pond, Botanical Gardens, Sydney Musing: The Duck by Ogden Nash "Behold the duck. It does not cluck. A cluck it lacks. It quacks. It is specially fond Of a puddle or pond. When it dines or sups, It bottoms ups."

Photo: Seagull, Forster Musing: From Jonathan Livingstone Seagull by Richard Bach "Most gulls don’t bother to learn more than the simplest facts of flight - how to get from shore to food and back again. For most gulls, it is not flying that matters, but eating."

Noisy Miners were flitting about in the she-oaks beside the river. Photo: Noisy Miner, Lane Cove National Park This native bird is often confused with the introduced Common Myna which has similar facial markings but has mostly brown plumage unlike the grey of the Noisy Miner.

Like Robert Frost ( yesterday’s poem ) I also saw a small bird near the wood pile. Photo: Bird on gate in pine forest near Black Springs Musing: My Papa’s Walz by Theodore Roethke “The whiskey on your breath Could make a small boy dizzy; But I hung on like death: Such waltzing was not easy. We romped until the pans Slid from the kitchen shelf; My mother's countenance Could not unfrown itself. The hand that held my wrist Was battered on one knuckle; At every step you missed My right ear scraped a buckle. You beat time on my head With a palm caked hard by dirt, Then waltzed me off to bed Still clinging to your shirt.”

The Kookaburras at the River Park are wily creatures – waiting for their moment to swoop on the tasty barbequed sausages of unsuspecting campers. They then proceed to “kill” the sausage before gobbling it down. Photo: Laughing Kookaburra, Lane Cove River Park During our brief sojourn in the park we attended evening information sessions run by the National Parks and Wildlife team and learnt about the two calls the Kookaburras make as they are settling down for the night. We saw by torch light where they sleep high in the trees. And in the torch light we also saw brush tail possums , ring tail possums, bandicoots and spiders. Another night we looked at the stars – the few that could be seen through the bright lights of the city and the sheen of a full moon. We sighed for the sparkle of the Milky Way glistening in the darker night sky of the mountains – time to go home again.

Birds abound at the Lane Cove River campsite, including these Rainbow Lorikeets feeding greedily on the Old Man Banksia flowers. Lorikeets, an unfrequent visitor to my Blue Mountains garden, are common in the city. Photo: Rainbow Lorikeet, Lane Cove River Park

Fish and chips sitting on the sea wall – our farewell feast. Photo: Pelicans, Kiama Musing: This famous limerick was written in 1910 by Dixon Lanier Marritt, a newspaper editor. “A wonderful bird is the pelican, His mouth can hold more than his belly can, He can hold in his beak, Enough food for a week! I'm damned if I know how the hell he can!”

Photo: Superb Fairy Wren ( Malurus cyaneus) Musing: From the lyrics of Walk the Line by Johnny Cash "Mm-mm-mm-mm… I keep a close watch on this heart of mine. I keep my eyes wide open all the time. I keep the ends out for the tie that binds. Because you’re mine, I walk the line."

The local birds -- we don't see these at home. Photo: Seagulls, Kiama