Patrzy jak cielę na malowane wrota

Ahhh, but yesterday wasn’t just about ducks. Once off the bus here on the Lindisfarne/Geilston Bay border, I couldn’t miss this crowd of cockatoos having a cheeky feed by the side of the road. So I took their photo.

Anyone who might be interested in the kind of birds that we have here in Tasmania, I can’t recommend a blog more highly than noted Tasmanian twitcher (and keen photograpoher)Alan Fletcher's blog Birds in Tasmania. The little boy in me would love to say “click on the link and see the lovely pair of tits”, but I would be lying. They’re Pink Robins.

Time for bed now.

Comments

KL said…

You Aussies (or shall I say Tasmanians) are pretty lucky to have such beautiful birds gathering around in cities like that. BTW it was funny to read your reference to UK as mother country :-). I don't think such love exists during Ashes :-)!

11 September 2008 at 06:05

freefalling said…

Pink robins!
I've never seen such a thing.
They're beautiful.
Love their little stick legs.
Thanks for the link to the Tassie Birds - love it.

12 September 2008 at 07:39

If you want to be loved, be lovable.

Henry admires the view.

Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it...

I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral

Zeal, n. A certain nervous disorder afflicting the young and inexperienced. A passion that goeth before a sprawl.

Here I have tried my hand at the homemade sepia-toned photo. I wasn’t happy with the way that the sun had washed out some of the colours in the original, so had a bit of a fiddle because I like the look on Henry’s face, and didn’t want to pass on posting it. I have a tip for those of you burdened with the great, unceasing weight of parenthood. I have a new recipe, in the vein of the quick microwaved chocolate cake . Get this, microwaved potato chips . I gave them a run on Sunday, Henry liked the so much I did it again last night. Tonight, I shall be experimenting with sweet potato. I think that the ground is open for me to exploit opportunities in the swede, turnip, carrot and maybe even explore in the area of pumpkins. Radical, I know. I’m a boundary-pusher by nature. It's pretty simple, take the potato. Slice it thinly (it doesn't have to be too thin, but thin enough). Lay the slices on the microwave plate, whack a bit of salt over the top and nuke the buggers for five minut

This will hurt me...

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