The end may justify the means as long as there is something that justifies the end.

The birds have found something! Howrah Beach, December 2010.

I couldn't decide between these two photos so I have uploaded both, but you will notice that the birds have won pole position!

I assume that the birds have spotted the same thing that appears the be drawing the orcas into the Derwent. Aside from angry Great Whites, you can find around these parts: flathead, whiting, flounder, Australian salmon, barracouta, bream, bastard trumpeter, trout, squid, leatherjacket, mullet, long-finned pike, garfish, silver trevally, jack mackerel and blue grenadier.

I suspect that these birds have spotted a school of bastards that has set their tummies rumbling!

Storms rolling in over Mount Wellington. Howrah Beach, December 2010.

Comments

Roddy said…

Perhaps they were waiting for a whale carcass. Only the birds will ever know.

15 December 2010 at 12:34

Roddy said…

Do you think that death will justify the end?
Perhaps it will only signify the end!
Do you think I will know when it happens?

15 December 2010 at 18:52

smudgeon said…

School of Bastards...isn't that the upcoming feel-good hit of the summer?

16 December 2010 at 08:07

Kris McCracken said…

Roddy, gone now!

Me, do they even have hit records any more? I'm out of the loop in that regard...

17 December 2010 at 10:54

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

There was nothing left. No reason, no conscience, no understanding; even the most rudimentary sense of life or death, good or evil, right or wrong.

Here is a self portrait. I’m calling it Portrait of a lady in a dirty window . Shocking, isn’t it? However, it is apt! Samhain , Nos Galan Gaeaf , Hop-tu-Naa , All Saints , All Hallows , Hallowmas , Hallowe'en or HALLOWEEN . It’s Theme Thursday and we’re talking about the festivals traditionally held at the end of the harvest season. Huh? No wonder Australians have trouble with the concept of HALLOWEEN. For the record, in my thirty-two L O N G years on the planet, I can’t say I’ve ever seen ghosts ‘n goblins, trick ‘n treaters or Michael Myers stalking Tasmania’s streets at the end of October. [That said, I did once see a woman as pale as a ghost turning tricks that looked like Michael Myers in late November one time.] Despite the best efforts of Hollywood, sitcoms, and innumerable companies; it seems Australians are impervious to the [ahem] charms of a corporatized variant of a celebration of the end of the "lighter half" of the year and beginning of the "darke

In dreams begin responsibilities.

A life at sea, that's for me, only I just don't have the BREAD. That's right, Theme Thursday yet again and I post a photo of a yacht dicking about in Bass Strait just off Wynyard. The problem is, I am yet again stuck at work, slogging away, because I knead need the dough . My understanding is that it is the dough that makes the BREAD. And it is the BREAD that buys the yacht. On my salary though, I will be lucky to have enough dough or BREAD for a half dozen dinner rolls. Happy Theme Thursday people, sorry for the rush.

This will hurt me...

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