Skip to main content

(My) Photo of the day



I will admit that today's photograph is not the most technically impressive, however I could not resist posting it. I can't say that I've ever seen four magpies all chatting happily together before (three maybe, but not four), so I was impressed enough to snap away.

Henry and I took a long stroll today along the river this afternoon and found ourselves taking a well-earned rest watching the seagulls squabble at ANZAC Park, the home ground of the mighty Lindisfarne Two Blues football club. Now, I took a few shots of their splendid grandstand, and a couple more of Henry booting torpedo punts through the middle of the sticks from 60-70 metres out, but they couldn't compete with the four magpies.

Now, you have to understand that here in Tasmania, we have a sub-species of the typical Australian magpie. Not only is the Tasmanian magpie slightly smaller than its mainland counterparts, it has a far more advanced inquisitive nature. Unlike their dim, obnoxious Collingwood brethren that some may be familiar with, Tasmanian magpies are very complex and highly intelligent birds. Now photographs being photographs, I can't share with you their impressive vocal talents, but the Internet being the Internet, I can link to a tiny .wav file that does showcase some of their work.

Comments

Neva said…
A very nice shot...love the fence!!!I had no idea about magpies and the different varieties....
freefalling said…
One of the best sounds in the world.

What do you think of "Making History"?
Dina said…
I loved hearing the magpies.
Kris McCracken said…
They do sound good. We have a constant refrain of magpies and banded lapwings (plovers) around our place. This is trumped by hundreds of cockatoos at certain points of the year.

I'm enjoying 'Making History'. It's an enjoyable romp.

Popular posts from this blog

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