With that in mind you may want to start with this tongue-in-cheek post about Australian birds. It’s designed to take your mind off the festive season for a few minutes and hopefully raise a smile too.
The Problem With Aussie Birds
Did you know that I write a blog schedule so I stay focused on writing the type of informative articles the blogging gurus recommend?
I have to, because otherwise my mind flits from one subject to another as randomly as a butterfly in a cottage garden.
But the first rule of blogging is pick a topic and stick to it.
I try my best to concentrate on helping you improve your life and live your dream, so today I was going to provide you with a post today called “Avoiding Holiday Madness”.
But if you want to avoid something, one effective way is just to ignore it completely. So in the end, that’s what I decided to do here.
Forget the holiday season, cast aside all your stresses and worries for a moment, and take five minutes to bury your head in the sand here. You might even learn something about Australian birds too, or just have a laugh at my expense.
Oh, and in case you’re not of British, Kiwi or Australian stock, please note that there’s a silly pun intended because to us lot ‘birds’ also means girls, chicks or ladies as well as our feathered friends.
Crime Watch Australia
I fully expect there will be a mugshot of me in the next Neighbourhood Watch Newsletter. And if there is, I will place the blame squarely on your shoulders.
I’ve complained before about the noisy birds here in Australia, specifically the cawing crows which seem to have swooped straight out of a Hitchcock movie, and the kookaburras, the national bird famed for its “laughing” call which I find more reminiscent of a demented cackle.
So raucous and vile is the kookaburra’s call that I wanted to share it with you, dear reader.
I was keen for you to experience what life is like here in Australia where we are regularly woken at 4, 5 or at the latest 6am by the kookaburra’s fearful racket, and in this way share a little of our lives Down Under.
So this morning at 5am, as I lay in bed willing sleep to return to me, hearing a kookaburra “laugh” nearby spurred me to stumble out of bed, pull on some ancient, threadbare clothes, grab my camera and venture out into the neighborhood bleary-eyed and shock-haired.
It wasn’t a completely selfless mission as there are two things I love in life nearly as much as chocolate and travel ~ those sworn enemies cats and birds. So while I hunted the not-so-elusive kookaburra I also captured on camera some of the other local avian and feline life.
I must have looked a fright and my strange behavior attracted some funny looks from a dog-lover who was innocently walking her pesky pooch. But when I told her what I was up to she kindly directed me to a small park at the end of a short road called Bond Court.
I lingered there at length, eyes peeled for kookaburras, killing time by peering over peoples’ fences, taking photos of birds in their trees and fantasizing about buying a house there so when people ask for my address I can honestly answer:
“It’s Bond, 007 Bond Court.”
I like to think that the endless cacophony of Australian birds is retaliation for the fact that we Europeans have covered their once pristine breeding grounds with ugly suburban brick houses, manicured lawns and swimming pools.
But, amidst these suburban boxes, one house stood out. Its garden was an overgrown shambles, its trees held four bird nesting boxes and, by standing on tiptoe and peering over the tall wooden fence, I was surprised, and a bit jealous, to see they even had chickens.
Naturally, the place was a focal point for birding activity and soon a kookaburra arrived, being chased aggressively by three other birds, and snatching me rudely out of my idle reverie.
Sadly, this winged harassment had left the kookaburra in no mood for laughing. He did attempt a sad chuckle at one stage, but the recording I got came out so quietly that if you heard it you’d immediately write me off as a misguided madwoman with a tendency for wild exaggeration.
I hung around looking shifty for as long as possible hoping he would let rip, before being chased back home by suspicious stares flung at me from various neighbors.
Several hours and cups of tea later, I realized that there’s probably a kookaburra call on the Internet already. Sure enough, after searching Google for roughly three seconds I came upon a professional recording, so all my efforts were rather pointless.
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