Sometimes I feel the soft wingtip of a King Parrot brush my shoulder as it flies by. At other times it’s a rush of air on the cheek as the bird announces its presence with a close fly by; an air kiss. It could happen when I’m in the garden or a paddock; an invitation to come back to the house. We whistle to each other at other times. In the morning, the King Parrots call to attract attention. If I don’t respond, the friendliest ones sit on the kitchen window ledges, staring inside in order to make eye contact, imploring attention. Is communicating with birds a sign of madness? If so, it’s been a long delusional spell for me, one that began in childhood when I called up grey thrushes in the bush. Slowly, they would come closer and closer, calling and responding, wondering why that alluring potential mate was not to be seen.
Here are photos of some regular garden visitors.
Cockatoos outlive humans. When tamed, they have great talking skills.
Smaller birds tend to be elusive.
The gentle King Parrots are usually moved aside by other birds wanting to sample seeds. The lurid Rainbow Lorikeets make up for their smaller size with aggression; Sulphur Crested Cockatoos even more so, usually displacing all other birds with their swooping and threatening strutting. I was amazed to see this rare sight of a cockatoo sharing with a couple of King Parrots.
When returning from an overseas trip, the first morning back home is a delight of birdsong, a symphony of contrasting sounds from melodious to jarring. Fortunately most is the former. Recognising the different calls is one of the privileges of life in the bush.
The presence of birds mean that many fruit and vegetable crops must be protected. Fruit trees have to netted or else the fruit is devoured, an interesting contrast to Europe.
Galahs have a reputation for drunken and stupid behaviour, which has generated local Australian expressions such as, “You silly galah’, ‘he’s a galah’.
Another regular visitor, the wedge-tailed eagle is described here.