Thursday

  • the wind in the red box gums out my window today.
  • “nah, crows have too much only black with no other colours”. “And not with those eyes!” “No way.” My daughter on why a crow can’t be trusted.
  • a pair of gang gangs in a bare birch tree. Crimson rosellas, if you feed them, will crawl all over you. Eastern rosellas, no matter what you do, will never come near. Rainbow lorikeets? Well, don’t be surprised to wake up one morning and find them on the pillow wondering where their wholemeal toast and honey is. Gang gangs though, not shy, not interested, not concerned. Grandly, sublimely, indifferent.

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