Willie Wagtail
The Willie Wagtail has the sweetest call but when agitated, the chitter chatter is intense and no mistaking the mood. It makes its presence known in one way or the other. So it is not surprising, in some indigenous cultures, the Willie Wagtail is considered to eavesdrop and if one talks ill of those who have passed, the Willie Wagtail will pass on the gossip to them. It is an interesting concept because where there are people, the fearless tiny dynamite of a bird, is omnipresent and a powerful deterrent for those who believe in the symbolism of this bird.
We have all come across people like this in the work place. Those who come across as colleagues but when there is a restructure, the workplace becomes messy and with those most vulnerable to losing their position, being closest to the ear of management.
Being sick for several weeks with a lingering low grade chest infection I’ve been home for a few weeks and with time to reflect leisurely in the mornings. My reflections took me back to two significant office place scenarios and I recalled them, initially, with some sadness and then a feeling of elation.
I lost my position (but not job) when newly single. With two little children in childcare, it meant two hours of my day wasted in travel, extra expense for petrol and longer hours in childcare against a background of lowered salary. It was a nightmare time of stress and multiple demands and the lady who did not have children got a job closer to her home. It all seemed so unfair. But looking back, had that not happened, I would be working in an administrative job, nine to five, and wondering was there more to life. That scenario propelled me into higher studies and a significant career change.
The second was a job I had for over a decade. I woke each morning with a sense of adventure and looked forward to each day. Apparently, I lost it to a technicality and without a doubt, the whispering of a colleague in management’s ear. I didn’t get time to regret it because the very next day I got a better paying job with conditions beyond what I had hoped for. I would never had thought of accepting this job because why go to the unknown if you are happy doing what you were doing.
Yesterday was the first day I felt well and I realised how happy I am, where I am in life, and largely due to people who thought they got a better deal. Little do they know!
During my morning reflection it occurred to me, blessings in life come in disguise. So, I thought I’d whisper this in your ear.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
There was just one other car in the car park when I got there early morning. As I walked along the coastal walk, I found it belonged to a young fisherman wetting a line in the distance.
The waters here are generally calm but on this day there was a swell coming through. Hopefully he got what he came for. I know I did.
The birds were not awake yet so I spent some time looking at the path I walked, metaphorically speaking too. I found one can find colour in the most unexpected bland places.
A gumnut caught my eye. It rolled down an embankment and came to rest against a small edge of a big rock. A cm here or there would have made a difference to where it landed and perhaps, never seen by me. Much like chance encounters.
I love dragonflies. I mean, what’s not to love about them. They have wings of sheer shimmering lace and yet they are long distance fliers. I find strength in that.
Soon my walk was filled with sound. The little Silvereye were everywhere.
And if you ever want to see kookaburra, Meelup Beach is the place. They were at least a dozen birds sitting on low branches or foraging in the leafy carpet.
Then there was this one who decided to do a full dive into the water and came out looking like a rag! 
High in a nearby tree I heard the plaintive cry of a young eagle as it rose up to stand in the nest.
Magnificent bird.
I was glad I got here early. I had the opportunity to enjoy silence before the laughter of families. Although I confess, I enjoyed both equally.
I stood at the window and there it was. Flitting around under the patio. It feeds off the insects in the cobwebs, and flies around with ‘crumbs’ stuck to his face. I watched it practice fantail, unsuccessfully, and smiled like a parent while gazing at it with affection.
The tiny silvereye was young and bold, sitting exposed and facing the sun.
The Willy Wagtail chick was shiny as a new penny …
looking intently into the distance with wisdom in beady eyes.
The young crested pigeon was gorgeous with ruffled feathers.
What delighted me the most was the juvenile grey fantail.
This little one had the sweetest call, an overture that filled the canopy it sat underneath.
Then a moment of quiet, except for my heartbeat.
The young wattle bird found a perch here and there on banksia cones. The distinctive metallic call silenced, or perhaps not yet developed.
This is the first time I’ve seen a Western spinebill and try as I may, I could not get a better pic but I know I’ll be back next year for it.
One of my favourite proverbs is “When one helps another, both are stronger”. I believe it is a German proverb. The picture above illustrates this. I’m told these birds bead together, wing to wing, to appear larger to raptors. If birds help each other, have humans lost the art and science of helping? I don’t believe so. The following story gives me hope.
Poised on the grassy bank.
Or feeding
The blues shimmer into indigo and purple when they move.
They are usually shy but also protective. Their warning call is a fearsome screech.
This was a rare sighting of a chick this spring.
I know the Welcome Swallows love sitting on the rails, facing the sun. Sometimes they get used to my presence and accommodate my curiosity. I’ve learned to extend the lens only when they look away, as movement is always a signal for flight.
To my surprise I found some Swallows on the ground near my feet. 
Fear set aside, they were busy with nest building, focused on task.
A slight movement from the corner of my eye caught my attention, a fairy blue wren darting and hopping among the foliage. No matter how many times I see them, the flash of blue always makes my heart skip a beat. 
The male wren stood still for a moment. So perfect. It looked like an enamelled ornament, with blues upon blues found in sky and sea.
In contrast, the female’s beauty, is subtle. Perhaps this is nature’s intention.
While the male distracts she tends to her family, almost invisible, among debris.
I got to Bunbury just moments before the sun slipped into the Indian Ocean. A moment of pause for me and others too it would seem.
This morning I was up early and headed to Big Swamp where the bottlebrush is blooming.
Among the reedy grass I caught a glimpse of a swamp hen chick, not yet purple, blue and red.
The Welcome Swallow chick was a delightful ball of fluffy feathers. It is so new, it didn’t know fear of me.
There were chicks every where making a silent call for food.
A young New Holland honeyeater obliged with a moment of stillness.
Then came the Splendid Blue Fairy Wren, in his gorgeous feathers of blue.
After a frantic game of chase, he rested with his mate.
On the other side of the boardwalk, the big cormorant ignored my presence. I’ve not seen this type of cormorant here before. It sat on the branch for the whole of two hours I was there. Probably still there!
Her garden is a delight. I stop to take a picture here and there.
The ornamental almond tree was frosted white.
The ornamental peach tree bloomed elsewhere.
There were bulbs bejewelled with bees.
I found this in one corner, my camera sees what she hasn’t in a long time. “How on earth did that bloom there?”, she asks me, and we both laugh at her surprise. 
I loved the white flowers in another corner and asked her what they were. She tells me, they are English May, a cutting from her grandmother’s garden. It’s something she cherishes. Not hard to see why.
She is seated on a plastic chair, crutches to the side, water hose in hand dousing dirt in front of her with about 15 silver eye keeping her company. They dig into the damp soil for tasty morsels. She giggles like a little girl at their antics.
A Shared Space 
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