Wagtail

Crow by river

What I saw at the river

Today I cycled down to the big river. It has been several months since I went there, and I discovered that all the gulls were gone. I forgot they don't hang around there in the summer. They turn up in autumn, and stay for the winter.

I did not spend as much time there as I'd planned, because while I was cycling along the riverbank I remembered that a friend had moved to somewhere near that area, and maybe he was at home and I could pay him a visit? I texted him, and he answered immediately, saying he'd cycle down to meet me. He brought his dog. I think the dog remembered me, although I hadn't seen her since she wasn't much more than a puppy. She got all excited when she saw me. Or it could just be that I smell good to dogs when I'm all hot and sweaty after a bicycle ride.


We went back to his (very nice) new place for a drink, and after an hour or so I cycled home again along the river. On the way I took some pictures, but not very many.

One picture I took was of a cormorant flying. It was doing its best imitation of a cartoon. I must say the hornbill does it better, but still, that was a pretty good effort. The dangling foot is especially good.


I also saw a lot of crows. They were behaving in the way crows do, flying around and shouting scornfully, except for this one. I think this one is an outcast.


It was quietly fossicking in the grass, looking normal, but when it turned the other way . . .


I saw that it had a mutant white feather.

How odd. I guess that was why the other crows didn't want to hang around with it. Poor, lonely white-feathered crow.

Before I left the riverside I saw the amazing umbrella bird, hanging from a tree.


This is a baby umbrella bird. When it is older it will open, trundle down to the river, and drift out to sea (unless it is captured and sold into slavery beforehand, that is).

I know this because I have seen it before.

Exploding duck

...waving goodbye.

Hymns

Here are two cormorants singing hymns to a heron in an attempt to convert him. (Cormorants are terribly annoying like that.) The heron, a devout Buddhist, is not impressed.

Big river

Today I cycled to the big river to see if I could get any pictures of the cormorants, herons and egrets that hang out there. I got a lot of pictures, and I got very hot. (The bits I missed with the sunscreen are now very visible.)

Unfortunately most of the pictures aren't very good. Most of the birds have moved further up the river to places where it is hard to get close enough for good pictures. The only halfway decent pictures I got were these two, of a flower amongst the weeds alongside the river, and of a dragonfly.

The dragonfly picture isn't all that good, actually, but I'm just pleased to have got it at all. Dragonflies tend not to sit still for very long, and I had to be quick.





One of the reasons I went to the big river today is that I did not sleep well last night. This is because I finished classes for the semester on Tuesday, and without work, I become lazy. I spent yesterday sitting around congratulating myself on finishing another semester without falling out of my tree completely, and didn't do anything much. This meant that when bedtime came I was not tired. Also, it was very hot, so I spent the night tossing and turning and sweating and cursing to myself until The Man got mad and kicked me out of bed, more or less.

That wasn't very nice, so I decided that it would not happen again tonight. I determined to wear myself out by doing something physical.

I think I have succeeded in wearing myself out, but I am not so sure about the heat thing. I think I am going to feel even hotter tonight. In fact, I suspect I am going to spend the night lying awake and cursing the glowing, patchy spots on my shoulders and legs.

The rare and remarkable Odd Shoefish

One-legged motherhood

Health update, mystery bird, and kites

My operation was a resounding anticlimax. On Saturday I went back to the doctor to get the dressing changed, which I had anticipated being a gruesome affair involving pus and blood and so on. But it turned out to mean taking off the big taped bandage thingy that made me look importantly operated-upon and replacing it with something quite a lot smaller than a Band Aid. Apparently nothing exciting had happened under there, so the bandage thing wasn't necessary any more.

Actually that was the first time I'd seen the result of the operation, and contrary to my expectations (and I suppose proving that I chose the right doctor for the job) it looks nothing like an operation. Instead it looks like I've been unwisely picking at a pimple.

This makes me feel a bit pathetic about all the fuss I've made, but really, the procedure took half an hour, so I expected there to be something more to show for it. (Especially since when he said he'd 'whip it off' I'd expected it to take a couple of minutes.) I suppose the half hour was the doctor carefully covering up the evidence. Most of that time was spent putting in seven or eight tiny stitches, only one of which is now visible. Sometimes the thread went 'ping' as he was doing this stitching operation, which made me wonder if he was inserting a tiny violin, of a size suitable for the kind of angel that dances on the head of a pin.

I suppose I should not be disappointed that it looks so undramatic. I guess the doctor assumed that I did not want to frighten my students. And after all, it is my face.

So I'm not really ungrateful. I'm just disappointed at the lack of evidence of my fortitude. I'll be meeting a friend tomorrow and had been hoping to impress her. Having to point it out first will be a little deflating.

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Today I went to the big river to play with my new camera. I did not have much luck, as I left it too late and was on the wrong side of the river, facing the sun, which was going down already. Also, there were too many people (today was a public holiday) so the birds were keeping well away from the riverbanks. However, I did get some very bad shots of a mystery bird (some kind of small heron?) which flew overhead, stopped briefly, and then wisely flew away again. If it had stayed around it would have risked getting tangled in some fishing line.

I get annoyed when people fish where the birds congregate, and especially where cormorants are diving. It worries me. There was one cormorant diving today right where a guy was fishing. Often he was throwing his line right where the bird had just gone down, and I found it incredibly stressful to watch. He was on the other side of the river, otherwise I might have said something.

I'd been playing with the camera settings when the mystery bird appeared and disappeared suddenly, and was not quick enough to get ready. These are the best shots I got. The first one is particularly unfocused, but at least it shows the markings on the wings.




Also on the other side of the river, a couple of people were flying kites. (I kept hoping the kite strings would snag the fisherman.) Kites are hard to photograph, I discovered. When these were lower they were right in front of the sun, and when they were high they were VERY high. So these aren't great pictures, either.

Maybe I'll do better next time.

The missing keys

On Wednesday down at the little river, a crow was in the water. It was behaving rather oddly.

"What are you looking for?" I asked.


"My keys," said the crow. "They were RIGHT HERE, or at least around here somewhere. I'm SURE of it."


"Oh," I said.

"I will not give up until I find them because I know I am not mistaken," said the crow. "I LEFT THEM RIGHT HERE SOMEWHERE AND DON'T TELL ME TO STOP BECAUSE I KNOW THEY ARE HERE AND IF I LOOK FOR LONG ENOUGH I WILL FIND THEM."

"Oh," I said, again. I didn't know what else to say. The crow sounded almost dangerously obsessive.


"Found them!" said the crow triumphantly.


"That doesn't look like keys to me," I said.


"They're stuck to this leaf," explained the crow.


He took his find over to a nearby rock and put it down.


He gargled.


"Watch very carefully," he said. "I'm going to wash the leaf off, and you will be a witness to the magical moment when my keys appear from underneath."


He picked up the clump carefully.


Then he dipped it in the river.


The leaf was washed away.


"Eh? This isn't my keys!" he said.


"Quite tasty, though," he added.


He went off to resume his hunt for the keys.

"All right, that wasn't them after all," he said. "BUT I KNOW THEY ARE AROUND HERE SOMEWHERE!"


He didn't seem to mind getting into quite deep water.


"I MIGHT have dropped them out here," he said. "I flew over here earlier today."


After a while another crow came along to help.


A gull came and asked them what they were looking for.


"Keys," said the first crow, shortly.

"Oh," said the gull. "I don't suppose you want this, then."

"Well, actually – " said the crow, but it was too late. The gull swallowed.


Another gull came came to see what was going on.

"Aren't you going to help?" asked the crows.


"No," said the gulls. "We'd rather watch."


It looked like it was going to be one of those stories that never end, so I went to work.

New technique

Yesterday Mum took us to a quiet spot on the river so we could study Quackery some more.


I'm getting really good at it. I had secretly perfected a new technique, which I call the 'Dead Duck Float.'

I showed mum.


Mum said to stop being silly, but I know she was impressed.


When she went off to her ballet lesson, I overheard her telling her friend about me.


"That's my kid," I heard her say. "Always up to something. She'll be a great Quack Scientist some day."

Her friend looked over at us.


"The one on the rock?" he asked.

(That's how I know they were talking about me.)


I stood up and waved.

"Hi Mum!" I shouted.


"I thought you said they were practicing," said Mum's friend. "Not very obedient, is she?"

He looked disapproving.


I quickly stuck my head back in the water. I didn't want to embarrass my mum.


Silly old man. He's just jealous because all his kids turned out so ordinary.