Nature's Place

Shy little fellow.

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The punk rockers of the garden.

Some come for a bath, others for a bite to eat. Little Joey was dancing around the garden, delighting in being alive, in the senses.

A pied magpie comes to the door in the mornings, stands on some box’s looking in. It often lands on the table I have set up to do some work on. Last night I painted a board for the market stall and left it on the table to dry. I told the magpie not to shit on it, and what do you think it did? 

A delightfully colourful day.

© Mark Berkery … Click on those pictures for a closer look … and click again.

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One of the few frogs showing up. Sedge frog, eastern dwarf green tree frog. About an inch long. They like it among the crucifix orchid.

I take the best I can get, without much ado or strain. They come or they don’t. No need to stress it.

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Skink, with a sharp eye on the big looming shadow, me and my camera. Once cornered and they see no danger they might walk onto your hand.

Might. This one on the big yellow bucket. Came out of the hose from the water tank, asleep and rudely awoken, by me. But I hauled him out, or was it her.

And not far away, jumping spider. Her I think. On the fungus covered orange, left to rot on a stick in the garden to provide habitat for a fungus weevil.

The fungus weevil, him and her. Also on a fungus covered orange on a stick. They can live their lives on this orange, plenty of fungus to eat.

Keeping an eye out for what interests her. Big eyes to see all the better with. Ready to jump as and when required, for food or a mate – to get out of his way maybe.

The male, those long front legs. Known to be useful in knocking down the competition in mating and food acquisition. A very competitive creature.

Her, laying into the orange overtaken by fungus now. It’s what they do, some of … And everything comes around again.

Winter is all but over, quicker than another year. The garden is acting like it’s spring, greenery shooting for the sky, some flowers already blooming.

The birds and wallabies come and go but there’s not much insect life yet, nor frogs that eat them. Though there have been rats about throughout the cold time.

Time in the garden, walking and stopping still. Time to sense, to see and smell. Time to fill, with all the forms of sense, and more.

So much sense, no time to kill.

© Mark Berkery … Click on those pictures for a closer look … and click again.

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Rainbow Lorikeet. Licking its lips. Does a bird have lips?

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The eyes have it. That something, spark of being, that looks into existence and says ‘I’ am here.

Who am I?

I am bird, Rainbow Lorrikeet bird. Who are you?

You are looking at me, RLB.

We are friends … :-)

Not always seeing the same …

But always seeing I am. If I just let it be.

I had a dream, of many.

It was a peculiar dream, of many.

In it the dreamer wove a tale of healing so unlikely.

Funny how dreams like this can have a depth, a reality to them.

They are not of the dreamer in this particular existential place, they are of the dreamer in this grander, more real space.

The one being of the particular, a sensation perhaps. The other, a sense of space encompassing it all. What ‘all’ is.

Difficult to grasp at times, I know, but when I stop trying to change things, change happens.

And the rain begins to fall, I hear, outside in the dark of night.

Softly.

© Mark Berkery … Click on those pictures for a closer look … and click again.

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Kingfishers …

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It’s the middle of Autumn here in Australia and the pace is slowing down for some. The insect life or activity has reduced but the birds weren’t built for the sudden falloff.

Birds don’t store energy as fat like wingless creatures do. They wouldn’t be able to fly otherwise, at least not efficiently and survivably – my own new word.

So I’m helping them out for a while, see what happens. And what happens is they show up en masse. The raucous Mynas and Lorrikeets, and the quieter ones too.

But the king and queen of them all has to be the Kookaburras. A pair that come to oversee the melee below, as kings and queens should do.

It allows for perspective, not to attend the fray.

Nor to think about what is beneath.

© Mark Berkery … Click on those pictures for a closer look … and click again.

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A striped marsh frog I think. Very fast to escape attention, as soon as you take your eye of him he’s gone. A regular caller at evenings, already father to a pool of tadpoles.

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Hunter wasp, tracks down the Huntsman spiders and lays an egg on them after paralysing it. Here gathering some mud to seal the nest entrance with.

Kookaburra, always about to observe where other birds play and feed. In case something in the grass is disturbed to movement. Then she’s on it in a flash.

A shy female wallaby, usually settles down to take a little food at the end of the day. We bump into each other at night too, as I go for a walk under the stars.

Grasshopper on zinnia. They’ll eat everything if let. But they are prey to many other creatures in the garden so not much for me to do there.

Yellow zinnia, one of many colours in the garden right now. With more on the way. It’s a simple pleasure to tend the garden.

On the stick by the birdbath, a native noisy mynah shaking off the excess water. On the lookout for any playful, or otherwise, attack.

Another coloured zinnia. There’s many more flowers about but too much for this post.

The young stone curlew. Mum and dad are away, maybe left this one to find it’s own feet. Like we all need to do eventually.

I’ve had the place to myself for a while now, more or less. So I’ve been wandering about the acre or so, tending the flowers and bumping into some of the more obvious visitors and a few permanent residents.

It’s the way it is, if nature is given the space some creature will take up residence. What nature does.

For best effect all I’ve got to do is not think, too much …

© Mark Berkery … Click on those pictures for a closer look … and click again.

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She’s a little beauty. And though small, she does command respect – fear doesn’t help. It would be a different world with more respect about.

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She’s only as thick as a thumb, or a clothes peg. As she investigated under my plant potting table.

Left to her self, with respect, she just went about her business and went on her way. Only when we disrespect, inject our ill nature, does nature reflect it and react adversely.

This is what respect looks like, of a fledgling for a wizened old snake. :-) … Still finding its presence but still enough respect.

As I stepped out through the fly-screen door I instinctively rebounded at the sense of something not quite registered yet, something moved on the ground near my feet. Just as it reacted to my appearance, as form and movement, and presence – the mostly invisible radiance we all have.

A snake, a whip snake I thought … We both maintained composure, remembering presence – all things have it – and carried on. I with my cup of coffee and she in her search for food, shelter, nest site, carried on investigating the various nooks and crannies of the veranda.

The remembering applies to me more than the snake, snakes do it instinctively but we have to re-realise it, presence. Having come into existence with it, to invariably lose it to identity – as a body afraid to die or the fear of death, for instance. Only to find it again, because there’s no other way, in the end.

Anyway, as she moved then so did I, wondering what she was up to, and in a way introducing myself. But she was already introduced, all she cared about really was my presence. That told her there was no danger from me, where we stood. Because I didn’t fear her and so react to her cold confident ways in my space.

Though her presence does instill a certain respect, she is unforgiving of disrespect. No need for fear, in her nature or of her nature. My nature. Not unlike we people, in that respect. For without respect, for situations, people and things, we all wouldn’t last long at all. Nothing tolerates disrespect for long, and respect requires presence.

It’s a long winding road we tread, each to their own, to presence and respect. And everybody’s on it, to one degree or another, to one radiance or vibration or another. It’s the vibe that matters, isn’t it.

Everything has a fundamental presence or vibration. And all we have to do to read it is get back down to our own vibe, or presence.

There it is, in the sensation where no thought or emotion goes.

Read it … as it is, here and now.

No other place or time matters.

Here and now.

© Mark Berkery … Click on those pictures for a closer look … and click again.

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On the tiles on the veranda, at my feet. A perfectly normal looking female blue banded bee, wings working fine. I thought. It’s not uncommon for new born BBB’s to falter at first flight.

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After I gave her a finger to climb on she wandered about until she tried to fit into the nook between my fingers. It seemed she just wanted to go back to sleep.

But not for long. Soon she was exploring again. This time she thought it a good idea to grip my finger between her mandibles and that way go to sleep – how they do it.

But sleep wasn’t on the agenda, not really. So I introduced her to the zinnia I have growing in the garden, and she took to it like a duck to water. No, no, like a bee to a flower.

After she had her fill of the zinnia I introduced her to the butterfly bush and she couldn’t help herself, wandering all about the wonderful scent, tasting the little pots of nectar as she went.

Yum … doesn’t she look satisfied. Just taking a break from her first born encounter with the beautiful nature of the flowers she feeds on, and that went to nourishing her into existence.

And then she’d had enough, time to sleep at last. But not quite getting the knack of it yet, though instinctively she knew to grip something thin enough she could lock onto for the coming night.

Getting there, almost done … Time to sleep, to rest, to rise again in the morning and go to work in the garden and do what she was designed for, intelligently.

Sun fading now, got a good grip on the edge of the butterfly bush leaf. All the better to wake in the morning, close to breakfast and a new day, a new life. New born BBB.

The first blue banded bee born at my new place, that I know of, landed at my feet late the other day. It didn’t take to the air immediately so I gave it a finger to climb on, thinking it might do better from a height.

It didn’t … BBB’s are solitary creatures, not hive minded like the EU honey bee. The biggest difference it makes to me and you, if we were to pick one up, is EU bee’s instinctive tendency to sting, though it will surely die.

The individual EU honey bee, being just a number in a vast hive of like minded bees, is expendable. Meaning the hive doesn’t mind losing it in apparent defense of the realm, to sting and die.

That’s what a EU honey does after it stings. It dies, because the stinger being barbed gets left behind when the bee is swatted away and a gaping wound is made where the stinger was.

It’s a sacrifice the EU honey bee hive easily makes, it’s not an individual bee’s choice. The BBB on the other hand has no hive to fall back on, he or she is alone in this world.

And being alone requires more responsibility for the natural creatures, instinctively. More intelligently responsive, you could say.

There’s no trouble in nature. The natural creatures just get on with being what they are without the need to reflect on it.

The trouble comes when we emotionalise the instinctive and reflect on it so that it becomes something else.

Intelligently responsive or instinctively defensive. Hmmm …

© Mark Berkery … Click on those pictures for a closer look … and click again.

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… at the birdbath.

Nasturtium in the dying light of the day, reflected. As we reflect, on what’s of value perhaps.

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Local wallaby, a frequent visitor to the garden, enjoys a drink of clean water. A little shy still.

Young water dragon at Kate’s place. Included after Kate spotted a younger on here, but I didn’t get a shot.

The zinnia are doing very well lately. Shooting up and presenting many colours and shades for our viewing – sensible – pleasure.

Blue faced honey eater and a noisy myna reflecting on their reflections, or each other, but no animosity, just unassuming self expression.

Drops of water being loosed from her feathers. They dive into the water and often take off very quickly, maybe it’s the vulnerability of being wet through that makes them wary at such times.

All images in this post are taken with a new (for me) camera. Just getting used to it …

Young pied magpie, those great warbling singers of the morning. Mother has been taking them around the place, teaching what she knows.

The birdbath is filled daily with fresh rain water from the tank. I think they know the difference and enjoy that. I know I would.

And the noisy myna, also a mum (or dad) watching over her babies below. Mums all love their babies, you know.

It’s a very popular place at different times of the day. As can be seen by the nature of some of the visitors.

There is often some agitation between the different kinds of birds, but it’s just territorial display, nothing too aggressive.

Nature, different creatures and forms just doing what they do as they go about their daily lives. Birds being birds, bathing.

No ongoing issues, nothing held on to in memory, to be revived for airing another time.

© Mark Berkery … Click on those pictures for a closer look … and click again.

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