More Birds …
Welcome Swallow. Pretty little bird.
Noisy Mynah. Noisy bigger bird.
Young crow, made it through the winter, eater of other little things. The Welcome Swallows were harassing it up on the lamp post.
Rainbow Lorikeet at the bird bath. Caught between movements, lots of doing around the stillness.
Butcherbird, hooked beak for tearing at stuff. More doing. Gotta keep doing til we’re done.
But do we have to do so much, let’s go for a swim with the Pelican brothers and sisters.
Duck, not doing much at all, just getting away from the guy with the camera. Gotta do something …
Welcome Swallow – what’s that down there? Hmmm, we’ll never know.
Young Magpie, getting less jumpy at my back door. Say hello Maggie …
An unexpected visitor. Owl, I’m fairly sure. An uncommon for me night time shot, by torchlight – I’m not equipped for distance night work. She didn’t see me behind the light.
… or nothing much happening.
Winter is just breaking into spring here in Brisbane. Those that have survived are the strongest or the luckiest of their kind. Not that our winters are harsh, but everywhere is itself, not somewhere else.
And with nothing much happening nothing much happens, just survival, which is instinctive anyway. No effort.
It’s when we make an effort that more effort is needed, to do the more that happens when something is made to happen.
The more we do, the more happens, the more we have to do.
Until the realisation dawns, all doing gets is more doing.
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What nonsense is this my lord. Shall we put it out of its misery?
Hmmm, I don’t know Sir Gawain. It might not be as crazy as it sounds.
© Mark Berkery … Click on those pictures for a closer look …
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Welcome …
Welcome Swallow. Welcome the spring after a long cold – relatively speaking – winter.
Early morning and the days activity has only just begun.
And curious too, wondering ‘what is this attention directed at me …’
Victoria Point jetty before sunrise, where the Welcome Swallow lives out the winter.
Sun rise …
Welcome swallow, so called as it welcomes in the spring down south of Australia. So it probably migrates north from there for the warmer winter in Queensland and up into the Northern Territory.
It’s a native bird so it knows its way around. Considered to be lucky as it brings the warmer weather with it after winter, not that people from the northern hemisphere would consider our winter cold. But cold it gets …
In the common psyche they are also associated with hope, renewal and protection. The power of suggestion and belief is strong. But there is a power in the presence of these little creatures. The quiet beauty of birds.
They build nests out of mud and grass or other suitable material, in all the nooks and crannies of the pier at Victoria Point. Can be seen in any daylight tracking and catching food on the wing. And the cyclones and king tides don’t get them.
Great little survivors.
But not to worry, ‘I can fly away at the first sign of trouble.’
No trouble here though. Just a quiet time for the little ones to gather themselves for the coming days work.
Ready or not … Sun is rising and it’s time to spread those wings.
Ok, not just yet …
Hello little one …
Ready …
Steady …
Go …
Hahaha …
© Mark Berkery … Click on those pictures for a closer look …
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Cold Cold Night …
Was a bracing cold night on the way to and from the grey metal letterbox I rarely check except by torchlight.
My shadow firmly outlined under the bright moon, not quite full, as I walked the long dusty driveway, careful not to abandon my footfall to the uneven stone studded surface.
Stars faded in a bright night sky, a jet plane blinking red and white as it passed above, its distant engines moaning faintly, suggestive of other times, other places.
Blank faces the other side of glass, no names, no life.
Just a grey memory now.
Time passes.
Time’s gone.
© Mark Berkery … Click on those pictures for a closer look …
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Winter Visitor
A shy bird, this solitary kookaburra. Only visits close when I am inside for some time, to take some of the food meant for the butcher-birds.
Otherwise s/he can be seen through the kitchen window around the wider garden diving from high to the undergrowth.
Searching, following the tell-tale signs of the unlucky creatures too small and slow to evade such deadly attention.
Survival is the name of the game. We all play it, refining our ways as we go.
And then … clearly.
© Mark Berkery … Click on those pictures for a closer look …
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To Winter …
A new frog for my little garden. See the red, on its inside rear thing. I found it near the makeshift frog-pond – a tub of rainwater with various attachments to make it homely, to a from, or other small aquatic creatures.
Time enough for a few shots. Aiming for max presented surface in focus, with emphasis on the eyes and face. Always single frame shots, no stacking and no photoshop desired.
Bather at the bird-bath. A wet gathering this day, in between the rains. Looking raggedy, but they dry out nicely.
Move over guys and girls … They came, they saw and ate, and had a bath, before taking to the air and off into the wilds again.
Rainbow Lorikeet, they don’t stop for long so you have to be quick, quick enough.
One of them will always be keeping an eye out for danger, especially from the eagles way up in the sky. And the alarm rings out …
At first I thought it was a native wasp. But close up I’m not sure. I’m am sure it doesn’t mind though.
Naming and categorising is not in their nature, nor mine – with my memory for such things.
Gecko, just a youngster, possibly washed down from the roof in yesterday’s rains. It poured down for a while.
Dangerously exposed, near where the butcher-birds come to feed. But it survived a whole day and lived to tell … Lucky thing.
… you wouldn’t believe it, our winter, if you’re from one of those cold countries in the north. It’s more like an English springtime.
Mildly raining, on and off, flowers still growing, slowly. But still the garden is alive with the comings and goings of creatures.
And when the sun shines you realise how blessed we are, with such a congenial climate and engaging wildlife.
Lucky, you could say. Lucky wherever I am, whoever …
I just have to acknowledge it.
Sense to sensation.
Hmmm …
© Mark Berkery … Click on those pictures for a closer look …
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Little Man
This is how he likes to spend a little time close to Kate, relaxed.
Trying out the other chair, smelling the flowers no doubt.
A stern look. Now what did I do?
Did I drive him up the walls, maybe.
A few feet from the back door. Just saying hello.
And posing for a few shots.
The wall he was driven up.
Looking at you …
Looking …
As I stepped out into the garden and there he was. Little Man, Kate’s friendly dragon, lingering, watching.
In a flurry of action he jumped up onto the back of the chair, his favourite spot where he can see afar, and waits to see who I am, what I’m about in his garden.
Friend or foe, leaning to friend, as I toss him a bit of my food. He was waiting for it, we have met before. And he remembers.
These short encounters map a not insignificant tributary in a world of experience, for the little man.
© Mark Berkery … Click on those pictures for a closer look …
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Birds
The Laughing Kookaburra. Usually seen in a family group, who knows what’s happened to the rest of them. S/he sits on the post in the garden, surveying the landscape and lets me take a few pictures. With winter coming I have some food ready for them, just enough to keep going. We’ll see … Proud thing.
The Butcher Bird, a youngster. Comes with mum and dad who sing their melodious song, and so I give them a bite to eat. It’s always a pleasure to engage with them, to say hello. Everyone communicating in their way. They come and they go without attachment.
Eastern Curlew. Crazy Curlew. Well, they do give that impression at times but nothing in the wild is crazy. That epithet is rightly reserved for Man, describing an unnatural condition on the way out and then a season to pass through on the way home again. It’s all quite natural, for Man.
Curlew again, because I like it so much. They have no self-consciousness, just do what they do and move on, to do what they do. Driven by instinct, especially for food and shelter now that winter is coming. But wherever there is engagement with the wild life there is a communication, in some sense.
House Martins, or Swifts, they make their nests under the jetty at Victoria Point. Too fast for an in flight shot and the only time they stop still is when the wind is up. And so it was, a howling wind made captive subjects. Captured by nature, their own nature. Aren’t we all … Until we’re not.
Now what does that mean … But anyway, little darlings, aren’t they.
Honey eater, female I think. They life a bit of fruit too.
The one that got away, the lost picture. A pelican in flight overhead. Just got the one shot, not bad I think. Let’s see what the new season brings.
Now that summer is over and the supply of food is diminishing the wildlife is getting hungry, not just the birds.
Wallabies, rats, iguanas, everything is feeling the change of season and what it means when you live a wild life.
On the edge, hunger not too sharp yet, competition not so fierce. Though the wildlife do it differently.
Nobody holds on to the past. Whatever is done is done and gone. Every day is a new day.
They have no ‘second’ nature to trouble them. No remembrance of facts interpreted.
Just life as it is here and now.
The wild life.
© Mark Berkery … Click on those pictures for a closer look …
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Spidery Ways
At the edge of the verandah where it was relatively dry, for spidery business, a big huntsman sat immobile, in observation.
In a flurry of spidery action, legs and fangs whipped to instinctive focus, an unfortunate one treading, became a spidery meal.
The rain kept up and another refugee, wolf spidery mum and her yet to hatch spiderlings, came in out of the wet.
And so you know I’m not making it up, a batch of hatched spiderlings on another mum’s back, hiding. How she looks after them.
From behind, she wasn’t stopping still for long, gotta get the little ones to safety, in a ball, carried by a thread.
And from the front, what’s this, a springtail maybe, at home in the wet. But too small to eat, lucky creature, springtail.
It’s been raining a lot lately and at times the ground moves with the life forms traveling on the wet.
Refugees, just some of nature’s creatures seeking respite from the deluge.
And what is death to one is life to another.
Such are the ways.
© Mark Berkery … Click on those pictures for a closer look …
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Kate’s Friendly Fiend
Little Man … is his name. He’s a real poser when relaxed, and a fine looking friend.
He’s a friendly looking fellow too, there’s the beginning of a smile. Not a sign of aggression, just a boldness of presence.
With a bit of red to show he’s proud and unafraid. Willing to stand up and stand out, when needs be.
And he can see with both eyes, 360′. Head held high the better to see afar. Calms the wildness of the wild.
An unrelenting gaze, ever watchful, never too comfortable. Ready for action.
He’s a wild thing after all, though he may smile. He survives in the garden, a wild place to him, and home enough. Enough of a home, for a dragon.
And when he’s really hungry he comes to Kate for a bite. And if she forgets he’ll remind her with a nibble. He’s a friendly fiend after all.
No malice here, and intelligence enough not to cross the bounds, when he knows them. He’s evolving, after all.
He’s a youngster still, learning, to survive in Kate’s garden. Means his instinct is tempered by experience. He learns …
So he needs teaching. And who better than Kate, to nurture this Little Man on his way to doing his best, against the pressures of ‘Civilization’.
What does he see? Could it be he keeps an eye on his sub-domain, to protect himself, and his friend?
Keeping an eye out for snakes or other danger, or boon, that would threaten or support his survival. Looking past the flowers in the way.
And so he looks after Kate, in his way. Though he thinks she deserves a nibble when he’s too hungry, just to remind her.
Who’s that up above, is it an eagle, a tree snake, or …? No, it’s super Kate, with a morsel to nourish and educate him. It’s all give and take.
And who is that reflected in his eye, never mind. It’s good to have a Little Man guarding the place, in the land of snakes. And good to have a friend in nature … uncivilized, but friendly in his way.
Kate is a friend, who has a friend.
Kate thinks her friend is a bit of a fiend.
Because her friend likes to nibble Kate’s toes.
And Kate is afraid her friendly fiend will eat her toes.
By mistake maybe, thinking her toes would make a good meal.
I don’t think her friend is so fiendish, but not just friendly either.
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He came one day and got fed, so he came again, and got fed, and so …
He became a friend, because of self interest, and survival. Same thing really.
But a dragon is a dragon, fiendishly cunning in his will to survive, tempered …
By the will to survive in a new situation. Not dragon to dragon, or other wild creature.
But dragon to Kate, who would feed him, if he’s nice. And so, being a dragon …
A dragon he must be, but tempered, by Kate who feeds him, as long as he’s nice.
So nice he will be, though still a dragon, a nice dragon.
Instead of biting Kate’s toes and trying to eat them.
He nibbles a toe … he’s hungry …
Just to let you know.
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There’s a lesson in every encounter, you know.
And all you have to do is the hardest, let go.
Of what you feel, and think you know.
There it is, there you go.
Nothing to show.
© Mark Berkery … Click on those pictures for a closer look …
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Nature's Place 
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