Wing bird had her wing splinted when she was younger...
When her wing's folded down against her body, the upper part sits flat, but the long feathers at the end stick up like sail... ha ha.
Thus... Wing bird....
It doesn't give her any difficulty, and the other birds don't mind....
Especially her many admirers, ha ha.
The flock is made up, predominantly, of young males, so she's never short of attention, ha ha.
She's decided that she likes my idea - I put the food down for her, and then I go away...
"What a nice man... He's so considerate of my needs - He leaves the food, and then leaves, himself...", ha ha.
I'd like to be out on the street at the right time, one evening, to watch the wrens crossing..
I'd call it a "bucket list" item, but every time I say "bucket list" to myself all I can think of is the wide variety of colours available in 9 litre buckets, at Bunnings... ha ha.
I can see myself, like some kind of train spotter, counting the number of red buckets, and orange buckets, and "Be still my beating heart! A Blue bucket!", ha ha.
That's not how you go about making a bucket list, is it? Oh well, no worries... ha ha.
I can see a sweeping chicken wire arch over the road, a spacious tube so the wrens can cross in safety, inside it...
And I bet they'd climb on it and hop over the top of it, too... ha ha.
The old man bird turned up...
He's growing a crest feather...
The whole time I've known him he's been bald in that department, so we've learnt to get along with him puffing up his head feathers when he wants to express himself...
Now there's a half length yellow feather that pops up at the appropriate moment...
It's a very strange sight... ha ha.
His eye's alright, he's alright, things are alright... ha ha.
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