A few nights back, the old man bird was sleeping in the tree when the young possum showed a distinct lack of judgement by climbing the tree... and waking him up...
His response to the real or perceived intrusion was to yell at her... ha ha...
Being early, I went out to see if I could see anything...
Shining a torch into that tree with the intention of seeing anything is like shining a torch into an open can of thick pea soup, with the intention of seeing the bottom of the can... ha ha...
There were rustling branches indicating the presence of some form of life, but there was nobody to be seen so I shone the torch up into the tree...
And was greeted with one of the few cockatoo words that I'm fairly confident I understand - "Good"... ha ha.
High praise indeed, for my efforts... I think...unless of course he was commenting on the possum exiting the tree, that is, ha ha...
I don't think he regrets choosing to call here home...
In the morning, after the younger birds have squabbled and jostled their way through breakfast, and left for the the day, he comes and sits on the bridge where he can be easily seen from the house...
"I'm just a poor old bird and the younger birds have come and they've eaten everything, and what shall become of me? Oh, woe is me... A poor old hungry bird..."... ha ha...
I would like to think that our friendship will outlast the Winter...
I would like to think that the clock isn't already ticking, that his span is now being measured in days.
I would like to think that he is more robust than I fear he is, or isn't...
I would like a lot of things, but life is not always that kind...
So we must make the best of these days that we have, live, because life is for living, and when he is gone, remember him, fondly...
🙂
