Most evenings when the weather is suitable, Jim and I eat our evening meal outside on the stone patio. It’s usually a very casual meal cooked quickly on the BBQ with a salad and a bottle of very-cheap-but-good Australian wine (probably Jacobs Creek) to accompany it. In fact we eat most of out meals out here unless it is very hot, raining or the biting flies are too annoying
In the evenings we eat very late so it’s usually just about dusk when we’re ready to sit down and the daytime birds have settled for the evening. We sit quietly eating, talking and waiting for the evening performance.
The last reflections from the setting sun disappear and the deep twilight gloom descends as we munch away quietly and wait.
At last…………………In the words of a poet whom I remember from my youth, I think Robert Browning or maybe his wife Elizabeth…………………..
Sweet, sweet, sweet, Oh Pan!
Piercing sweet by the river!
Blinding sweet, Oh great god Pan!
The sun on the hill forgot to die,
The lilies revived and the dragon fly
Came back to dream on the river.
What I’m referring to is the Superb Lyrebird, the most glorious Australian songster and to my biased mind the best in the world. He has taken up a regular position from which to send out his evening aria, quite high in a tree about 30 meters away from the house and from there he throws out the most glorious, melodious bursts of song. Because it is summer and a lot of other birds are still breeding he contains himself to his own true song with only an occasional bit of mimicry so we are entertained by about three sessions of this wonderful music each lasting about 3 to 5 minutes.
After that and sometimes overlapping come the raucous calls of the local bunch of Kookaburras. Nothing could be so much in contrast but both are beautiful in their individual ways.
The Kookas gather each night to settle for sleep in a family group but the gathering entails a lot of argument about which perch is the chosen one for that night . They are really funny as they call out to each other trying to get the gang to ‘come over to my place’. Eventually they settle together and give their last laugh in unison. Sometimes we hear a distant group calling out a few minutes later as though to say “HaHaHa, we’re the last”.
After this performance if we feel languid we can forget the washing up and wait for the owls and possums to show up but I will leave writing about that to another occasion.
In the evenings we eat very late so it’s usually just about dusk when we’re ready to sit down and the daytime birds have settled for the evening. We sit quietly eating, talking and waiting for the evening performance.
The last reflections from the setting sun disappear and the deep twilight gloom descends as we munch away quietly and wait.
At last…………………In the words of a poet whom I remember from my youth, I think Robert Browning or maybe his wife Elizabeth…………………..
Sweet, sweet, sweet, Oh Pan!
Piercing sweet by the river!
Blinding sweet, Oh great god Pan!
The sun on the hill forgot to die,
The lilies revived and the dragon fly
Came back to dream on the river.
What I’m referring to is the Superb Lyrebird, the most glorious Australian songster and to my biased mind the best in the world. He has taken up a regular position from which to send out his evening aria, quite high in a tree about 30 meters away from the house and from there he throws out the most glorious, melodious bursts of song. Because it is summer and a lot of other birds are still breeding he contains himself to his own true song with only an occasional bit of mimicry so we are entertained by about three sessions of this wonderful music each lasting about 3 to 5 minutes.
After that and sometimes overlapping come the raucous calls of the local bunch of Kookaburras. Nothing could be so much in contrast but both are beautiful in their individual ways.
The Kookas gather each night to settle for sleep in a family group but the gathering entails a lot of argument about which perch is the chosen one for that night . They are really funny as they call out to each other trying to get the gang to ‘come over to my place’. Eventually they settle together and give their last laugh in unison. Sometimes we hear a distant group calling out a few minutes later as though to say “HaHaHa, we’re the last”.
After this performance if we feel languid we can forget the washing up and wait for the owls and possums to show up but I will leave writing about that to another occasion.
