Have finished a coloured pencil drawing inspired by looking up through the poinciana tree at a hazy sun filtered through green leaves and grey branches. I was lying on the chaise lounge beside the greenies aviary, looked up and was bewitched. Of course I didn't/couldn't capture what I saw. I didn't try and draw the leaves. My hazy sun and blue sky were poor representations yet despite my inability to record what was there, the drawing does have a certain something and it pleases me to look at it. I am a weekend artist, a tyro, an amateur, a doodler and have no illusions (although grandiose yet silly dreams) about my talent - yet I bet I feel the same frustration (and the same satisfaction) that an O'Keefe or Vermeer or Blake felt when they viewed their efforts. It is a funny mixture. Complete duds I throw away or paint over. It hurts to look at them, light years from what I was trying to say. But others, like the one previously described, have something in them despite their obvious faults.

We had an artist's day 10 days ago. I had nothing to work on as the tree/sky drawing was finished (it was the project for the previous week). I doodled a fat face and a fat body and now I've got a fat Buddha type figure with his fat harem trousered legs and fat sandled feet sitting on air with an equally fat cat sitting beside him. But he has lovely long fingered hands draped over his fat knees. Have no idea what he should sit on. Have less idea of what to do with the background. I look at the drawing, which I like so far, and it seems as though it would fit as an illustration in a children's book. So not art but an illustration? Maxfield Parrish was an illustrator as was Norman Rockwell. I'd say their art far surpasses much of what is labeled art today. But that's an old argument that I won't go into again. I suppose it's because this fellow looks like a character in some story. Perhaps I need to make up a story about him so that I'll know what to put in the background. I haven't touched it in a couple of days because I'm stuck.

Hot today. Supposed to be 36C. Saps the energy. I've got a fan sitting on a chair otherwise I couldn't be in here. The room is small and the computer generates heat (which makes this room nice in winter). I feel sorry for the horses. Balthazar sweats more than any horse I've ever met. In the afternoon his red coat is streaked with white salt crystals down the back, rump and along the neck. Despite this and being sun bleached, his coat is irridescent in places so I know the Natural Horse diet agrees with him. Pagan rarely sweats. He's also on the diet (Natural Horse Care by Pat Coleby) and it agrees with him. He's dappled everywhere and has stopped rubbing his tail. But he is lame. Seedy toe. Again. Dakota was very lame but he's on the mend. Treating both of them with salt water and hydrogen peroxide syringed into the holes in their hooves. Both lame on the offside front.

The Great Romance between Felicity and Suki is over. If I believed in any great love affair, it was theirs. I never saw so devoted a couple. Alas, Suki started flirting with a shy and slim little girl, even bringing her to meet Felicity. Felicity wasn't impressed. One day I watched as the new couple flew off leaving Felicity behind. She waited a few minutes then took off after them. She hadn't a hope of catching them if they didn't want to be caught. She's not that strong a flier. He stayed away for a few days then came back by himself. He was hungry and knew that food would be out in the afternoon. She didn't attack him or try and drive him away but she wasn't happy to see him either. Or maybe she was and was just too heartbroken to show it. She's eating well but I think it would be naive to assume her feelings aren't hurt. Scaly breasted lorikeets are flock birds. They are social and very tactile in their relationships. They play hard and love hard. I used to watch, smiling, as Suki and Felicity pressed into one another like they were trying to become one large green bird. Impatient and doting in turns. Both heads in the coop cup slurping up mix and one would feel the other was taking too much space so would give a nip. The next moment one would be regurgitating food for the other - the highest token of love and affection. In the bird world. I wouldn't like it if Richard regurgitated for me no matter how much he said it proved his undying love!

Since the breakup Felicity is not tolerated on the greenie aviary. Byron and Augusta attack her feet through the mesh. I feed her on Marvin's aviary now. Big change there too. Terry, a juvenile galah, is in care for coccidiosis and anorexia. Noticed him hanging around by himself, saw his poopy bottom and managed to herd him into the galah aviary where we caught him. Had him in a cocky cage but he wasn't happy. Eating well, yes, but making such a mess and turning himself inside out climbing up and around everything. He even got his wing caught through the bars with his contortions. This morning I moved him into Marvin's aviary and put Marvin in the cocky cage. Marvin isn't impressed but he'll cope. It's only temporary. I've tried to make it worth his while by getting him out more often. Even brought him inside for awhile which he enjoyed.

Walking the whippets yesterday and saw the death scene of the tadpoles in the ditch down the road. The ditch suckers the local frogs into laying their eggs. It looks like it would be permanent. The water is somewhat deep, it covers 20 feet or so, it's protected from direct sunlight. Why wouldn't it make a good nursery for little frogs? But it's an illusion. Unless it keeps raining the water dries up. The water lasts long enough for tadpoles to grow but not to turn into froglets. We crested the hill and saw half a dozen magpies and crows standing at the ditch. They flew off as we approached but by the muddy water and the remaining tadpoles crowded into small pockets of water it was obvious they were being picked off by the birds. A kindness really. They would die quickly rather than slowly and painfully. I rescued all those tadpoles from the swale in the peach paddock and took them to the dam. Whether they survived or became food for predators I don't know. Nature is a tough mother.

Dogs to continue to improve. Both got up from their beds yesterday when we had a visitor. Previously they couldn't be bothered. Notice tiny weight gains. Ribs not quite so sharp as before. Lights in their eyes brighter. Radar even thought he might go for a walk with us in the afternoon. At least he looked interested.

It's just after six. Coffee and cigarette to hand but am torn because the birds, wild and domestic, are starting to call/sing/squawk and I should start the catering. Three days ago I released Felicity. Suki, her beloved (and his name also means beloved) was released months ago. He returned in July, left again and then came back. The bond was so strong that I coaxed him into the aviary for a night of love. The next day I thought, what if? Felicity has tried to fly in the aviary but I was unsure whether she could gain height. Thought if I let her out we'd eventually catch her if she couldn't fly. That first flight was long and low but at the end, with great effort, she did gain a little height and flew into lower branches of the bahinia tree. Since then she's been in the veggie garden silky oak and yesterday in the poinciana where she came down and ate and ate and ate. Suki joined her and also ate. Then they tried to attack poor Byron through the mesh. The fighting and screaming was fierce. Byron gave up and plopped to the ground (he will never fly and with his deformed beak, even if he could fly he couldn't be released). So it's all good. It won't take long before Felicity is as strong a flier as any wild greenie. The first few days of release are always the most dangerous as they might get unwanted attention from a passing hawk - and we've got lots of passing hawks. Just have to find a friend for Byron who looks very lonely in that big aviary.

Meditation. Read an article on it in a yoga magazine and was reassured. Felt that I wasn't really getting any further along with it, that I must be especially ditzy because of thinking so much and reaching a certain level *sometimes* and not progressing any further. But it's not just me. It's normal. The mind might be recalled from thinking thousands of times before it can be retrained.

A few days ago I was having a good meditation, sort of, but I reached the place where I come to a halt. I'm focussed and at a level that is not quite daily consciousness, perhaps Kindy Meditation, and then I'm stuck. I don't think I'm thinking but perhaps I'm thinking because I'm aware of the 'barrier'. I feel focussed but also a little unfocussed as though my eyes are slightly crossed and the image is not quite sharp. And I'm antsy. 'Pushing through' isn't something that I associate with meditation as it is a state of relaxation but there's that feeling of something to be pushed *through*. And the unsettled antsy feeling finally halts my attempt and I come out, slightly frustrated, which is a feeling very conducive to meditation! Another problem I'm encountering is the difficulty in staying with it for more than 10 minutes. Set a goal of 15 minutes and made it to 13. Seems impossible that people meditate for an hour or longer. I'm aiming for twenty.

During our morning coffee on the deck yesterday we heard a woman screaming, screaming as though she was being attacked. Ran over to the dam paddock to see and it was someone, not Kylie, yelling at one of the dogs! I would've bet good money that she was being murdered. Don't know what the dog did but it was obviously a very bad dog. Brought a memory back of living in Port Douglas when I heard a woman screaming in the night, one of those still airless nights when sound carries. I did nothing. Neither did anyone else. Found later that she'd been beaten by her husband and hospitalized. Still feel guilty. Should've found a phone box and rung the police at least.

Viewing the world through the runny eyes of a cold. Frustrating how the cold defeats me. I do believe in the power of seeing oneself healthy and well yet come undone at the first sign of a sore throat. It's as though I give up believing I am in charge of my own well-being, throw up my hands and succumb to this little packet of energy designed for miserableness. Haven't figured out how to circumvent it so blow and cough in a welter of phlegm and handkerchiefs.

Stayed up to watch The Matrix just so that I could see the ending, which has implications far deeper than a computer program. It is as though it is a message sent from our deepest knowing if we only choose to see. I mean, we all know that we are but varying arrangements of energy packets. Quantum physics has sifted down to the common man, but we don't act as if it is true. That's the bugger. We choose to believe in this world of Maya - and perhaps that's as it should be. Why else come unless you're going to play?

Speaking of playing. I love my birds. I am so grateful to them. My heart swells with joy when I am with them. And these are some of the reasons:
1) Dimitri: He is learning to put the plastic ring in the bowl. I can see the light dawning and it is with a happy heart that I witness the increased bravery because it's all fun! No force, no fear, no failing.
2) Tony: Is eating and eating and eating. He looks better, he's in better feather. When he comes out he wants to give and get some affection before he has a fly around. I am very proud of him. He is so tiny yet his being is enormous.
3) Jake: I accept that Jake is a cranky poop in the morning. If he is on the ground I don't put his food in. Yesterday I couldn't put his food in even though he was on the branch as he had a go and tried to bite. That's all right. I've got plenty of time. Later he is pleasant and I suspect he even nurtures a sneaking affection for these odd people who carry him around on a branch crying 'Flying Bird' in funny voices while swooping him high and low.
4) Suki: Suki has chosen to come out voluntarily to forage for tasty blossoms or to hide under my hair in the evening or just to sit quietly on my shoulder and preen my neck. She is a brave and funny little soul who is growing tail feathers!
5) Marvin: Marvin is cock of the walk. He marches everywhere in unquestioning self-importance. The other galahs give him a wide berth due to his bad temper. He guards me sometimes, chasing Fern and Grevillea, who only want to say hello, away. We've been weeding bindi-eyes for weeks. The galahs, wild and domestic, love them. Marvin 'helps' by standing on the plant I'm trying to get out and tugging. He only wants to be the first to have the fresh picked weed and even stoops to raiding the bowl of plucked bindi-eyes that is bound for the verandah birds. Have to keep switching from plant to plant, working each one free a little at a time so that Marvin gets to help and I actually get some weeding done without hurting his feelings. Marvin can be very demanding of affection, standing on my foot when he wants to be picked up, cuddling in close to my chest while I preen his head. He makes little clucking whistling noises and closes his eyes while tilting his head back. When he's feeling playful he attacks my shoe and flips himself upside down. I see the wild galahs play like this. I can give him a poinciana seed to play with - he's too excited to be trusted with fingers - and he screams and chews and boxes with his feet. I can pick him up by a handful of tail feathers and he doesn't care. He screams in delight. If I right him he'll flip himself over again - but only when he's in this playful mood. I would never try and force him to play. He has to initiate it.

Suki the Beloved

We have a new family member; Suki (Japanese for beloved), a baby scaly breasted lorikeet. He came into work on Monday. Unfortunately he's a runner. Fortunately someone found him. He was the most terrified lorikeet I've ever seen, even more terrified than adults that have been brought in. I caught him in a hand towel to feed him and transfer him to a cage and he got me. Boy, did he bite and hang on. Took all my willpower not to shake him off or try and pry him loose. When I tried to feed him with a syringe he would go backwards so far he was hanging beneath the perch. He'd scream as soon as someone came in the room even with the cage mostly covered (had to keep him in the kennel room as if he is infected with PBFD he can't share the same air space with Tony).

N forgot to ring a carer and then when a carer did come on Tuesday to pick up a possum N forgot Suki was there. Lucky for me. I was a little concerned about his behaviour as he would hang upside down from the cage top then turn his body through his legs as though his leg joints were double jointed. He was such a pretzel. I'd never seen any bird do that and wondered if there was something neurological going on as well as the possible PBFD (PBFD signs in greenies can also be poor nutrition. When I had a chance to feel his keel bone he was rather thin).

By Wednesday I decided he would come home with me. Today is Saturday. He has gone from this wild-eyed screaming bundle of terror to a tame, semi-cuddly little friend. He fell asleep in my lap yesterday half wrapped in my sweatshirt. Today I got him out twice and although when we are outside I am nervous about him taking a sudden flying leap and don't keep him out long, inside the house he is quite content to sit on my arm. I've put him on coccivet as he wasn't eating very well; half a ml here, a quarter of a ml there. Not nearly enough. Today the medication finally kicked in and he is eating 2 to 4 mls at a time.

He is a typical greenie, that bright spring green with blue green feathering (wonder if it would glow under a black light) on the crown of his head. His breast is flecked with yellow feathers. The first few days he was still dropping flight feathers (all his tail feathers were already missing) but that has stopped. He has a dark brown beak and very brown, very baby eyes.

At night he lives in the spare room. During the day he hangs on the deck. We've made a little igloo type house out of cardboard for him which he uses. Eventually, when Felicity goes to P & Gs for flight training, and if he grows his feathers back, he can move in with Byron. In the reading I've done the jury seems to be out whether juvenile sufferers of PBFD are carriers when they are adult. Also, it appears that once a lorikeet has reached adulthood they don't seem to succumb to the virus.

I've written to the bird click blog as I am stuck with Dimitri and the retrieve. I inadvertently click just as he's picked up the peg and flung it out of the bowl and getting him to return the peg to the bowl just isn’t working. When he touches it he always seems to push it further away.