14 March.  Copied from journal.  

Lionel still missing - forever more I suspect.  He would've returned if he was able - or alive.  Miss him.  Grieve for him.  Or would if I knew.  Went through this before when he went missing.  But he returned after a day.  Nothing I can do.  I loved him, tried to give him the best life, best opportunities, health and strength to best fit him for life in the wild.  Unfortunately because of his attachment to me he kept himself aloof from other galahs, except in 'warning call' emergency when he would launch himself in flight and beat retreat with the others.  He would've done that no matter where he was so what happened?  Why can't he come home?

Matisse - a changed cat.  Haven't had to clean up a spray or puddle of urine for 3 days now.  He's sitting beside the notebook as I write.  The prozac doesn't make him dopey or sluggish, it just takes that edge off his OCD.  When I clean the kitty boxes and there are 3, sometimes 4 wet spots, I am overjoyed - well, maybe not overjoyed - but happy.  Means it's okay.

He looks me in the eye again - not for long but at least he can (he's quietly purring, has shifted position so his head is very near mine).  BTW, he weighs 7kg or 15.4 lbs.  Also, have changed my mind about CRF - too fat and glossy.

Don't know if I'm repeating myself but - since Cornelius flew out the opening during the remains of Cyclone Oswald when the screen blew in, Tony has stopped speaking.  He makes budgie noises but no longer says Pretty Bird, The Regurgitator, Tony, etc.  I miss his little tinny tiny voice.

Have been working on a pastel drawing inspired in part by a photo in Baroque Horse magazine.  Was beavering away at it then got stuck.  Ground to a halt actually.  I think I ran out of puff because I was copying.  Tried to view it strictly as an exercise - maybe I became unstuck because of having trouble duplicating it.  At any rate, looking at it, and looking at it and finally,while on the yoga mat and seeing it from an oblique angle, I saw what I could do so it's on again.  I like it but don't love it - yet.  I live in hope.

Waiting for Lee (the farrier).  Have rugged the horses because the biting flies are so bad.  Spray their legs with insect repellant once daily to give them some relief.  Have never seen them this bad.  Something to do with the rain coming so late in the season?

Speaking of which - the ants feel we'll get much more rain.  Until the earth moving equipment, which came to repair the flood damaged road, flattened them, the ants were building tall spires, towers and fat levees.  There's a cyclone in the far north which they expect to follow the path of Sandy and head east then south well away from us.  The ants suspect otherwise.

We lost a little bird today.  Cornelius, the rescue budgerigar from the surgery, flew through the wide open space of a blown in screen and has been lost forever.  I am devastated.  Tomorrow would've marked his fourth anniversary with us.  He came int the surgery having been found on the side of the road with a broken wing.  He was a very young bird.  MCC taped the wing and I took him home.  The girl who brought him in wanted to adopt him but had sent her mother who obviously was not in favour of a new family member.  She had no cage, only a cardboard box, no food, no dishes, no nothing. I forgot what I told her but dissuaded her from taking him.   Oh, I remember now.  I didn't lie.  Cornelius had coccidiosis.  He was in shock and weak and ill.  If he'd gone home with them I very much doubt he would've survived.  And that's what I told them, albeit in a more diplomatic way.

But what difference does it make when a cyclone called Oswald lumbers down the east coast bringing tornadoes, wind gusts of well over 100kph and metres of rain.  One of those gusts broke the stays holding one of the screened panels on the verandah.  We were in the living room, heard this loud bang and crash and leapt up to investigate.  But it was far too late.  Cornelius had already gone. Happily Tachimedes, the cockatiel, and Tony, the other budgie were still there.  Dimitir, because she cannot fly was never in any danger of escaping.  But Corny wasn't so lucky.  I don't think it was a burst for freedom. I think it was flight borne of fear.  That gust was like a mini-tornado.  It beat against the house with huge amorphous grey fists.  We had no warning.  The wind had been gusting all day.  The rain had fallen all day.  How were we to know this gust had iron in it? 

I keep seeing Cornie's dark intelligent eye.  He wasn't hand tame.  He wasn't a cuddly bird.   But he knew who he was and where he was.  He knew me and he thought deep bird thoughts.  His little yellow head was not a container of 'birdbrains', easily discounted, easily forgotten.  He was a birdperson, small and, in the ways of the world, insignificant but I knew him and insignificant he was not. 

It has been an awful day.  We searched for him, this bright spot of yellow in a dark grey and green world, but he was not to be seen.  He is either already dead, which is what I wish for him after the fantasy daydream of him landing on my shoulder and staying there while I walked through the house to the verandah, or he is enduring wet, cold and hungry conditions with no hope of surcease.   I visualize rescue but hope for a quick and painless end.  Salud Cornelius. Your tiny yellow and green life was important and will be missed.