Sometimes, without any exterior cause that I can see, I feel myself slide inexorably into a foul mood. Foul meaning easily angered, simmering resentment and frustration bubbling under the surface. Think of the breath, stay in the moment, bring back the present. Yes, it works to a degree and I'm a little better but it started me thinking. Yes, there are extenuating circumstances. Nidji, my stepsons rainbow lorikeet escaped day before yesterday when Algernon spooked him and the door was open a crack while I removed the food. It never should have happened. I never should have had the door open but I'd done it hundreds of time, the opening wouldn't have been more than 2 or 3 inches - but there you go. He escaped and hasn't returned. Instead he calls from ever widening circles around the property. Pablo calls and calls. He's very unhappy. But Nidji won't come back. It is unbelievable. Wild birds will return the next day to the aviary looking for food which we have placed on top. But Nidji who's been in captivity for 4 or 5 years, hasn't returned. He's flying like a champion. He's covered alot of ground so must be handling the take-offs and landings just fine. There is a huge very 'landable' silky oak tree and a beautiful poinciana, perfect for hiding in, right next to, even shading the aviary. But no, he lingers on the periphery, whistling.
I suppose another reason I've been cranky (besides Nidji and lack of sleep) is the distance I feel from the spiritual world. I feel enmeshed in materialistic thoughts and actions. When I try and pray, to get in touch with the eternal it is like looking into a mirror and seeing only my face on a two-dimensional surface. Small-mindedness.
Much later. R came in and hovered, looking over my shoulder which in the mood I was in I found irritating. Also claustrophobic. I leapt up and went outside. Best thing for me as I've been working on the latest sketch and watering the fernery. My mood has improved. If Nidji doesn't return, he doesn't return. There are enough trees in blossom to feed him. He has a beacon, in Pablo's constant calling, so that he doesn't get lost and food hanging, in plain sight, on the outside of the aviary. I find it odd when other released birds have returned for a time for supplement feeding, that Nidji doesn't. He's been well cared for, never captured or hurt or medicated. He's known only kindness and experienced a huge improvement on his previous situation (cage, solo). I don't even want to capture him, I just want to make sure he's got enough to eat and drink. But it is out of my hands.
May 6, Thursday. Nidji returned for food on Tuesday. R rang me at work. I've been a happy puppy ever since. Okay, I'm a little worried now as the birds went a little wild with alarm calls (hawk calls) and I couldn't find him outside. Assume he's just gone 'to ground' until the danger is over. The hawk has been hanging around for 30 minutes or so. Cruising this neck of the woods looking for food. A couple of years ago there were a couple of goshawks, one grey, one brown, who had the temerity to land on top of the galah aviary looking for an easy meal. The galahs went nuts with fear. Made such a racket we knew immediately what was happening. We'd go out and try and drive them off but they'd only fly to the top of a nearby tree and wait. We had to out-wait them. They were so regular and so tenacious R even talked of shooting them. Thankfully the mice population increased and they looked elsewhere for food. Not that R would've shot them. He was venting frustration. He will shoot dying birds, rats and brown snakes but with reluctance.
Yesterday and today, after a long absence, I finally made it to the gym. Feeling good in the car, listening to the best of Michael Jackson (whose music is life enhancing). All was well in my world. Happy happy happy. And then I saw a dead hare on the road, then I hit and killed a butterfly, then I saw the remains of a pheasant coucal, another road kill. I could feel my happiness bubble deflating. It seemed false and naive to remain happy when there is death and destruction all around. The news is full of disaster. The death of the planet is a real possibility as we can't cure our greed for energy and money. Wars are being fought, children raped, animals tortured. It threatens to overwhelm all that is good. I never used to be this sensitive, bouncing back and forth between euphoria and a mood that is something like grief. I can smile at the shape of a tree and be crushed by the felling of it. I don't know how this generation of children will cope. Is it like the cold war when the end of the world was predicted with the press of one button? I don't remember feeling like the world was going to end. I suppose I missed the worst of it as I was too young to take note. Now I am. Yet I can't let the pessimism get to me. What to do? It came to me as I was driving home: love it all. Love the night and the day, love the dark and light, the disease and the cure. What? I hear my non-existent reader say. Love murder, rape and mayhem? Are you nuts? Maybe so. And I'm not even sure I'm capable of it. I am capable of trying. Is it not all God's creation? Even if we are creatures of free will there is nothing on this earth which is not God if god is the fabric of creation, the ever changing, ever perfect All That Is. Explanations are impossible. I don't know why there is evil and pain and fear in the world. Is it all relative? What I find awful (heavy metal, mass development, dinner parties) other people adore. I abhor having needles, others hardly notice them. Would we all agree that having birds in cages is wrong? Would we all agree that torturing kittens is wrong? Not the psychopath - he would find joy in it. Is his joy different from our own? Does he experience a visceral lift, that 'oceanic feeling' while he dismembers the little furry thing?
The idea of beauty in the Middle Ages has nothing to do with the idea of beauty now. Even the difference between now and the nineteen fifties is apparent. (I watched, for the first time, From Russia with Love with Sean Connery, the other night. The leading lady, who was obviously considered beautiful to be cast as his love interest struck me as a very plain jane made passable with the use of make-up). The Crusades was good and righteous then as the Jihad is good and righteous now - to some people. Perhaps it's a cop out - to love it all or if not to love it to just accept it, embrace it and not fear it. Jesus had a tanty in the temple of the money changers. Even Jesus could get mad. I've often thought of that. An angry Jesus, the lamb of god. Lambs don't have tanties. So anger has its place? It was a good things millions died to defeat fascism but wrong to fight in Afghanistan or Iraq? Hussein wasn't a very nice man. Perhaps personally he was charming. Libya's president, Gaddafi, has even come out of the cold, having a handshake with President Obama. I am such a product of my WASP up-bringing that my idea of good and evil is predictable. Maybe it's just laziness on my part because it is too hard a subject and philosophy is not something I'm good at. Which brings me right back to embracing, accepting it all as the fabric of life. That old saw about how would we ever be happy unless we'd experienced unhappiness? Cold without the sensation of warmth, health without sickness, etc. etc. Speak up against evil and apathy and cruelty when I can, shine a light where I can but otherwise just embrace the lot.
Monday, May 3, 2010
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Dmitri (always) Odds and Sods
It's true. When I paint I don't write. When I write I don't paint. At least I'm doing something which is grand. Have finished the Triumvirate of Crows which actually looks more like the Triumvirate of Gannets but who's judging. It's okay. It's a little weird, I've morphed one of the wings into a hand and the birds flying over the sea play tricks with perspective a bit (intentional) but it works. At least for me and I'm the only one who has to be pleased.
The current work is a face made of feathers with very large eyes. Large staring eyes. It's eerie as I drew the eyes first and have been working outward so this face emerges from the page without an outline as such. I've considered attempting a tromp d' loeil of the face being framed by torn paper. Saw an example somewhere. Really brilliant. Then again, the original idea was having this face transmogrifying from bird into woman or woman into bird. No, that's not quite true. I wanted to work on feathers. Unfortunately although I've the patience to do a sort of overlapping shell I haven't the patience to do individual feathers. While I was preening Marvin's head last night I studied his feathers. They are so complicated yet simpler than what I've been drawing but as I've drawn 3/4 of the face I'll continue with the effect I've started with. It will turn out to be something. No art work I've completed has ever turned out the way I envisioned it. I wonder if that's true for all artists. It's because I haven't the technique but also because the vision is always more complete yet more ephemeral than the actualization.
Rearranged the verandah and Dimitri's abode yet again. A few nights ago, with no provocation that I knew of, Dimitri fell off his perch 3 times. It was dark. We hadn't gone onto the verandah. I heard no unusual noises outside, yet he fell. That was it. Despite the pillows and padding surrounding his perch falling off three times is just too much. Even if he wasn't hurt, and he wasn't, it's a blow to his confidence to keep falling and heaven knows the boy lacks confidence. The next day I removed the tree perch, the food table, the chair and all the pillows, blankets and padding. He has two large and chewable branches, one about 7 feet long, the other probably about 5 feet. The shorter one is before the screen doors to outside propped on a short log with another slimmer branch stuck inside it. This morning I sawed off about 6" of that one because he was launching himself from it and landing awkwardly. He's most disappointed because although he can climb the branches and run along them he is now a floor ornament. But an unbreakable floor ornament.
This morning, for the first time in months, I did some clicker training with him but without the clicker which he doesn't like. Not the noise but the association as I used it when I was pressuring him to 'be friends'. I'm only using my voice. I suppose I'm clicker training each time I reward him with a millet sprig when he steps nearer but this morning I reintroduced the clicker for target training. First with Tachimedes, who remembered what he was supposed to do almost instantly. I ignored Dimitri while working with Tach which had the desired effect of bringing him over to investigate. He beaked it the first time and hung on for the next two times, trying to pull it away. That was good enough for a start. Our worktable will be the floor. I'm quite excited again. Naturally once he was confined to the floor he became worried again. We've taken a few steps backwards. No way would he take anything from my fingers. Yet this morning, as he came within inches of my leg while I worked with Tach, and ignored him, illustrated conclusively that he will come around. Perhaps we'll even get to the point where we can learn parlor tricks together (retrieve, ring on a post etc.)
As much as I'd like this to be a true repository for thoughts, feelings and observations it isn't. There is no way that I can write in here like I do in a handwritten journal. I cleaned this office a couple of days ago and found empty journals of all shapes and sizes, journals I'd collected over the years for future use. They seemed somewhat sad as they are like friends I'll never meet. I may go back to handwriting for awhile as I miss the intimacy and the freedom of journal writing. Even though I have no followers nor am I likely to get any I write in here as though someone was looking over my shoulder - which keeps it inane and boring. Odd at my age to fear the opinion of others but I am still that well brought up girl who was chastised for saying the word 'guts'. And the words of mom still ring in my ears, 'don't ever write down what the whole world can't read'. Words of wisdom she may have learned the hard way. She burned reams and reams of paper in the front of the Sparta house. What were they? fledgling novels, journals, letters, essays? I'll never know but I have a feeling that something she'd written was used against her somehow as she was always very secretive about her writings. I only found bits and pieces after she'd died. I know she was an inveterate writer of something, sometimes had The Writer magazine, had a few books on writing plus Strunk and White but I think her own teacher was her constant practice and inherent talent. The bits I've read have always intrigued me as they were unfinished and I wanted to know what happened to the characters I'd come to know. But the characters died with Mom.
The current work is a face made of feathers with very large eyes. Large staring eyes. It's eerie as I drew the eyes first and have been working outward so this face emerges from the page without an outline as such. I've considered attempting a tromp d' loeil of the face being framed by torn paper. Saw an example somewhere. Really brilliant. Then again, the original idea was having this face transmogrifying from bird into woman or woman into bird. No, that's not quite true. I wanted to work on feathers. Unfortunately although I've the patience to do a sort of overlapping shell I haven't the patience to do individual feathers. While I was preening Marvin's head last night I studied his feathers. They are so complicated yet simpler than what I've been drawing but as I've drawn 3/4 of the face I'll continue with the effect I've started with. It will turn out to be something. No art work I've completed has ever turned out the way I envisioned it. I wonder if that's true for all artists. It's because I haven't the technique but also because the vision is always more complete yet more ephemeral than the actualization.
Rearranged the verandah and Dimitri's abode yet again. A few nights ago, with no provocation that I knew of, Dimitri fell off his perch 3 times. It was dark. We hadn't gone onto the verandah. I heard no unusual noises outside, yet he fell. That was it. Despite the pillows and padding surrounding his perch falling off three times is just too much. Even if he wasn't hurt, and he wasn't, it's a blow to his confidence to keep falling and heaven knows the boy lacks confidence. The next day I removed the tree perch, the food table, the chair and all the pillows, blankets and padding. He has two large and chewable branches, one about 7 feet long, the other probably about 5 feet. The shorter one is before the screen doors to outside propped on a short log with another slimmer branch stuck inside it. This morning I sawed off about 6" of that one because he was launching himself from it and landing awkwardly. He's most disappointed because although he can climb the branches and run along them he is now a floor ornament. But an unbreakable floor ornament.
This morning, for the first time in months, I did some clicker training with him but without the clicker which he doesn't like. Not the noise but the association as I used it when I was pressuring him to 'be friends'. I'm only using my voice. I suppose I'm clicker training each time I reward him with a millet sprig when he steps nearer but this morning I reintroduced the clicker for target training. First with Tachimedes, who remembered what he was supposed to do almost instantly. I ignored Dimitri while working with Tach which had the desired effect of bringing him over to investigate. He beaked it the first time and hung on for the next two times, trying to pull it away. That was good enough for a start. Our worktable will be the floor. I'm quite excited again. Naturally once he was confined to the floor he became worried again. We've taken a few steps backwards. No way would he take anything from my fingers. Yet this morning, as he came within inches of my leg while I worked with Tach, and ignored him, illustrated conclusively that he will come around. Perhaps we'll even get to the point where we can learn parlor tricks together (retrieve, ring on a post etc.)
As much as I'd like this to be a true repository for thoughts, feelings and observations it isn't. There is no way that I can write in here like I do in a handwritten journal. I cleaned this office a couple of days ago and found empty journals of all shapes and sizes, journals I'd collected over the years for future use. They seemed somewhat sad as they are like friends I'll never meet. I may go back to handwriting for awhile as I miss the intimacy and the freedom of journal writing. Even though I have no followers nor am I likely to get any I write in here as though someone was looking over my shoulder - which keeps it inane and boring. Odd at my age to fear the opinion of others but I am still that well brought up girl who was chastised for saying the word 'guts'. And the words of mom still ring in my ears, 'don't ever write down what the whole world can't read'. Words of wisdom she may have learned the hard way. She burned reams and reams of paper in the front of the Sparta house. What were they? fledgling novels, journals, letters, essays? I'll never know but I have a feeling that something she'd written was used against her somehow as she was always very secretive about her writings. I only found bits and pieces after she'd died. I know she was an inveterate writer of something, sometimes had The Writer magazine, had a few books on writing plus Strunk and White but I think her own teacher was her constant practice and inherent talent. The bits I've read have always intrigued me as they were unfinished and I wanted to know what happened to the characters I'd come to know. But the characters died with Mom.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Fern, the Hahns Macaw and Time
Well, I'll be darned. It's worked. In the past I have tried to upload photos to the blog and have had no luck at all. Time outs, sullen refusals,' no speaka da inglis' - so much so that I gave up. The moon must be in the right quarter (waning) for here is Fern in all her pink glory sitting on the fence. Despite the appearance of that little cleft in her chest she is not overweight (not like some galah I could mention, mmmm Marvin?). It's a trick of the light for although she cannot fly (broken right wing, you can see it hangs strangely, broken at the joint), she is an active little thing and keeps her girlish figure.
Fern was the first galah who came to live with us. She was a young adult, not a juvenile and she taught me an awful lot about birds and galahs in particular. She took a long time to convince that we were actually on her side and wouldn't hurt her. Had her in a cocky cage set up in the dining area. I tempted her with sunflower seeds on a wooden spoon. Eventually she came around and although she is very opinionated and will nip without hesitation to show her displeasure, she is also very affectionate. It is only in the past year that I have been able, sometimes, to touch her anywhere but her head. I'm not sure but I think she's lived with us for about 9 years.
When we sit in our chairs with our respective drinks in the late afternoon after the chores we allow all the galahs out of the aviaries to have a pick and an explore. Marvin always bustles over first to have a preening session. Because he is so aggressive to the other birds he has to live in an aviary by himself. His aviary is right next to the 'girls' (although Obama is male, the only male living with the girls, we call it the girls, perhaps because he was the last addition) so he can see them. But he has no one to preen him. When he's had enough he asks to be put down on the ground and then, if Fern is nearby, she lifts her skirts and runs toward me. It's not that she's so anxious to see me, Fern is just a sprinter in spirit. She is the fastest galah on foot I've ever seen - and it does look as though she lifts her skirts (wings) so that they won't impede her while she gallops. The others just run without any rearranging of wings.
I have finished the Hahn's macaw and will try to get a picture of it up here tomorrow. I have it in the office with me now. It's at the stage that while it is *finished* I have to live with it awhile to see if any bits stand out as unfinished, overdone or incorrect. So far so good. Although it is a drawing from a picture and not something out of my head, I am well pleased with it. It has taught me alot about looking. I have a new appreciation for the feathering of my own birds and see them in a new more informed light.
Because I retire in 9 months I have been thinking about forming good retirement habits. It's been many years since I haven't worked. I have fallen into the trap of defining myself by my job and have worried a little about the bruising to my ego when I can no longer say I am a vet nurse. Ridiculous I know but there it is. There were times in my life when I didn't work and the days were filled with creativity. I painted and wrote and never seemed to waste time as I seem to now. Using free time well takes discipline. I could fritter it away with frothy busy-ness or use it constructively. Sometimes I get a sense of the fragility of life. It is a miracle that I'm alive, even for this brief butterfly wing beat of life. How many billions of people have lived before me who no longer draw breath? With a few rare exceptions they are forgotten, dust motes in a sunbeam. And I will join them. If there is something after death will I remember this life and berate myself for having taken it so lightly? Acting as though I would live forever and have all the time in the world? It is patently obvious I won't. Obvious now that I'm on the downward track. I suppose it's a part of aging that you think about time running out. Seems that almost every day R has another story about someone he knows ill or dying or dead. Our peers are starting to drop.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
It was Odd
The night before last, in that relaxed moment between leaving sleep permanently behind and swinging one's legs over the side of the bed to start the day I had an odd experience. Out of rhythm with my breathing, but as though I was breathing, my body was swelling and deflating - not so extremely as those words suggest but as though I was breathing. The chest expands and subsides with the inhalation and exhalation of the breath. Except I was breathing at a different rate than this strange phenomenon.
I was fully awake for I got up shortly after. But I held still just to experience this weird occurrence. It didn't hurt, it wasn't conscious, it wasn't even frightening, just odd.
I was fully awake for I got up shortly after. But I held still just to experience this weird occurrence. It didn't hurt, it wasn't conscious, it wasn't even frightening, just odd.
Friday, March 5, 2010
The Moroccan House
There is a house, a magnificent breath-taking house for sale near the coast. I've been looking at houses and properties for about two years because we don't know whether the quarry is in or out. It is before the Environmental and Planning Court but hasn't been heard yet. Because I don't want to live here if a quarry begins, with the accompanying traffic, noise and destruction, I've searched for another place to live. And I look at houses that are completely out of our price range. Why? Well, who knows, we might win the lottery. Stranger things have happened.
So, while R sleeps and the morning chores are finished I got online to check the weather (raining) and mail and there, there was this Moroccan inspired house near Lennox Head. Built on a hill (no danger of flooding or beach erosion) on a large block (large enough for the aviaries) and it simply took my breath away. My heart beat faster and I felt this lump in my chest. Oh, I could live in this house (offers over $2 million). It is mysterious and warm, exotic and comfortable, green and red and blue; green tropical foliage, red sandstone and blue ocean and pool.
What a good idea to move the cages. Tachimedes and Cornelius have gone into Corni's cage for breakfast but still want nothing to do with Tach's. I've taken the black sheet off the top of Tach's cage. It's never been a worry before but with the cage up so high it does look somewhat large and ominous looming over the rest of the verandah like some Twilight Zone alien. Have replaced it with a cream sheet which is light and airy and hopefully not so frightening to one tiny little cockatiel.
R is mowing the lawn. We take precautions before R mows as Dimitri has leapt from great heights because of fear. The padding around the tree perch extends out about 4'. Even Dimitri can't leap beyond the padding (I hope!). If he does leap he'll still scare himself but he shouldn't be injured. The other perches are laid down on the ground so that he can't climb them only to jump in panic. Otherwise I'd have to pad the entire verandah and that's just not logical. Couldn't clean it and I'd be doing bird laundry all the time.
Was quite chuffed this morning as Dimitri took the millet with less fuss and far more bravery. One day....
Went to the gym, bought groceries and and winning lotto ticket. How I wish. I know why I don't win. Not because of the odds against it. That's nothing. It's because I am torn between wanting material things and knowing in the scheme of things, ie reality, I don't need them and everything I need I already have. It's guilt. I have so much, why should I expect or ask for more. Where we live is a little piece of paradise. How dare I ask for frosting when I've got cake? Yet I do. There's another part of me that knows there is no want in the world. Having The Moroccan doesn't mean someone else does without. (It also has a studio over the garage, perfect for peace and quiet - painting, yoga and meditation - I love R to bits but it is difficult sometimes to have that little area of my own. He comes looking for me, just to touch base, not because he wants me to do something but...I don't know, he just comes and says hello, hovers a bit sometimes. I need a room of my own (Oh, Virginia how right you were!).
So, while R sleeps and the morning chores are finished I got online to check the weather (raining) and mail and there, there was this Moroccan inspired house near Lennox Head. Built on a hill (no danger of flooding or beach erosion) on a large block (large enough for the aviaries) and it simply took my breath away. My heart beat faster and I felt this lump in my chest. Oh, I could live in this house (offers over $2 million). It is mysterious and warm, exotic and comfortable, green and red and blue; green tropical foliage, red sandstone and blue ocean and pool.
What a good idea to move the cages. Tachimedes and Cornelius have gone into Corni's cage for breakfast but still want nothing to do with Tach's. I've taken the black sheet off the top of Tach's cage. It's never been a worry before but with the cage up so high it does look somewhat large and ominous looming over the rest of the verandah like some Twilight Zone alien. Have replaced it with a cream sheet which is light and airy and hopefully not so frightening to one tiny little cockatiel.
R is mowing the lawn. We take precautions before R mows as Dimitri has leapt from great heights because of fear. The padding around the tree perch extends out about 4'. Even Dimitri can't leap beyond the padding (I hope!). If he does leap he'll still scare himself but he shouldn't be injured. The other perches are laid down on the ground so that he can't climb them only to jump in panic. Otherwise I'd have to pad the entire verandah and that's just not logical. Couldn't clean it and I'd be doing bird laundry all the time.
Was quite chuffed this morning as Dimitri took the millet with less fuss and far more bravery. One day....
Went to the gym, bought groceries and and winning lotto ticket. How I wish. I know why I don't win. Not because of the odds against it. That's nothing. It's because I am torn between wanting material things and knowing in the scheme of things, ie reality, I don't need them and everything I need I already have. It's guilt. I have so much, why should I expect or ask for more. Where we live is a little piece of paradise. How dare I ask for frosting when I've got cake? Yet I do. There's another part of me that knows there is no want in the world. Having The Moroccan doesn't mean someone else does without. (It also has a studio over the garage, perfect for peace and quiet - painting, yoga and meditation - I love R to bits but it is difficult sometimes to have that little area of my own. He comes looking for me, just to touch base, not because he wants me to do something but...I don't know, he just comes and says hello, hovers a bit sometimes. I need a room of my own (Oh, Virginia how right you were!).
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Redecorating the Bird Verandah
Have spent most of the day rearranging the verandah. Yesterday Dimitri managed to climb atop Tachimedes cage. He stayed there all day and all night. It is so high that I didn't dare approach in case he took fright and jumped. He would've surely done himself an injury. Finally I managed to place a wooden ladder on the lip of the entrance and he came down looking for food (I couldn't feed him and he had to be content with budgie seed).
That was it. If he did it once he would do it again so things had to change. I'd been thinking about moving the littlies cages to the opposite end of the verandah anyway as I wouldn't have to pass him on his tree perch to replenish food and water. Today seemed to be the day. Unfortunately R was away and I had a heck of a time getting Tach's huge cage onto the 'art' table (a large, tall table that can be tilted up to support artwork. R built it for me while we were still in Tasmania. It took up practically all of the office and as I am using a portable board for my artwork rather than the table so it has been relegated to the verandah). Anyway, I wound up removing the seed skirt and the wheels (can't have a wheeled object on a table). Then I was confronted with the sharp table legs. How could I get this cage up without scratching everything. Ended up covering them with hankies and rubber bands. A girlie solution but effective. Leaned the cage against the table and pushed, turned it on its side and pushed again - with hip and arm - it was bloody scary as it is so heavy and unwieldy I thought I'd either drop it or have it come crashing down on me. Looking at it now I am amazed I managed to get it there.
But there it is and there it stays. The unfortunate thing is the little birds are befuddled. Where are there homes? They are sleeping rough as neither of them came to the cages for their evening feed and snooze. Tomorrow I'm sure they'll figure it out. Tach had an idea but this tall looming dark thing (half of it is covered in sheet so he feels protected) was just too much for him. Cornelius didn't even try. Corny is on the tree perch ladder and Tach is pressed against the ceiling on the old clothesline. Dimitri was the least upset. While I was trying to coax Tach and Corny into their 'new' homes, he came sidling over looking for treats. Not bad. Actually he took the upheaval quite well. I made sure I moved slowly and backed off if he showed signs of stress yet I think he's starting to realize that he will never be pushed too far by me. Or maybe that's wishful thinking. One incident tonight comes to mind. I pushed the coop cup on the floor, it made a sound, Tach panicked and flew off and Dimitri, in trying to fly off, did a complete flip!
Since writing here Dimitri and I have made tiny advances. I can sit in a chair by the feed table and he'll come and get millet sprigs. At first he'll run to the far end of the table to eat but with each treat he'll move less and less until he's only turning his body. That's a good thing. With the introduction of the chair we had to back up a bit as he was nervous (again) about taking treats from my fingers but we've done that again too so it's all good.
I am working on a pencil sketch of a Hahn's Macaw and am really pleased with its progress. It's probably about 3/4 finished. Some of it, especially the eye and beak, really 'leap' out at the viewer (methinks). I wish I could imagine that and then imagine the detail but frankly I would never be able to draw the feathering, the beak, the eye, the feet without a reference photo. Or real life but just don't think Dimitri (or anyone) would stand still long enough, with the light from the same angle, etc. for me to do it. Still, I have learned and am learning a lot about feathers, beaks, legs etc. and if I can create something from my head in the future (I really don't like copying, it seems such a cop-out) it will come in handy.
That was it. If he did it once he would do it again so things had to change. I'd been thinking about moving the littlies cages to the opposite end of the verandah anyway as I wouldn't have to pass him on his tree perch to replenish food and water. Today seemed to be the day. Unfortunately R was away and I had a heck of a time getting Tach's huge cage onto the 'art' table (a large, tall table that can be tilted up to support artwork. R built it for me while we were still in Tasmania. It took up practically all of the office and as I am using a portable board for my artwork rather than the table so it has been relegated to the verandah). Anyway, I wound up removing the seed skirt and the wheels (can't have a wheeled object on a table). Then I was confronted with the sharp table legs. How could I get this cage up without scratching everything. Ended up covering them with hankies and rubber bands. A girlie solution but effective. Leaned the cage against the table and pushed, turned it on its side and pushed again - with hip and arm - it was bloody scary as it is so heavy and unwieldy I thought I'd either drop it or have it come crashing down on me. Looking at it now I am amazed I managed to get it there.
But there it is and there it stays. The unfortunate thing is the little birds are befuddled. Where are there homes? They are sleeping rough as neither of them came to the cages for their evening feed and snooze. Tomorrow I'm sure they'll figure it out. Tach had an idea but this tall looming dark thing (half of it is covered in sheet so he feels protected) was just too much for him. Cornelius didn't even try. Corny is on the tree perch ladder and Tach is pressed against the ceiling on the old clothesline. Dimitri was the least upset. While I was trying to coax Tach and Corny into their 'new' homes, he came sidling over looking for treats. Not bad. Actually he took the upheaval quite well. I made sure I moved slowly and backed off if he showed signs of stress yet I think he's starting to realize that he will never be pushed too far by me. Or maybe that's wishful thinking. One incident tonight comes to mind. I pushed the coop cup on the floor, it made a sound, Tach panicked and flew off and Dimitri, in trying to fly off, did a complete flip!
Since writing here Dimitri and I have made tiny advances. I can sit in a chair by the feed table and he'll come and get millet sprigs. At first he'll run to the far end of the table to eat but with each treat he'll move less and less until he's only turning his body. That's a good thing. With the introduction of the chair we had to back up a bit as he was nervous (again) about taking treats from my fingers but we've done that again too so it's all good.
I am working on a pencil sketch of a Hahn's Macaw and am really pleased with its progress. It's probably about 3/4 finished. Some of it, especially the eye and beak, really 'leap' out at the viewer (methinks). I wish I could imagine that and then imagine the detail but frankly I would never be able to draw the feathering, the beak, the eye, the feet without a reference photo. Or real life but just don't think Dimitri (or anyone) would stand still long enough, with the light from the same angle, etc. for me to do it. Still, I have learned and am learning a lot about feathers, beaks, legs etc. and if I can create something from my head in the future (I really don't like copying, it seems such a cop-out) it will come in handy.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Dimitri Breakthrough and Pencils
Somehow life seems to be coming together a bit. I've taken myself in hand and decided that I didn't like not liking myself much. So much easier to live with myself when I'm being creative, taking care of myself and making progress in areas of my life that matter to me. I'd started to slide off with the yoga on my days off. Too easy to sleep in then, once I did get up, the birds and other creatures needed breakfast and then once that was done the day was off and running. Now I set the alarm and even if I sleep in for another half hour I'm still up at 5:30 which gives me 30 minutes of yoga. I've noticed that days which start with yoga are better days.
Hate to admit this but I'd backslid with the spider solitaire (like talking about heroin addiction or something). I still had it on the start menu and was occasionally playing the odd game. Then the odd game became a couple of games and so on until I was playing it with closed my eyes at night. Time to stop. I removed the game from the hard drive. The relief was and is palpable.
I've finished the Parrot LLP mini-lessons and will soon start the course. Had a huge breakthrough with Dimitri. Two breakthroughs actually. The first one was taking a treat from my hand. I've fed him treats before but it was always me going towards him with it so he could reach it. No wonder he snatched and ran. This time I'm standing at the end of the food table with the millet sprig in my outstretched hand. After a warm up period in which he came closer and closer he finally took it. His choice. Him coming to me. The first few times he ran to the end of the table to eat it but yesterday he was moving only a few inches away. I'm really happy about this as I see it as a major hurdle. His choice. It explains a little why he was so inconsistent with treat-taking before. I always had to step towards him to give it and even though he wanted the treat I was still advancing into his territory or safe space. Now it is entirely his choice to take the treat or not. Total freedom.
The other breakthrough is him eating from the seed bowl while my fingers are touching it. For quite a while now he has been eating from the seed bowl while I sit beside it. I'm only half a foot away. He's nervous at first but then relaxes and eats without raising his head from the bowl. I've even practiced moving my hands about; putting a strand of hair behind my ear, wiping my brow, scratching my leg - moving my hands slowly but making the movements big. He's coped with that very well. But he hasn't coped with my hands anywhere near the feed bowl. I can have them folded in my lap (we're on the floor) but I can't even extend a finger to the rim. Then I could. He was far more nervous to begin with but eventually settled and ate normally. Happy Day!
KL told me a story about her corella. She's had him for 18 months or so. He was always very trusting and affectionate; loved cuddles, being carried about and made a fuss of. Last Australia Day KL went away with her family. A trusted family friend fed the birds while they were gone. KL has implicit trust in this person and knows she wouldn't have done anything to the corella yet when they returned home the bird was afraid, nervous and wanted nothing to do with KL. In the intervening year KL has tried hard to win back his trust. He was like Dimitri; taking a treat then running with it. Very anxious. Then last week she held her finger up, stroked his breast and said 'up', like she always did. He hesitated then leapt onto her chest and buried his head under her chin. He cuddled for an hour and a half and again the next day.
It just goes to show how highly strung corellas can be. Dimitri is entirely different from the galahs and from S. C. Cockatoos I've known. I should do some work with Obama, teach him to step up, etc. As it is all he wants is head scratches. It wouldn't take long for him to be completely trusting and tame - but I'm not that committed to the time it would take as there are other things I'd rather do - like cuddle Marvin, Mr. Cuddle Himself. But it just illustrates how trainable and trusting galahs can be with just a little input. Dimitri is an entirely different kettle of fish. Perhaps it's because besides being wild caught he is an adult. I have no way of knowing. Yet, despite the time and setbacks and dumb moves on my part, we are making progress.
I hoot before going onto the verandah. Trying to imitate his hoot. It's a nice way to warn him I'm coming out as well as being, I hope, a contact call that reassures him. I have noticed him softly hooting a response a few times and that warms the cockles of my heart.
Have also reignited my interest in pencil drawing. I've always loved pencil drawing for its own sake. Did a little web searching and have found some absolute masters like John S. Gibb, (http://www.johnsgibb.com), who are inspiring in what can be done with the pencil. I've done alot of colour work but somehow, perhaps because I'm not technically proficient with colour and how colours relate together I seem to get into more strife. I have done some good colour work, but I do love the simplicity of pencil. Looking at Mr. Gibb's work, especially the otters, there's something more real and otterlike about those drawings than I think would be possible to convey with colour. And because I'm not always having to make colour decisions, drawing with pencil is more relaxing. I want to work and don't dread it. If I make a mistake I can erase it. With colour it's not always that easy to fix mistakes.
Hate to admit this but I'd backslid with the spider solitaire (like talking about heroin addiction or something). I still had it on the start menu and was occasionally playing the odd game. Then the odd game became a couple of games and so on until I was playing it with closed my eyes at night. Time to stop. I removed the game from the hard drive. The relief was and is palpable.
I've finished the Parrot LLP mini-lessons and will soon start the course. Had a huge breakthrough with Dimitri. Two breakthroughs actually. The first one was taking a treat from my hand. I've fed him treats before but it was always me going towards him with it so he could reach it. No wonder he snatched and ran. This time I'm standing at the end of the food table with the millet sprig in my outstretched hand. After a warm up period in which he came closer and closer he finally took it. His choice. Him coming to me. The first few times he ran to the end of the table to eat it but yesterday he was moving only a few inches away. I'm really happy about this as I see it as a major hurdle. His choice. It explains a little why he was so inconsistent with treat-taking before. I always had to step towards him to give it and even though he wanted the treat I was still advancing into his territory or safe space. Now it is entirely his choice to take the treat or not. Total freedom.
The other breakthrough is him eating from the seed bowl while my fingers are touching it. For quite a while now he has been eating from the seed bowl while I sit beside it. I'm only half a foot away. He's nervous at first but then relaxes and eats without raising his head from the bowl. I've even practiced moving my hands about; putting a strand of hair behind my ear, wiping my brow, scratching my leg - moving my hands slowly but making the movements big. He's coped with that very well. But he hasn't coped with my hands anywhere near the feed bowl. I can have them folded in my lap (we're on the floor) but I can't even extend a finger to the rim. Then I could. He was far more nervous to begin with but eventually settled and ate normally. Happy Day!
KL told me a story about her corella. She's had him for 18 months or so. He was always very trusting and affectionate; loved cuddles, being carried about and made a fuss of. Last Australia Day KL went away with her family. A trusted family friend fed the birds while they were gone. KL has implicit trust in this person and knows she wouldn't have done anything to the corella yet when they returned home the bird was afraid, nervous and wanted nothing to do with KL. In the intervening year KL has tried hard to win back his trust. He was like Dimitri; taking a treat then running with it. Very anxious. Then last week she held her finger up, stroked his breast and said 'up', like she always did. He hesitated then leapt onto her chest and buried his head under her chin. He cuddled for an hour and a half and again the next day.
It just goes to show how highly strung corellas can be. Dimitri is entirely different from the galahs and from S. C. Cockatoos I've known. I should do some work with Obama, teach him to step up, etc. As it is all he wants is head scratches. It wouldn't take long for him to be completely trusting and tame - but I'm not that committed to the time it would take as there are other things I'd rather do - like cuddle Marvin, Mr. Cuddle Himself. But it just illustrates how trainable and trusting galahs can be with just a little input. Dimitri is an entirely different kettle of fish. Perhaps it's because besides being wild caught he is an adult. I have no way of knowing. Yet, despite the time and setbacks and dumb moves on my part, we are making progress.
I hoot before going onto the verandah. Trying to imitate his hoot. It's a nice way to warn him I'm coming out as well as being, I hope, a contact call that reassures him. I have noticed him softly hooting a response a few times and that warms the cockles of my heart.
Have also reignited my interest in pencil drawing. I've always loved pencil drawing for its own sake. Did a little web searching and have found some absolute masters like John S. Gibb, (http://www.johnsgibb.com), who are inspiring in what can be done with the pencil. I've done alot of colour work but somehow, perhaps because I'm not technically proficient with colour and how colours relate together I seem to get into more strife. I have done some good colour work, but I do love the simplicity of pencil. Looking at Mr. Gibb's work, especially the otters, there's something more real and otterlike about those drawings than I think would be possible to convey with colour. And because I'm not always having to make colour decisions, drawing with pencil is more relaxing. I want to work and don't dread it. If I make a mistake I can erase it. With colour it's not always that easy to fix mistakes.
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