Page 135 - moondani kyema
P. 135
ndani kyema, My Story - Ray Moore 135
inside and carefully fed with eye drops, pudgy fingers and food which specialised in
milk or its derivatives. Invariably however the result was the same. They died, and
then were taken out to the special spot behind the shed, where there was already a
small array of crosses indicating the passing of previous feathered fledglings.
Priscilla was a goose that flew into our property and stayed for a while, working her
way into our emotional lives to some extent, only to fly away after a few days, once
again teaching us a lesson in separation and grief.
In the part of my shed I used as a workshop, I had a shelf above my work bench on
which was an ice cream container with a few screws and nails in it. One day I went
in to work at the bench and a blackbird flew out of the ice cream container. Later I
noticed that a nest had been built in it, and one day I went in and the blackbird was
sitting in the container and did not move, but stayed there and let me move around
without disturbing it. Sheer magic! It was not long before the nest contained eggs
and finally, to my delight, the eggs hatched and there were four little scrawny, nude
blackbirds. I became part of their lives and was captivated by their day to day
activities. I watched mama blackbird bring in worms and other titbits for them to eat
– which they did enthusiastically. I also watched with fascination one day as one of
the babies poo’d in the nest and the tiny bit of poo was caught by mama bird in her
beak and it was deposited outside the ice cream container. It seems that blackbirds
at any rate, do not foul their own nests.
There were a number of unwanted animals as well as the snakes mentioned above.
Feral cats were spotted from time to time, and usually caused us little problem until
one had its litter in one of our small sheds. Here were these three beautiful little
kittens looking as gentle and mild as you could wish, but we knew that if they were
allowed to live, they would join the destructive company of their relatives in the wild. I
looked at them and could not bring myself to harm these little bundles of fluff. I said
to my two sons, “I can’t do it”. After I disappeared strategically, I heard the bang of
the .22 rifle three times, and knew that the job had been done.
And then there were Bev’s organic tomatoes. She had carefully prepared the base
for the plants according to the book, and it wasn’t long before we had a healthy crop
of tomatoes coming on. But when we were not looking, a couple of kangaroos found
them and started on what they hoped would be a nightly feast. So we built a
kangaroo proof fence around the tomatoes. Soon after this we noticed that tomatoes
were still being purloined. This time it was rabbits, so we built a rabbit proof fence
which included digging down a foot or more to bury the bottom of the fence as a
deterrent to the burrowing bunnies. We hadn’t allowed for the cockatoos who chose
this moment to fly in from above, and wreak havoc with our precious plants. And
after we had covered the plants with netting we discovered that the field mice had
found our tomatoes and developed a taste for them. We ate what were left.
I was very happy on our little 'farm'. I had a small grey Ferguson tractor which I used
to tow the trailer; to collect wood using my Stihl chainsaw, drive the bench saw, slash
the bracken and carry all sorts of loads.
Bev was also happy in this retreat. She gradually extended the garden and lawn out
from the house, and as always, it looked beautiful. Drew (Fred) was still at home and
we were able to get him a small Suzuki trail bike which he rode for miles through the
forest as there were few fences to stop him. Bev used to say that she did not worry
so much when she could hear the sound of the motor bike, it was the silence that
inside and carefully fed with eye drops, pudgy fingers and food which specialised in
milk or its derivatives. Invariably however the result was the same. They died, and
then were taken out to the special spot behind the shed, where there was already a
small array of crosses indicating the passing of previous feathered fledglings.
Priscilla was a goose that flew into our property and stayed for a while, working her
way into our emotional lives to some extent, only to fly away after a few days, once
again teaching us a lesson in separation and grief.
In the part of my shed I used as a workshop, I had a shelf above my work bench on
which was an ice cream container with a few screws and nails in it. One day I went
in to work at the bench and a blackbird flew out of the ice cream container. Later I
noticed that a nest had been built in it, and one day I went in and the blackbird was
sitting in the container and did not move, but stayed there and let me move around
without disturbing it. Sheer magic! It was not long before the nest contained eggs
and finally, to my delight, the eggs hatched and there were four little scrawny, nude
blackbirds. I became part of their lives and was captivated by their day to day
activities. I watched mama blackbird bring in worms and other titbits for them to eat
– which they did enthusiastically. I also watched with fascination one day as one of
the babies poo’d in the nest and the tiny bit of poo was caught by mama bird in her
beak and it was deposited outside the ice cream container. It seems that blackbirds
at any rate, do not foul their own nests.
There were a number of unwanted animals as well as the snakes mentioned above.
Feral cats were spotted from time to time, and usually caused us little problem until
one had its litter in one of our small sheds. Here were these three beautiful little
kittens looking as gentle and mild as you could wish, but we knew that if they were
allowed to live, they would join the destructive company of their relatives in the wild. I
looked at them and could not bring myself to harm these little bundles of fluff. I said
to my two sons, “I can’t do it”. After I disappeared strategically, I heard the bang of
the .22 rifle three times, and knew that the job had been done.
And then there were Bev’s organic tomatoes. She had carefully prepared the base
for the plants according to the book, and it wasn’t long before we had a healthy crop
of tomatoes coming on. But when we were not looking, a couple of kangaroos found
them and started on what they hoped would be a nightly feast. So we built a
kangaroo proof fence around the tomatoes. Soon after this we noticed that tomatoes
were still being purloined. This time it was rabbits, so we built a rabbit proof fence
which included digging down a foot or more to bury the bottom of the fence as a
deterrent to the burrowing bunnies. We hadn’t allowed for the cockatoos who chose
this moment to fly in from above, and wreak havoc with our precious plants. And
after we had covered the plants with netting we discovered that the field mice had
found our tomatoes and developed a taste for them. We ate what were left.
I was very happy on our little 'farm'. I had a small grey Ferguson tractor which I used
to tow the trailer; to collect wood using my Stihl chainsaw, drive the bench saw, slash
the bracken and carry all sorts of loads.
Bev was also happy in this retreat. She gradually extended the garden and lawn out
from the house, and as always, it looked beautiful. Drew (Fred) was still at home and
we were able to get him a small Suzuki trail bike which he rode for miles through the
forest as there were few fences to stop him. Bev used to say that she did not worry
so much when she could hear the sound of the motor bike, it was the silence that
