Bottlebrush and Animals
It is spring … we had a substantial fall of rain on Monday with an equally substantial drop in temperatures that necessitated my placing the inner back into my duvet, commonly known as a doona here in W.A. Why a doona? I don't know. This part of the world has some strange words … doona for duvet; donga for transportable rooms, Blue for a redhead, and other colloquialisms that escape my mind at the moment.
The rain was welcome. By Wednesday, when all trace had evaporated, the air was clear and the countryside smelt fresh and clean. Birds found puddles for drinking fountains and the three little rabbits that appear to live beneath the old bank on the corner nibbled on the green grass growing amongst the splits in the footpath. Several weeks ago I noticed two rabbits attempting to jaywalk to the shop. Huge road trains rumble by, but these bobtail bunnies, using road sense, and common sense, traversed the dangerous highway with ease. Now there are three little rabbits.
I was out the other day and began a conversation with schoolboys who were hungrily eyeing the rabbits. The suggestion that they feed them up with a little bread for a few weeks was rewarded with a knowing wink. I felt no guilt. Two rabbits six weeks ago can increase to untold numbers by Christmas, and out there beyond the black stump is a rabbit proof fence. Whether we are on the right side or the wrong side of that fence is debatable. A photo of little bunnies has not been taken as they scampered to hide … I wonder if they understood the words 'pan' and 'rabbit stew'?
At this time of year the native Bottlebrush is in all its full glory. Eight Bottlebrush trees grace our main street and all are in magnificent bloom. Brilliant red flowers catch the eye. If I recollect correctly this years flowers are considerably bigger and better than those of last year. What that foretells I am not sure, but there is bound to be some folklore associated with it.
The swallows are once again nesting, and hatching their young, in the rafters of the balcony of the hotel. Our two visiting dogs, Rusty and Sally [Sally Anne when she is naughty] delight in running along the balcony, their feet pitter-pattering as they anticipate a little game. During the night these little dogs share the room with their masters and the two resident Blue Heelers climb the stairs to sleep on guard. In the early morning I coax them back downstairs and outside, but once the canine visitors are sent outdoors, via the fire escape, they all delight in chasing the crows watching from the beer garden roof. I place the kitchen scraps in two bowls near the beer garden. Dogs have first choice, but the moment their backs are turned the crows help themselves.
Wombat, the 'senior dog' here oversees all food disposal! He is first. He has second choice … and third choice as well. Should he condescend to let another dog approach the bowl it is on his terms, which means he can growl and chase them away as he sees fit. And he often sees fit! I have been at the clothesline hanging out tablecloths when Wombat, who not five seconds earlier had chased [with vehemence] one of his kennel mates away, will bring a bone … with meat … to me, drop it at my feet, and expect me to pick it up and be grateful. He is presenting a gift! Which goes to show that he has me higher in his pecking order than the other dogs. Then again, he knows the hand that feeds him! Our Wombat is not silly. It could truthfully be said he is greedy and selfish and bossy … but he is also lovable, which is a redeeming feature.
Bear, the other Blue Heeler is content to wait. Somewhere in his past he has been unkindly treated and it is sad to watch him cower at any sign of confrontation, be it canine or human. He is the one who sleeps outside my door, and who, I like to think, would stand guard should trouble arise. Though that is one test I hope never arises.
Between four dogs, crows that hover, swallows that nest and hatch, and the spring flowering of the Bottlebrush, there is plenty to occupy ones senses. Soon the weather will warm up and we will seek the coolness of our rooms and the air con. Until then … spring is a-blooming fair.
The rain was welcome. By Wednesday, when all trace had evaporated, the air was clear and the countryside smelt fresh and clean. Birds found puddles for drinking fountains and the three little rabbits that appear to live beneath the old bank on the corner nibbled on the green grass growing amongst the splits in the footpath. Several weeks ago I noticed two rabbits attempting to jaywalk to the shop. Huge road trains rumble by, but these bobtail bunnies, using road sense, and common sense, traversed the dangerous highway with ease. Now there are three little rabbits.
I was out the other day and began a conversation with schoolboys who were hungrily eyeing the rabbits. The suggestion that they feed them up with a little bread for a few weeks was rewarded with a knowing wink. I felt no guilt. Two rabbits six weeks ago can increase to untold numbers by Christmas, and out there beyond the black stump is a rabbit proof fence. Whether we are on the right side or the wrong side of that fence is debatable. A photo of little bunnies has not been taken as they scampered to hide … I wonder if they understood the words 'pan' and 'rabbit stew'?
At this time of year the native Bottlebrush is in all its full glory. Eight Bottlebrush trees grace our main street and all are in magnificent bloom. Brilliant red flowers catch the eye. If I recollect correctly this years flowers are considerably bigger and better than those of last year. What that foretells I am not sure, but there is bound to be some folklore associated with it.
The swallows are once again nesting, and hatching their young, in the rafters of the balcony of the hotel. Our two visiting dogs, Rusty and Sally [Sally Anne when she is naughty] delight in running along the balcony, their feet pitter-pattering as they anticipate a little game. During the night these little dogs share the room with their masters and the two resident Blue Heelers climb the stairs to sleep on guard. In the early morning I coax them back downstairs and outside, but once the canine visitors are sent outdoors, via the fire escape, they all delight in chasing the crows watching from the beer garden roof. I place the kitchen scraps in two bowls near the beer garden. Dogs have first choice, but the moment their backs are turned the crows help themselves.
Wombat, the 'senior dog' here oversees all food disposal! He is first. He has second choice … and third choice as well. Should he condescend to let another dog approach the bowl it is on his terms, which means he can growl and chase them away as he sees fit. And he often sees fit! I have been at the clothesline hanging out tablecloths when Wombat, who not five seconds earlier had chased [with vehemence] one of his kennel mates away, will bring a bone … with meat … to me, drop it at my feet, and expect me to pick it up and be grateful. He is presenting a gift! Which goes to show that he has me higher in his pecking order than the other dogs. Then again, he knows the hand that feeds him! Our Wombat is not silly. It could truthfully be said he is greedy and selfish and bossy … but he is also lovable, which is a redeeming feature.
Bear, the other Blue Heeler is content to wait. Somewhere in his past he has been unkindly treated and it is sad to watch him cower at any sign of confrontation, be it canine or human. He is the one who sleeps outside my door, and who, I like to think, would stand guard should trouble arise. Though that is one test I hope never arises.
Between four dogs, crows that hover, swallows that nest and hatch, and the spring flowering of the Bottlebrush, there is plenty to occupy ones senses. Soon the weather will warm up and we will seek the coolness of our rooms and the air con. Until then … spring is a-blooming fair.
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