I’ve started feeding the local birds again, now that the winter has properly kicked in. I know I don’t really need to. Even in the very depths of winter here on the mid-north coast of New South Wales, it could never be considered a harsh environment and there’s still plenty of greenery about and food aplenty for all the birds and little critters. But my magnolia tree has dropped all its leaves now and the bird feeders I hung there last winter (and promptly forgot about all spring and summer when the leaves grew out around them) have miraculously reappeared, and it seems such a shame to waste them. The ceramic feeders are shaped like big shiny apples (one red and one green) and I like the way they look (from a distance at least) like real fruit hanging from the bare skeleton of the tree.
So I filled up the feeders for the first time last Saturday. It took just about half an hour for a pair of brightly coloured little parrots to lay claim to their new-found treasure. I could see them from my kitchen window—one sitting proudly atop one ‘apple’ looking for all the world like he was planting a flag on Everest, while his mate hung perilously upside down from an overhanging branch, peering in at all the delicious delicacies on display inside the other. “How sweet”, I thought.
Well it was not quite so sweet the next day. Word had obviously got out that there was free food for the taking and by mid morning there was a flock—an honest-to-God flock—of about fifty rosellas, rainbow lorikeets, and a single black cockatoo all screaming furiously at each other as they jostled for position on the magnolia tree. I admit, the cockatoo was a surprise. I see groups of them over at the park regularly but I have never seen one in my garden before. As gorgeous as he was, quite honestly I’d prefer him to stay in the park—his earsplitting screeches were enough to make your eyes water. (And your ears bleed. I read somewhere that a cockatoo screech can reach 135 decibels. I believe it.)
And my poor pretty little pair of treasure-finders had really no chance of protecting their claim against the hordes of interloping cousins—but, bless them, they were giving it a good go. The shrieking, screaming and frantic wing-flapping (not to mention lots of pushing and shoving) went on for hours—or perhaps it just seemed that way to me . . .
(I did discover, quite by accident and, unfortunately, very late in the day, that if I said “Hey Maudie, where is your ball? Go fetch me your ball” she would rocket out into the garden in search of it, which would send the whole birdie flock soaring skyward (howling their displeasure as they went). Within moments peaceful silence would prevail once more. It didn’t last of course. As soon as Maudie was back inside the birds would start to regroup and the squabbling would start all over again, but a brief respite was better than none. I wonder if I could hire her out as some sort of doggie-scarecrow? She has no interest in the birds, but as long as you’re willing to play ball . . )
Anyway, after what seemed like a very long day, things eventually started to quieten down of their own accord as the birds (presumably all now fat and fed) began to wander off home to their nests and hidey-holes to rest their lungs and have a bit of a lie down. Phew. If they didn’t need a lie-down, I sure did. 
My head was splitting and my ears were ringing. (I can only imagine how the dogs felt. Perhaps this is why I kept finding my bed in such disarray when I came home from work early this week. I have visions of the girls all trying to burrow deeply down into my pillows in an effort to block out the din.)
I wonder if pet parrots are as loud as their wild counterparts? I have never owned a parrot (actually I have never owned a bird at all) but if their antics are anything like the ones I have been watching from my kitchen window they would not only be hilariously entertaining (and, as the quote above seems to suggest, quite mischievous)—but also extremely loud. I am not sure I could handle it. (Although, perhaps if your parrot don’t have parroty-friends around to egg him on he is happy to live a quieter life? Or will he just find something else to scream at instead—like the cat?) I am sure they make fabulous pets for some, but perhaps not for us. The girls and I like our peace and quiet.
Working towards the restoration of our quiet lives, we now seem to have hit on a plan which seems (so far) to be working for everyone. I now only fill up the birdfeeders just before I leave for work. That way the feeding frenzy happens when I (and hopefully my neighbours) are all away for the day and well out of earshot. I have piled extra blankets and pillows on my bed for the girls to hide under (and hopefully act as insulation) should the noise become too much for them. And my first two sweet little birdy friends, who were so unceremoniously thrust aside by their big bully cousins, have now started appearing, just the two of them, late in the afternoon after everyone else has gone home, to pick quietly at the days leftovers—and the tasty little bit of something special that I now put out just for them.
So, it’s all good. And, if something does go slightly awry and I do happen to be home during the next ‘feeding time’, I also now have a sure-fire, no-fail, back-up plan—
“Hey Maudie, Maudie, Maudie. Where is your ball? Go fetch me your ball . . . . “
Sally says . . . eat, sleep, work, read, play, draw, bark . . . 
Jon
July 25, 2016 at 11:21 am
Very enjoyable and entertaining Sally. Love the links to more info too and absolutely love our birdlife, noise and all. So much colour compared to where I grew up (NZ). It’s great to read interesting comments from others too.
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sallyinthehaven
July 26, 2016 at 7:16 am
Thanks Jon. 🙂
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p
July 22, 2016 at 4:00 pm
Another entertaining blog Sal. This is rather left-field, but I love that your blog has prompted a comment from America. How wonderful to hear about Appalachian bird life! Hummingbirds, woodpeckers & Fergus the dog. It all sounds so exotic & far away! Through your blog, I feel like I have a little glimpse into the life of someone else on the other side of the world. Quite amazing! PS I love C. C. Cedras’s profile pic – do you think she might be a shoe lover like us?!
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sallyinthehaven
July 23, 2016 at 9:42 am
I am trying to become an ex-shoe lover, remember? Don’t tempt me. 🙂 CC is one of three fabulous writers on their site, so not sure who the shoe lover is – perhaps all three! You should check their blog out. There are food and drink recipes there too – you might find some sort of Appalachian delicacy you can try out on unsuspecting dinner guests . . . https://stilettosstoliandscribbles.wordpress.com/
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C. C. Cedras
July 23, 2016 at 9:50 am
I think we “merged” our replies on this! Thanks for the support of the blog, Sally!
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C. C. Cedras
July 23, 2016 at 9:46 am
Shoes are one of my passions! My (late) Darling Husband never let me forget the time I opened a shoe box in my closet and discovered a gorgeous pair of heels I didn’t even remember buying. It was like Christmas morning!!!! (shameless promotion) For more arcana from America, I invite you to check out the blog I share with two co-writers: stilettosstoliandscribbles.wordpress.com. We three share your love of shoes, among other things…😏
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C. C. Cedras
July 22, 2016 at 10:34 am
Far less exotic avian fans of the birdfeeders here in Appalachia US, but I also put out seed aimed at small wild birds and woodpeckers (also hummingbirds), so, while I envy your colorful flock, I’m glad Fergus doesn’t get run crazy by such a frenzy every day. I understand parrots live, like, 80+ years?
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sallyinthehaven
July 22, 2016 at 11:09 am
Small pet parrots (cockatiels etc) can apparently live 15-20 years and pet cockatoos regularly live 60-65 years and some much longer. Not sure about their wild counterparts but I am assuming much less, due to all sorts of unforseen circumstances (including frantic women with big sticks driven mad by their screeching. Kidding. Sort of.) I am guessing hummingbirds are much quieter. My girls think Fergus is a very lucky boy . . .
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C. C. Cedras
July 22, 2016 at 1:32 pm
Fergus is, indeed, a lucky boy for any number of reasons. Hahaha. As you were posting, a mourning dove smacked the window like a rifle shot and died within a few feet of the glass patio door, driving Fergus into fits of prey-driven anxiety. His Mom, me…, put on a latex glove, sneaked out through the greenhouse and around to where the poor dove lay, snatching it up and carrying it away to parts of the forest unknowable to Fergus. Problem solved. One can only imagine the fits incurred if we had cockatiels and parrots rioting in the trees outside the house. 🙄
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sallyinthehaven
July 23, 2016 at 9:31 am
It is just as well our furbabies have mums who are willing to put on the latex and dispose of the bodies . . . the things we do. By the way, I told the story of your ‘Roomba’ episode at work the other day. Much hilarity ensued . . . and I think the Roomba company might have lost a number of potential customers as well. 🙂
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C. C. Cedras
July 23, 2016 at 9:40 am
I love this reaction to the Roomba episode. I’ve replaced several of the Roomba components and it still gives me an error message and won’t do its thing. I’ve been waiting on advice from iRobot for two days so far. I’m not making a warranty claim, mind, this is not their defect,I just need to know if this is a lost cause.
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sallyinthehaven
July 23, 2016 at 9:45 am
If you had to tell the people at iRobot what actually caused the initial malfunction they are probably still laughing – hence the delay in getting back to you. 🙂
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C. C. Cedras
July 23, 2016 at 9:47 am
LOL no doubt
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