Saturday, November 11, 2006

silvereyes

For a little while now we've been able to see, up close, a number of silvereyes in our cherry tree, having a big feast of cherries.

Firstly, I have to say that Sydney isn't the ideal place for growing good edible cherries. They need a much colder climate. When I was a kid my father was regularly sent a box of the first cherries of the season, grown down south in Young. Nonetheless, our tree does get cherries which, while you wouldn't harvest them and have a big feast, there's always a few that we eat just to show we can. They taste a little too 'fresh', if you know what I mean.

And we can see the birds up close as our house at the back is two storey and our kitchen window is right on the cherry tree - and the native magnolia tree, with the jacaranda just a spit further away. It's as though we're in a hide and the birds don't notice. It's a good thing to see before having to drag off to work.

Anyway, the cherry tree is very attractive to the small exquisite silvereye and also to the slightly larger bulbul. There are various bulbuls around the world. The one we see here is the red-whiskered bulbul. It's an introduced species and though I'm not a fan of exotics - we have a hate-hate thing about starlings, for instance - I'm kinda fond of this one. It was introduced from China and not Old Blighty, so at least it's from this side of the world, if that matters one iota.

On other bird 'isshews', a little while back Mark Young had a post about the koel, a kind of cuckoo. It would have to be the most annoying bird in the world with its ever-rising loud, often at four am, cry of ko-ee ko-ee ko-ee, which gets into your head and drives you to distraction, especially if you're woken by it at that hideous green hour of the morning. Grr. It seems to have moved on.

What is it with poets and birds?

1 comment:

Louise said...

Oh yeah, that bird. The koel is here too, one solo bird that is very #@$%ing noisy and waits until all the other birds are quiet, then it starts or stops for a while, catches you out and starts again. Don't know what it is with birds and poets, but they gather in similar circles, some more charming at least than others.