Free-ranging Bantams

Currently three of our five Buff Pekin Bantams spend most of their day foraging in the garden or resting in the deep and fragrant shade of the Galangal, a plant which has good associations for the little flock. The other two are pre-occupied with secret egg business in the dark of the chook house. On this batch of hens arrival, two and a half years ago, the chook pen encompassed this vigorous ginger plant and they would make dust baths or occasionally lay an egg or two, if the available nest boxes were occupied, between the thick green stems. But this winter I made use of the pen's fertilised soil to plant spinach, beetroot and chinese greens and the hens yard was moved to a new spot.

 

I'm always charmed by the birds friendly, busy nature and observing their behaviour; noticing how they interact, hunt and forage while keeping an eye out for danger, is endlessly interesting to me. Sometimes I think my affection for the group is like a kind of professional admiration, their seemingly impractical feathered feet and puff pants belie such an impressive operational effectiveness. 

Egg production varies with the seasons and their own cycle - but we never need to buy eggs and often have spare to give away. They don't have names, but come when I talk to them or earnestly follow me to lock them back into safety. We do however pencil a number onto each egg, to know which to eat first and I always prefer when its mal's graphic hand that does the numbering - as you see it was the subject of this still life a 60th birthday gift to mal from our friend, artist John Honeywill.

Wet Sunday

A patched view of the spare block with the Loquat tree lopped back to allow more sunlight onto the veggie patch. The Galangal starting to flower in the foreground, nasturtiums in full swing and sprawling across the paths and  five buff Pekin bantams foraging in the wet grass.

eye level bird life

Spring comes in with a rush, the first indication of the season change is being woken as early as 4am by the butcher birds. Of course their call is so beautiful, clear and melodious that its easy to listen to as you fall back to sleep. Next clue comes from the cyclists, or rather their bike helmets which begin to sprout sprays of black electrical cable tie bristles -in an attempt to discourage arial attack from the increasingly territorial nesting birds.  Given that the back verandah of our house is at tree top level, we get a close up view of the bird life and inevitably we become emotionally invested in the dramas of the fledging brood.
This season has brought strange weather challenges, with days of wild wind and torrential rain. There must have been some event which compelled the three butcher bird chicks to leave the safety of their nest too soon. Eric the cat brought in no.2 chick early one morning and we managed to re-locate it unharmed to a box tree branch above the back verandah, then watched keenly as the parent bird continue to feed it in it's new spot. Barely had the warm inner glow of knowing we had averted disaster, than Eric brought in no.3 chick, again unharmed, and again we relocated it to the nearest branch. Now of course we have begun to assist the parents by putting out little portions of meat and watch as they ferry the beak-full to each of the three chicks in their various locations.The female comes right up the the plate as we put the food out, so close we can see the lovely whiskers at the edge of her beak. The male hangs back and waits until we move further away.  Obviously the two younger chicks are having some difficulty hanging onto the branch as they seem to keep ending up back on the ground and sure enough Eric brings no. 2, or is it no.3? chick back into the house again the next morning. Now we are desperately involved. We watch as the parents cleverly stash surplus food in the fork of small branches and learn to recognise their strident warning calls as they swoop on unwitting pedestrians on the footpath beside the house. The next night brings torrential rain, the wind blows and we anxiously wonder just how the chicks will fare. In the morning it is clear they have not held onto the branch, but they are vigorously calling out to be fed. Following the sound, we find them in the vegetation below the tree. The smaller chick is wet and weaker now but again we fix them both up onto the branch. Feeding continues but chick no.3 is falling behind, it is just that bit slower now to open its beak, we can see that most of the food goes to no.2 Later in the morning no.3 falls down again, we bring it in and warm and dry its feathers, but a little later the chick dies.

Over the following week the two fledglings strengthen and thrive, despite more wild westerly winds. Now moving from tree to tree and further from our viewing zone, still we can locate them from their calls to the parent birds. This drawing by Peter Slayter reminds us that Butcher Birds are ruthless nest robbers, no doubt they have fed their chicks this season from the noisy miner's nests nearby. If so, then good, all the birds in the area would benefit from a predator to keep the Noisy Miner population in check, their collective strategy of aggression has diminished the once wide range of bird common to this area. 

BOGI fair 2010

This gathering of the members and followers of Brisbane Organic Growers Inc under the Albion Overpass and aptly situated on McDonald Street is all about organic plants and seeds, rare farm animals, growers competitions and backyard farm stuff. My friend Sue had entered six of her best hens eggs.

We were excited to find Rare Chook man Mark Tully showing young bantams black silkies and plymouth rock. There was a lot of fascination for the big gingerhaired pig, piglets, - a mother and kid long eared Nubian Goat and two vocal Guinea fowl.

wandering the market, collecting a few more culinary plants a jam or two then we headed towards the lush line-up of hopefuls competing inside the Peace Hall.

Now I'm remembering village hall fairs like this my UK childhood - and their closely related buzz event the Jumble Sales.

and wow! Sue's hens eggs have won 2nd prize.

Love those nasturtions in the backgound they are big in my backyard this spring.

Bird Haven

Located on a sandstone ridge 40km south of Brisbane with average rainfall 950mm per year and no mains water, this picture shows how abundant a dryland native garden can be. The conditions certainly suit grevilleas and acacias and the bird life that thrives on their flowers. The owners say they are unashamed collectors of native plants but despite an extraordinary tally within one hectare, there was a soft feathery gentleness to this AOGS garden. With most of the planting beneath eucalypts, the ambient light was soft and animated, but the 'fabulous bones' of large sandstone boulders and outcrops really made the bushland scene seem quite magical. I recognised a couple of favorites; trailing purple flowered hardenbergia - which I have just planted from cuttings taken from a tough old survivor beside the shopping centre carpark and Hovea or purple pea bush which is native to our hillside. 

Again I love this use of the succulent, Pig Face which seems to survive anywhere and looks so comfortable as a ground cover. I loved walking through this garden, it was rowdy with birds, sheltered and discretely colourful. Worth the long drive to get there.

Bok Choy beginners luck?

If this was the best bok choy ever, should I have let it seed. Too late its eaten.

All the green loot in the background was planted in the well aged patch that the bantams have occupied for the last 3 years. Good conditions for our winter crop, which thrived and grew throughout the shortest days - a surprising counterbalance to the lack of action in the garden now.

What is home anyway?

On the meaning of home, when Gertrude Stein returned to the US after an absence of 30 years she wrote: 'Roots are so small and dry when you have them and they are opposed to you. You have seen them on a plant and sometimes they seem to deny the plant if it is vigorous....... Well we're not like that really. Our roots can be anywhere and we can survive, because if you think about it we take our roots with us. I always knew that a little and now I know it wholly. I know because you can go back to where they are and they can be less real to you than they were three thousand, six thousand miles away. Don't worry about your roots so long as you worry about them. The essential feeling is to have the feeling that they exist, that they are somewhere. They will take care of themselves and they will take care of you, too, though you may never know how it has happened. To think of only going back for them is to confess the plant is dying.'

Tunbridge garden mid winter - just a few days before winter solstice. The Tamarisk, so dense in summer - is now brown and see through. The Pin Oak in the foreground, planted this summer, still has its autumn leaves, while several plants have touches of frost burn. The pencil pines are so full of roosting starlings each night - is that why the branches keep bending out ? Not much to do - it feels like everything is asleep.

Summer 2010

On arrival at each visit to our house in Tasmania, the first excited circuit of inspection invariably takes in all the changes in the garden. Here's the first in our row of heritage fruit trees bursting with foliage, if not fruit. This one is the Plum, Coe's Golden Drop. The top image was taken one year after planting in 2006. The trees as well as the instructions on how to espalier them came from Bob Magnus at Woodbridge Fruit Trees. Like most plant nurseries the very mention of our location in Tunbridge, often described as the driest location in Tasmania, usually elicits groans of despair. But this year's drought breaking rain has changed the midlands landscape and brought lush growth to the region.