When we first conceived of living opposite a forest of trees (as we do) we imagined that the sound of the birds in the morning would be a heart lifting sound that sustained us in fine spirits until mid morning tea at the very least. There is something about birdsong in the early morning that provides a gateway to some other place in the mind, the heart, and soul. Couple this to the robust dawn light that we get here, a sort of clean version of sunset…full of moisture and cool air, and the thought of breakfasting on our little balcony overlooking the vista sounds quite lovely. At any rate, the average temperatures here mean that the normal state of living is with windows open. We invariably sleep with the sliding doors to the balcony open to get some circulation, and we are therefore physically connected to the dawn in a way that makes the natural world hard to ignore from about 5.30 a.m.
Imagine now the sound that you might expect from a hundred and fifty year old fishwife in ruddy good health chasing a bunch of reprobate children off her strawberry patch for the third time in ten minutes. Her voice would be a sort of ‘other worldly’ screech that defies categorisation… and without actually seeing her making the noise, you’d not be able to place it. Now imagine that that voice coming out of a radiant blond 20 year old beauty with long shimmering locks, straight white teeth and a long white flowing dress… and you’d have the Australian Cockatoo.
The Cockatoo is a beautiful white bird, a bit like a dove, that sounds like it’s trying to spew up its guts! That’s what we wake up to most mornings. ‘Hi… welcome to Australia, have a nice day!’
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