Soulmate Auditions

11 February, 2007

Seeking affordable and healthy entertainment, we have purchased a National Parks Pass. Each weekend, we select one of a plethora of nearby parks. Pack a picnic hamper and set off to explore a new walking track through the bush. (Notice my rich Australian vocabulary?) Today, we ventured north to Kur-ing Gai National Park down a steep trail that leads to several secluded beaches looking out towards the Barrenjoey Lighthouse at Palm Beach. Optimistic interpretive signs described numerous positive cultural exchanges between the settlers and the aboriginal people that once ruled over this land, glossing over the ugly details of their banishment from their own way of life, while goannas scurried menacingly across the trail, seeking refuge (or is it vantage) up the trunks of trees.

We returned home sore and exhausted, too exhausted to detail the ineptitude of Australian mapmakers and the inadequacy of trail signs which lead us 3 km down a one way track, albeit to a lovely beach resort town otherwise accessible only by boat. Stepping into the spare bedroom to discard my sweaty boots, I was surprised to find an equally exhausted noisy miner fluttering against the sunny window. Judging from the number of feathers and the amount of poop on the window sill, the poor thing had been there for quite some time. Wanting to cause him the least amount of distress possible, I popped the screen from the window, thus liberating the tiny captive.

No sooner had I returned from retrieving the now broken screen from its six-story plunge, than the little bugger had gone straight around to the balcony and hopped once more inside. This time, Kevin was able to shunt him right back out the sliding glass door. Later that evening, the little bugger was back again, hopping boldly through the door and making himself quite at home. After clearing up the crumbs in front of the coffee table, he skipped into the kitchen and pecked the floor clean. Amused as I was, and always willing to feed a hungry soul, I drew the line when he went after our dinner and quickly shooed him out the kitchen window.


Spending much of my time as I do, feeding the various species of birds from the balcony, I have observed the origin of the phrase “pecking order”, and I can say without doubt, that the small but fearless noisy miners are at the top, where as the large (and infinitely noisier) cockatoos rank fairly low on the ladder...speaking of which, there is one squaking at the kitchen window behind me as I speak...I suppose he wants an audition, too.