Part twenty- seven : Family Matters

Well, here we are in the latter part of June and several momentous (and some perhaps not so momentous) events are occurring. To start with, we are experiencing our first cold snap of the year and the temperature has dropped to a freezing 21?C, with the accompanying equally freezing, gusting Antarctic winds.

Of course we have totally forgotten how we sweltered, and whinged about excessive heat and humidity, only six months ago ! But then that's our seniors' prerogative, isn't it ?

Meanwhile, back in my garden, the large deciduous 'ant tree' with ten million leaves, has just started the annual process of shedding them willy-nilly onto my lawn and into my pot plants, filling them to the brim thus preventing water from reaching the plants' roots. With a thousand or more leaves dropping every day, my lawn resembles a rough-cut greenish carpet overlaid with a random design of untidily placed reddish-brown leafy splotches. After raking my pocket-handkerchief sized lawn, I manage to fill at least one large garbag every day !

Now to the birdlife, and I have a new update on my last month's mention of the nesting dusky honey-eaters. I did predict Mother's day as the EDA, but I was actually one day early in that prediction. The whole process took about forty days – from start of nest building to desertion. It was only after I saw the male dusky flying off with an empty eggshell that I knew I was about to become a doting grand-mother ! And yes, I was really happy when I realised it was twins cuddling down in the nest.

But these babies needed constant, daylight-to-dark, non-stop feeding and attention from both parents. While Mr Dusky was quite skittish and never really keen on my presence, Mrs Dusky was totally blasé and had no qualms at all. She even tolerated my reaching for the tap situated just under the nest. It was fascinating to watch the parents rock up and see two little wide-open beaks appear above the rim of the nest, and listen to the muted bird chirpings – no doubt translating into words like "feed me, and make it quick".

Recently there was a viewer-submitted photo on the ABC (pre-weather report at 7.25pm) showing, in full colour, two tiny honey-eater nestlings with mouths wide open begging for food. The photo was an exact replica of the twins hatched on my patio.

But the best thing was actually being present late one afternoon to see the twins emerge from the nest to take their first 'baby steps'. Mum and Poppa Dusky were close by, chirping encouragement as the twins walked around the edge of the nest and even climbed onto the arms of the fuzzy-wuzzy air plant. As they spread and flexed their wings, I noted that they seemed not to have any tail feathers. This was a bit of a worry in case they tried to fly without being correctly balanced.

However, as they sat side-by-side for a couple of hours in the warm late afternoon sun, happy to be out of their tiny, cramped nest and able to perch safely on a friendly plant surveying their small corner of the universe, I surmised they were actually waiting for their full-feathered coat to unfold and fluff up ready for flight – similar to the way a butterfly emerges from its chrysalis. Otherwise how would that ultra-minute nest accommodate two growing baby birds plus two long, strong tail feathers ?

Checking on them periodically, I was at one stage attracted by some furious tweeting. I found the Dusky parents, in turn, dive-bombing a large friar bird who was only trying to feed from a nearby banana flower. He was obviously not welcome so close to the Dusky twins, so I helped to send him on his way. Just after dark I found that the family had decamped –flown away to start life elsewhere. I was sad, but pleased that I had been allowed to share their lives over the last six weeks.

Gayle Carroll