Month: February 2023

Keeping up the momentum

There has, of course, been the odd wobble in the planned routine but essentially this book is now steadily moving forward. My wonderful mentor has just sent back the second lot of comments, with gratifyingly few criticisms. She did say there was only some minor editing to do but otherwise it’s looking good. Phew.


I remain focussed despite it being summer, with all that entails when there are vegies that need to be harvested and processed, and opportunities to attend various arts-related festivals which are all crammed into Tasmania’s relatively short season of more reliable weather conducive to holding outdoor events. Then, needless to say and because this is Tasmania, there is the constant and grinding need to respond to other controversial projects that will negatively impact our environment, or threaten public health, wildlife, forests, clean air and waterways, and every other natural resource deemed essential for a healthy life and wellbeing.


Now of course there’s the whole issue of climate change that’s finally hitting home. Even if still being virtually ignored or sidestepped by governments – as it was in the early stages of the pulp mill campaign when the warnings from scientists were still polite murmurings, rather than the louder and more urgent pleadings of today.


The country has experienced the full catastrophe over the past year – and I use the word ‘catastrophe’ advisedly. There have been bushfires and floods with all the destruction and devastation that has fallen on people, homes, crops, businesses, and our increasingly fragile environment, yet still too many in the political and corporate class refuse to listen.


Such is the life of an activist in the midst of such insanity.


Now it’s back to the book . . . .

Rosella rescue

It seems to be the season for wildlife rescues. The rescued green and gold frog is doing nicely and remains happily ensconced in his new bathtub home with his larger companion. We assume he must be much more relaxed and comfortable with life as he no longer jumps into the water the moment we walk by. All good there.


The latest rescue was an eastern rosella who made me jump when it crashed into my office window a few days ago. Birds have a habit of doing this, at certain times of the year especially, but I can’t ever remember a rosella doing so before. The windows weren’t even that clean! Plus most are adorned with discreet but rather attractive butterfly transfers – possibly placed there by previous owners as an optimistic deterrent to just this situation. If so it hasn’t worked too well!


Over the years several birds have either suicided flying into some of the windows in this house, or given themselves a very nasty headache before apparently recovering and flying off. The rosella was still alive, but undoubtedly suffering when I rushed out to check. He was on his back and very distressed even after I righted him. He was in no hurry to fly off either poor fellow but it was impossible to tell if he had injured himself internally.


I picked him up and sat outside on the deck with him perched on my knees while he panted and shook from shock and fright. Even so he was content to sit placidly and thankfully made no attempt to peck me with his small but powerful beak. It was rather a privilege to be so close to such a magnificently plumed bird and to study him quietly while he recovered. So light and so fragile and yet so graceful when in the air.


Thankfully Ross the rosella did eventually recover but it took the best part of 30 minutes during which time he did make rather a mess of my clothes. I took this as a good sign and that he was getting over the shock, and what the heck, they were due to be washed anyway.


He followed up by pooing in the water container I eventually brought out, thinking he might welcome a drink. He declined though, then declined any further contact with me. A good sign I thought and totally fine by me as it indicated he really was going to be OK. Sure enough he soon hopped to the edge of the deck and then half flew onto the driveway and then rather unsteadily into the magnolia tree.


I followed just to make sure he wasn’t still a bit wobbly, but no he had his confidence back and soon flew to another tree at the end of the driveway and then off. Hopefully he’s learned a lesson and won’t fly into windows again.