On The Gold Coast: The Bird Table
Judith Wallis writes about the construction of a most unusual "bird table''. Though a bird lover, Judith confesses that she would have praised the inventor of a remote control, something that could be pointed at partying parrots so that, with the touch of a finger, their obstreporous outpourings could be muted.
When the shops were brightly decorated and people smiled at strangers in the street because they were all sharing in that wonderful bustling activity that precedes Christmas, our-man-about-the-house decided to buy a present for the wild birds that visit our garden.
He arrived home with a huge seed ball which he hung in the yellow flowering poinciana that grows opposite the front porch.
We did not have long to wait for the first visitor, a large sulphur crested cockatoo who entertained us by hanging upside down as he ate and squawked loud warnings at a dozen rainbow lorikeets who lined up on an overhead branch hoping the cockatoo would leave some seed for them. They were joined by a galah, several crested pigeons and spotted turtle-doves. In the late afternoon I heard the bell like call of the crimson rosella and looked out to see a blur of brilliant colour leave the tree. A moment later the bird was back with a pair of yellow eastern rosellas.
For several days our garden was filled with feathered activity. And noise. Much noise. I come from New Zealand where birds trill warble and whistle sweet melodic music. Australian birds screech and squawk, clack, croak and cackle with laughter. There were days when I wished I could turn them down; when I thought how I would praise the man who invents a remote control I can point at the partying parrots and, with a touch of the finger, mute their obstreperous outpourings.
In spite of the noise we were flattered to have so many visiting birds and decided to build a permanent bird-table. Out came the paper and pencils and our creative talents were let loose. We made trips out to the tool shed, checking supplies of timber, dowel, screws, nails and tools. We emptied boxes stored in the garage looking for a length of fine chain we knew was packed away somewhere. On Sunday morning we rose early and immediately after breakfast set about collecting the materials needed to make our magnificent bird table.
It was a hot day (30 C at 9 a.m.) and leaving our-man-about-the-house to put his carpentry skills to good use, I went back into the house for a jug of iced water. While I was there the phone rang and I chattered a few minutes before returning to the front porch to find omath lounging in a chair and no sign of the timber or tools. In response to my questioning look he said ‘All done. I found the perfect thing. Look.’
Suspended from the tree was a large wire hanging basket with an equally large plantpot dish wedged in it. He had threaded a piece of dowel through to hold it in place and at the same time provide a perch for the birds who were already feeding. ‘Two minute job. No tools required,’ he said with a satisfied nod.
Perhaps Agatha Christie was right when she said, ‘I don’t think necessity is the mother of invention --- invention in my opinion, arises directly from idleness, possibly also from laziness. To save oneself trouble.’ And Henry Ford employed lazy men because, he said, they always found a quicker, smarter way to do a job.
So while our bird feeder may not be the architectural masterpiece we originally planned, it does the job and that’s fine by me.
