The Scrivener: Not Quite Pterodactyls
…You know, the sort of ordinary everyday things people chat about — antioxidants in coffee; the Ondes-Martenot; radical language innovation in contemporary poetry; the absence of a continuous historical style in synagogue architecture; French Gypsy manouche jazz; and so on….
Oh for the good fortune of being in conversation with Brian Barratt!
For a rewarding session of intellectual callisthenics please visit Brian’s Web site The Brain Rummager http://www.openwriting.com/archives/the_scrivener/
My visitor glanced out of the French window that overlooks the overgrown back garden. 'Good heavens!' he declared. 'Dinosaurs!'
The conversation had been proceeding along the usual meandering route. You know, the sort of ordinary everyday things people chat about — antioxidants in coffee; the Ondes-Martenot; radical language innovation in contemporary poetry; the absence of a continuous historical style in synagogue architecture; French Gypsy manouche jazz; and so on.
The Ondes-Martenot, by the way, is a musical instrument. And a very unusual one it is, too. It was designed about 70 years ago, one of the first and the most successful of early electronic instruments. It has a keyboard and also a touch-sensitive strip along which the player runs his hand. The sounds it produces are quite remarkable.
OK, perhaps our topics were not so ordinary and everyday. It can be just as interesting to chat with folk about what was on telly last night; the rising price of food; the Australia versus India cricket test matches; the pigeons on the roof; and such matters.
Variety is the spice of life. A range of good chats and real conversations with all kinds of people helps to provide that variety, I reckon.
Those pigeons on the roof are a bit of a nuisance. Chats with my next door neighbour are usually on his large, covered deck at the back of the house. There are hanging baskets of ferns and plenty of potted plants on assorted ancient tables. The roof is made of that translucent plastic stuff which filters the sunlight in summer. When pigeons rush up and down it, the clatter of their tiny hard feet is well nigh deafening. Especially if, like me, you wear hearing aids so that you can hear what the other person in the conversation is saying.
A pair of pigeons nested amidst the ferns in one of the hanging baskets a month or two ago. It was presumably Mother who kept a wary eye on us while we sat chatting. One chick appeared, grew up, and flew off to its new life in the garden and beyond.
They say that pigeons are monogamous and stay with their partners for life. That doesn't seem to prevent them from having what one might call amorous adventures. There's a cacophonous symphony of coo-cooing all the time while the gentlemen chase the ladies round the footpaths, along the fences, and across the roof. We have a resident white pigeon, or dove, too. It wasn't long before he started chasing the freshly-flown fledgling round the garden, the dirty beast. Probably an extra-marital affair.
Which brings us back to the dinosaurs. My visitor has a sense of humour and a way with words. What he actually saw, on the wooden steps leading up to my small rear deck, was something he'd never seen before — a currawong feeding its young offspring. The adults are large and handsome birds. They look a bit like Australian magpies but are related to butcherbirds. The adult is about 50cm (20 inches) from end to end and sports a fearsomely long beak. As someone said, it's the size of several pigeons stuck together.
The young one was a dull grey colour, and not as sleek as the adult. Its fluffy featheriness gave it a plump and less than graceful appearance. From where we were sitting, we could see only their necks, heads and huge beaks, while Mother was stuffing choice titbits down Offspring's voracious throat. A somewhat startling sight. They're not quite pterodactyls but they are fascinating to watch. And another good topic for conversation.
© Copyright Brian Barratt 2008
