No partridges or pear trees for me this Christmas, but Rainbow Lorikeets in a Jacaranda.
Gorgeously coloured, brighter than Christmas decorations, yet unseen by me until I heard the unmistakable, unstopping whinging of baby birds…
Far up in the Jacaranda where I’d not have been looking, they were just a darker blob from the ground.
But the constant carry-on gave them away. I assume parents and two young, but they all looked the same from way down here.
Not nesting, just resting … and gone next day.
I had one more Christmas visit: an afternoon sojourn in a shady tree by my Tawny Frogmouth Dad and one young, surely a teenager by now. The latter appeared asleep, nestled up against Dad on a very hot Christmas Eve.
So good to see at least half the family and know all was still well.