A bit of wet weather — and all hell broke loose in the forest around me.
My most raucous neighbours swooped in, a whole pack of them, loud and restless.
There were perhaps eight Yellow-tailed Black Cockatoos, swapping trees, snapping twigs, screeching across the clearing at full unmusical volume.
As they barely stayed still for a minute and they like the uppermost branches, they were hard to locate, let alone snap, with the zoomed camera lens.
When they take off they look awkward, stiff-winged flapping like a kid in a superman cape, but they fly unerringly between the dense tree canopy.
I never know why they come and for such short times, nor what they are saying so loudly and incessantly in their rusty voices. But their sudden appearance is always a drama — a grand entrance and exit around a brief but impressive one-act performance.
Thanks for sharing your cockies too Denis. And the baby’s nonstop carry-on did get a mention in my book, but there weren’t any this time.
Hi Sharyn
I know how you feel. One cannot ignore the Cockies when they arrive.
Sometimes they sit low in the shrubs and low wattle trees, tearing branches apart looking for grubs. They tend to be quieter then – no squawking, just loud chewing noises.
Here, where we don’t have tall Eucalypts, they sit in the tops of Pine Trees, munching on cones.
You didn’t mention the incessant gargling noises of the chicks.
They can go on for hours.
Loved your description of them flying, like a kid with a cape.
Beautiful.
Cheers
Denis