The bird life in the small village I call home is a phenomenon. The black cockatoo, seen here in flight, is among the most amazing.
They are not at all ‘neurotic’ as could perhaps be said of some of the white varieties. They are very social animals. Where one lurks, there will certainly be a dozen others lurking nearby. Their call is loud but not an ear-splitting screech. More a genial squawk. And they have the beautiful bright red tail feathers, beneath their glossy black plumage, on display whenever they reveal their undercarriage. For example, in flight.
And, when in flight, they display their utter supremacy over the air. Their large and powerful wings and trim upper bodies make them aerodynamic masters. They are wizards of manoeuvrability, and love showing this off to all – human, avian, or otherwise – who happen to be watching. When they decide to descend on a particular patch of turf, e.g. the small stand of casuarina trees between my front verandah and the beach, they will frequently treat me to a group aerial display that delights me, and would put Farnborough to shame.
They love playing these aerial games. They are like a group of boisterous human adolescents, showing off their prowess with maximum exuberance.
What do they eat? Nuts of all varieties. And they are not short of supply where I hang out. Female casuarina trees sport nuts of which they are particularly fond. And nearby, in my backyard, is a huge hoop pine – one of the tallest in the neighbourhood – which they love to strip of all its edible produce, squawking with glee as they do so.
What would I do without these wonderful birds? They are, for certain, a bright light in my life. When the dawn light penetrates my bedroom windows each morning, and I hear their familiar squawk, I know I am blessed for the day.