[et_pb_section fb_built=”1″ admin_label=”section” _builder_version=”4.16″ global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_row admin_label=”row” _builder_version=”4.16″ background_size=”initial” background_position=”top_left” background_repeat=”repeat” custom_padding=”||11px|||” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.16″ custom_padding=”|||” global_colors_info=”{}” custom_padding__hover=”|||”][et_pb_post_title meta=”off” featured_image=”off” _builder_version=”4.23.2″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_post_title][et_pb_text admin_label=”Text” _builder_version=”4.23.2″ background_size=”initial” background_position=”top_left” background_repeat=”repeat” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” sticky_enabled=”0″]<\/p>\n
If I am engrossed in reading something (perhaps The Bulletin?) he will let me know he is there. Oh yes! He is impatient for me to notice him, for he wants to be fed. Not later, but now. This instant. I know he is not popular with bird lovers. They say he frightens off the small native birds like Blue Wrens (which I love) and others. But this Mickey seems harmless to me, with his jaunty, cheerful manner. So I say, \u2018Oh! It\u2019s you again…\u2019 as I put down my cup, survey my breakfast tray and decide on the morsel that I shall give him today…hot buttered toast that I know he loves. I break off a tiny portion and place it on the table a few inches from my tray. He flutters from the verandah balustrade to the back of a nearby chair and warily checks the field, looking this way and that, listening, checking again before he darts to the table, picks up the crumb of toast and flies off. He is back in no time, giving a bit of a chirrup from his position on the chair, and this time confidently alights near the fragments of toast, near me, and one after the other, devours each piece, throwing his head back heartily as he swallows his meal. This bird knows I am his friend.<\/p>\n
[\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][\/et_pb_section][et_pb_section fb_built=”1″ _builder_version=”4.23.2″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.23.2″ _module_preset=”default” custom_margin=”-82px|auto||auto||” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.23.2″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_blog show_thumbnail=”off” show_author=”off” show_date=”off” show_categories=”off” _builder_version=”4.23.2″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_blog][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][\/et_pb_section]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
If I am engrossed in reading something (perhaps The Bulletin?) he will let me know he is there. Oh yes! He is impatient for me to notice him, for he wants to be fed. Not later, but now. This instant. I know he is not popular with bird lovers. They say he frightens off the […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"on","_et_pb_old_content":"Recent news about crows menacing humans reminded me of my school days when Marty, Joan and I would walk barefoot the five kilometres from our home on Buccan Hill to the Logan Village School.\r\nThe first hundred or so metres down the long hill were safe enough, but then we must pass the big gum tree that stood near the entrance to the cow paddock of rich pasture on the Logan River. In this tree nested the crows!\r\nI suppose it was only at nesting time that the crows would attack us, but we were always wary, looking upwards as we approached, and getting ready to run! I think the birds sensed that we were afraid and would remain quiet as we sauntered nearer, pretending we were fearless. Just when we thought we were safely past the danger spot, the crows would swoop, screeching their war-cry! Our little legs sprang into action, running as fast as we could as the birds swooped over our heads, again and again, terrifying us as we raced breathlessly towards the creek where we knew low hanging willows would give us some shelter. The crows did their job well; their nest was safe.\r\nThen it was on to school, past the meat-ant nests that pitted the old gravel road. It seemed that these big red ants were out to get us too...but that\u2019s another story.","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[1,26],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-950","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-general","category-musings"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/sexinyourseventies.com\/2023\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/950","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/sexinyourseventies.com\/2023\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/sexinyourseventies.com\/2023\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sexinyourseventies.com\/2023\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sexinyourseventies.com\/2023\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=950"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/sexinyourseventies.com\/2023\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/950\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":952,"href":"https:\/\/sexinyourseventies.com\/2023\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/950\/revisions\/952"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/sexinyourseventies.com\/2023\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=950"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sexinyourseventies.com\/2023\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=950"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sexinyourseventies.com\/2023\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=950"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}