Little joey plays air guitar

When last at Currumbin I took a photo of this little Big Red fella who popped out of the pouch to do some groovin' on air guitar... :-D

Watch out Rock 'n Roll world, he's coming your way!!

Update on the children of Capt Rainbow II and the Missus II

They grew up and flew away :-) :-) :-)

Dad Rosella and Mum Rosella are debating whether to have a new brood. Dad says YES!! YES!!, Mum so far seems to be saying "NO WAY BOYO". Or tweets to that effect.

Wallaby joey update 3

Sad news. Despite a very good start, the wallaby joey died due to sudden renal failure last Thursday, after three months in superb care. Jan, his carer of 24 hours a day, seven days (and nights) a week, is devastated. Our fantastic vet Willa did all she could but despite Jan's entreaties not to let him die he just slipped away. Willa thinks maybe his period of intense hypothermia at the start could have done some kidney damage, but then again, it could have been a birth defect of some sort.

I really feel for Jan and her husband Peter who gave excellent and devoted care to him for three months and were so looking forward to releasing him into the wilds behind their farm.

Remember Captain Rainbow and his Missus, the Eastern Rosellas?

These are the children of Capt Rainbow II and the Missus II (Long story. Ask Sunny the cat ...  :-(  )

This is the nesting box I built two years ago. There are six of them at least, so a big brood for eastern rosellas ... aren't they beautiful? (hmm ...  well, their mother loves them, anyway).

But here at the Grange we're enchanted.

Click for a larger image

Visitor in the woodshed

You could be excused for thinking of Ada Doom here (from Cold Comfort Farm: "I saw something nasty in the woodshed!"). But it's only Charlie our local python. I must say, he seems to have grown a lot these past hibernating months.

He was a bit camera shy: so you can't see his pretty face ;-)

Wallaby joey update 2

All is well with our joey! Jan is being such a wonderful carer. He's gained weight, is growing fur, and drinks well. Jan has been offering him grass to eat but he's not showing interest in that yet (but he will suck fingers, nibble on bracelets, chew on buttons, and the like). Jan informed us that had he been able to stay with his mum in natural conditions, he would still have spent another 210 days in the pouch (7 months!). So he does spend most of his time in the humidicrib, and he is taken out for feeding and toileting.

Tess holding the joey, now renamed "Benjamin Wallaby"

In Yarrow's arms. As you can see he has some unusually striking markings for a swamp wallaby.

Joey update

Just rang Jan ... He's doing very well. He weighs 666 grams which puts him at about 80 days old: very young to survive without a Mum. (See here for a table of weight / feed ratios).
He has not developed diarrhea which is one of the big dangers for young rescued macropods. According to Jan he's doing better than most joeys she's had in her care, which is wonderful considering how very cold he was to start with. He's much more active and very curious about his surroundings. We'll go visit him later this week and take some more photos.

Rescue of a swamp wallaby joey

Driving down towards the narrow bridge over Pearce's Creek late Thursday afternoon with Tess, we spotted a small shambling silhouette staggering across the road. Shocked, we realised it was a very young joey. Swerving to give it plenty of room, the Forester has never been brought so sharply from 80kph to a halt downhill on grass. Tess pelted back up the hill, and gathered it gently in her school jumper.
Poor thing, it's frozen, I said as I felt its ears, only lightly covered in fur. Tuck it under your shirt, against your skin. Where's its Mum? Tess swaddled it under her shirt and held it close.

A short search revealed the body of its mother, a swamp wallaby, both back legs shattered, her body stone cold. Must have been there all day, slowly getting colder, and now come out of the pouch in search of warmth.
What can we do? Asked Tess, knowing full well it needs special care that we can't provide.
I might know someone. Long time ago, but they might still have the resources. Not far from here. Come back to the car, and keep it warm.
We took the joey to the farm where ten years ago, I remembered, people did macropod rescue. And they were still there.
Wading our way through their various dogs (ranging from Chihuahua cross to the hugest great Dane I've ever seen) we met Jan and Peter. Jan placed the joey in a soft bag and ambled over to the garage where, to my intense surprise, they had two fully kitted out hospital grade humidicribs. Let's just get this one started up, Jan said softly, twiddling various techno dials. Just keep him warm against you, darling, there's a dear, she said to Tess, while I make up a bottle for him and wait for the crib to warm up. He's very cold, he's in danger. In the cupboard she pulled out a tin of Di-Vetelact milk powder especially for young macropods (Nope, I thought, I have lots of stuff in my cupboards, but I don't have that). Soon after, while Tess cradled the joey, Jan fed him tiny amounts of milk. He didn't eat much. I know, it's strange, Jan said to him. Not your Mum, not your home, not your milk. But it's the best we can offer you. Tonight will be the most difficult: if you make it through the night you might be right.

By then it was well dark outside. We left him with Jan who was going to stay up during the night to ensure he regained his body temperature and learned to feed.

The next day I received a text: "Our little boy has picked up well, he started sucking at 10 last night. Jan"

:-) he made it through the night :-) he made it through the night :-) he made it through the night :-)

How to stop a python eating your bantams

A large-ish python lives near our chook pens ('henhouse', for the non-Australian readers). For many years he did not eat any poultry, verified by the Battistuzzi family who kept hens here for many years and watched the python grow up. But now, he's even larger, and I have been breeding Barbu d'uccle bantams which are a much smaller breed of poultry.

It's just too tempting for him. Bigger mouth and tum + smaller birds = easy dinner pickings for the python. (Mieke pulls a sad face ... ). I don't begrudge the occasional egg, but I've lost four bantam hens and two roosters in a short space of time. But what to do? I know if we move the python, he will come back. If we move him so far away that he can't, then (a) he will spend his whole life miserably trying to return to his territory; and (b) another snake will move in (maybe a venomous one, so no thanks). And really, he has as much right to live on this land as we do. After all, he's lived here all his life, many years more than we have.

So I decided to cross breed my bantams with bigger birds in the hope that I can stay one step ahead of him, while retaining the genetic diversity of a rare breeds flock. From Cromwell Farm, a local farm specialising in rare breeds I purchased two lovely Plymouth Rock hens and two very affectionate Orpington pullets.

This Orpington pullet is very curious and affectionate

Orpington pullet number two, still a baby really (says cheep-cheep still).

A young Plymouth Rock hen

This lady is a fair bit older (maybe two years?) and shows the full plumage of the Plymouth Rock.

Yarrow bought me this pullet as a present from the markets. No idea of the breed, but nice delicate colouring. The young Barbu bantam rooster likes her as well!

So here's hoping that the flock stays well and happy ready for the laying season!

Holiday activities

As our John was on call all holidays (he occasionally takes on the temporary role of airport manager for Lismore regional airport) we couldn't go far away, or go camping, which we all would have enjoyed. But our days were pleasantly filled in and around home nonetheless. On many days John would have to inspect the airport and the runway to check for damage or incidents (a fence down and an ensuing cow on the runway would play havoc with Rex's Saab turboprop, I can tell you).

Some days I would accompany John, just for companionship. And it's interesting. I particularly enjoy spotting wildlife (all wildlife sightings have to be recorded). If I can I take photos, of course! Here's an example:

Who's that hiding in the hedge? (click for bigger)

It's me!!

Hindsight is a good thing ...

Flying fox photo by Grahame McConnell

A barbed wire encounter

John, Briony and I were walking home after the monthly music jam session, when Bri spotted a flying fox entangled in the barbed wire of a fence. The poor thing had snagged its wing on the barbs and was flapping piteously. Not being one to leave an animal suffer (especially a native species and threatened one at that), Briony tried to untangle the wing from the barbs. The bat, sensing rescue, hung on to her, so John and I stepped in to help. Briony and I held the bat while John tried to free the wing. Understandably, that would have been painful for the bat, so all three of us received a few swift penetrating bites (all things considered I thought the bat showed reasonable restraint). Didn't hurt too much: I've had kittens inflict more damage. Soon the bat was free and it struggled off into the darkness. All G, as Tess would say: the flying fox otherwise would have suffered a slow and painful death. All three of us were glad we were able to rescue it and we ambled home.

HOWEVER.

The next mornings' internet research showed me that there are several nasty viruses that can be contracted by being bitten or scratched by a flying fox, most notably the Australian Bat Lyssavirus (ABL), which is a bit like rabies. A lot like rabies, in fact, and is treated in much the same way. So now the three of us have to have immunoglobulin injections into the bite sites (that will hurt more than the original bites, I'm sure!!) as well as a course of rabies shots the coming days and weeks.

Darn. As John said "Probably would have been better to have let the blighter hanging on the fence!". But then, as Briony said to the doctor after he informed her that the inoculations would give several years' immunity against ABL and rabies "Great, now I can get to play with bats!".

All in all another adventure in the Northern Rivers...

The sad demise of Captain Rainbow

Get your hankies out, folks: this ends badly.

Our Eastern Rosella couple (the male became known to us as Captain Rainbow because of his beautiful colours) had returned to claim the nesting box as theirs once again, having bravely fought off other bird couples vying for the use of the box. It was astonishing to see how Captain Rainbow and his Missus teamed up to defend their territory, with success but often leaving them puffed out, drooped on their perch with their heads together. But they prevailed and the nesting box was deemed theirs, and the Missus started laying ... Every morning and afternoon Captain Rainbow would call her with his characteristic 'peet-piree' and they would fly off together to feed, making happy chut-chut-chut sounds as they flew. During the day he'd perch nearby and every now and then a questioning tone would emanate from the box, and he would reply reassuringly, chut-chut-chut "I'm still here my darling"..

Then this last weekend, we decided to leave the back door open during the night, as the kids were camping in the backyard in a tent and there were some storms predicted. We wanted the kids to be able to get in quickly if the weather turned bad. Normally, of course, the house is closed at night, for we won't let the cats hunt  nocturnal wildlife...

(You can see it coming)...

In the morning I walked outside to check on the kids in the tent, and saw under the house brightly coloured feathers festooning the ground, and one of our cats sitting smugly with feathers around. I recognised the feathers immediately, so with a falling spirits I checked for our Eastern Rosella couple ....  And there was only one grieving bird calling calling calling for a mate.

The past few days has taught us that it's Captain Rainbow who met a feline fate, and his Missus is still grieving for him badly. Eastern Rosellas mate for life, so this is a tragedy for the young family. I really feel for her: life will be very difficult for her now, and I feel guilty about letting the cats out this one night.

New kids on the block

We've been looking around for a new kitten, for ourselves and to help make Sunny happier again. Our dear friend Willa (who is a vet) recommended this lovely kitten through Northern Rivers Animal Services, a volunteer-run pet rescue and rehoming organisation. He was born at the carer's home in late August (the lovely carer supplied a whole CD full of kitten photos and clips!). He is Siamese in shape, jet black in colour, and he purrs constantly. We've named him India Giles Raven and he's here to stay :-)

Sunny's very happy with him and so are the girls, so to see!

Another 'new' arrival (well, appearance really) is the Eastern Rosella fledgling of the two rosellas who made their home in the nesting box I made. Unwilling to disturb the precious nest, I have resisted my burning curiosity and not looked in the box so we had no idea how successful (or not) the breeding season was for the young couple (click for previous posts).

Today Mr Eastern Rosella (we call him Captain Rainbow) the proud father was feeding his young one through the hole. I managed to get a blurry shot of the fledgling peeking out ...

Not to worry, the cats cannot reach the nesting box, and are locked up at night to help keep nocturnal native wildlife safer.

Figbird

This morning I'm marking & moderating assignments at my desk in the sunroom. Our local figbird comes for a chat, hanging out on the frangipani to see what I'm doing and to sling insults at Sunny the cat (who is asleep on my desk). Nice...

Update on Mr & Mrs Eastern Rosella

Mrs Eastern Rosella had visited her potential new home a few times, and  I noticed she came out of the box each time with a tiny scrap of hay (I had lined the box with soft hay). She would then ostentatiously throw the wee scrap out.

Obviously not her taste in furnishings.

I checked with my dear friend Giovanni who knows much about birds, and he told me that rosellas like to nest on sawdust rather than hay or grass.

So, when Mrs E.R. wasn't looking, I sent in the interior decorators in and had them remove all the offending hay and replace it with lovely sawdust from our fallen river red gum tree.

Now she's *much* happier.

Hot property inspection

Inspecting the entrance

Mr and Mrs Eastern Rosella came for a property inspection last week, to check out the new rural development.

"Romeo Romeo wherefore art thou..?"

Mrs Rosella seemed quite chuffed with the architectural design and Mr Rosella looked satisfied with the terms of agreement.

"Lovely views from here darling ..."

They said they'd let me know their decision in due course.

House for rent (free)

For rent: lovely new home with fine views

There are a zillion jobs John and I could do around here ... all varying states of urgency ... But when I saw the rainbow lorikeets hunting for a place to nest (the previous owner of this place having chopped down many beautiful trees, thus depriving them of their homes), I decided it was a matter of great urgency to build a potential home for a pair of lorikeets. I used this simple Kestrel nest box plan but adapted the size to cater for nesting lorikeets.The box is about 20 x 20 x 30 cm with a hinged top lid and a 6cm diameter entrance hole.

The only other adpatation I implemented was placing three perches which went right through to the interior of the box, which would allow fledgelings to climb out.

Now let's wait for occupants :-)

Nesting box in pine with Tung oil finish

Befriended birds in the backyard

The old big frangipani is outside my study (sunroom) window. This morning a kookaburra came and sat for a while ... and then soon after a blue-faced honeyeater came to the other side of the tree. The honeyeater kept hopping closer to the wary kookaburra, and then flitting away, and then closer ... and then deliberately hopped right up to the kookaburra and cheekily kissed him on the beak!

After that they were friends.

This morning ...

Whilst walking Chook the dog (accompanied as usual by my two affectionate familiars, Sunny the cat and Nova the perlino mare) ... I found a feather.

I wonder what sort it is ... given the long fringe / fray I thought perhaps an owl. Claudia suggested perhaps an ibis, but then reconsidered on account of its quite striking markings.

A morning guest

As the rising sun hit the house and sheds, warming the cool earth, a sleepy visitor came out of its bed to see what the chook pen had to offer.


Luckily for our hens it chose one of the pens which is vacant at the moment (though the hens do sneak in and lay their eggs there).

I'm always a bit undecided when it comes to pythons in the chook pens ... Should we remove them in case they swallow a bantam or two (as has happened before)? Or should we leave them be so that they can do their excellent job of keeping down the resident rodent population (who come to feed on the chook food and scraps).

I took the close-up photo 'specially for Kevin who, I am fairly sure, will like it. As with all photos on this blog, click to enlarge!

Anyway, we left the python be and hopefully it found a nice rat or two to eat.