Just Don't Call Me A Twitcher

To Australians they are commonplace – like a sparrow , a pigeon or a seagull to us Brits – but I just love watching cockatoos. The first time I encountered them I actually heard them before I saw them. I was in the garden, quietly reading a book and breathing in the glorious smell of freshly cut grass that instantly transports me to long, warm, English summer days when, screeching like a group of schoolgirls, the call of these noisy parrots shattered the peace of the morning as their voices filled the sky. Startled, I looked up and soon saw a huge flock of white-bodied, pink headed cockatoos flying overhead. Against the brilliant blue of the sky, their white bodies jumped out like chalk on a blackboard. They circled, swooped low into someone’s back yard, then scattered, resting for a moment across the lawn and on the fence. Their squawks quietened for a moment before once again they gathered, flapping their wings, and flew off, announcing their arrival to a new house with their schoolgirl chatter. They can be found everywhere here, often having mothers’ meetings on power lines, people’s drives, in the middle of the road, anywhere with space for a large group really. They just love to get together and have a good old chinwag.

They are not the only birds I’ve seen without having to leave my back garden. Another common visitor is a little yellow-headed, green-breasted, grey-feathered bird – there are dozens of them and they call to each other with a lilting whistle rather like a robin, very sweet and far less abrasive than the cockatoo’s screech. I’m still not sure what this little bird is but I am determined to find out.

Oh dear. See what lack of adequate entertainment has done to me? I’ve turned into a bird-watcher. I just spent the past half an hour searching the internet to see if I can identify the yellow and green bird and I’m actually, seriously, thinking about investing in a pair of binoculars. I’ve only been here a month – what am I going to be like in a year? Wearing a cagoule as a fashion item? Buying every book on birds in circulation and spending all my free time scanning the pages for species I may have seen? Thinking that an exciting day out involves sitting very still, not speaking and getting neck-ache from constant sky-gazing? Excuse me, I’m just off to put on some make-up, mix up a martini and try on every nice dress I own.