Remember that young lorikeet that Carl rescued after a storm? It looks like Lori, as he is known, is with us for life.
Carl’s original plan was to keep him until his tail feathers grew back but further research has revealed that some young lorikeets never do grow tail feathers. They inevitably end up on the ground after an attempt to fly, where they get eaten by dogs, cats, snakes and other exotic local wildlife.
Lori was clearly waiting for this fate when found by Carl. Since then, he’s demonstrated his low rating on the Darwinian scale by escaping from his cage, climbing the nearest tree, and then plummeting to the ground, so far without damage. He always will fly like a brick, it seems, so had better resign himself to living with Carl and being supplied with flowers from our gravilias. Parrots of all kinds love the nectar.
Monday, March 26, 2007
Friday, March 23, 2007
Mower Meets Meter
Been a quiet time on this blog and I’m not sure why. Possibly because of my policy of not blogging unless I really want to say something or possibly because I wanted to avoid a series of entries like “not much happened today, really.” I suppose the two are the much the same thing. Anyway, last night, I destroyed our water meter with the motor mower.
Some cultural pointers are needed here to avoid me appearing a complete idiot, I feel. Water meters in Australia are outside your house, usually on the horizontal part of an inverted U of the water pipe sticking up above the ground. The stop-cock is also on this flimsy pipe so any passer-by can turn off your water if they wish, as a jolly prank, though they seem not to.
Ours emerges from a lush bed of buffalo grass and I still maintain the mower blades were nowhere near when the meter disintegrated in a shower of plastic, metal and dials, all hoisted into the air by a jet of water. The mower is fine, thanks.
The interesting thing about this is that a very friendly bloke from Coffs Harbour Water rolled up in a ute around three-quarters of an hour after my call and just as I finished the lawn, fitted a new meter in five minutes and left with the bits of the old one in a bag. This bearing in mind that, in UK terms, we live in the back of beyond. I then had a much-needed shower. Truly this is the lucky country.
Some cultural pointers are needed here to avoid me appearing a complete idiot, I feel. Water meters in Australia are outside your house, usually on the horizontal part of an inverted U of the water pipe sticking up above the ground. The stop-cock is also on this flimsy pipe so any passer-by can turn off your water if they wish, as a jolly prank, though they seem not to.
Ours emerges from a lush bed of buffalo grass and I still maintain the mower blades were nowhere near when the meter disintegrated in a shower of plastic, metal and dials, all hoisted into the air by a jet of water. The mower is fine, thanks.
The interesting thing about this is that a very friendly bloke from Coffs Harbour Water rolled up in a ute around three-quarters of an hour after my call and just as I finished the lawn, fitted a new meter in five minutes and left with the bits of the old one in a bag. This bearing in mind that, in UK terms, we live in the back of beyond. I then had a much-needed shower. Truly this is the lucky country.
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