The Peafowl are in the Garden!
My photos this week will take you for a walk around the country garden, "Kibbenjelok", accompanied by the peafowl and others feathered friends. The bird life in this garden is varied and plentiful. In the domestic native fowls group, classified as non native, we have not only the infamous peafowl but guinea fowl, ducks, doves and chickens. Amongst them, the only productive birds are the "chooks" - the ducks are Khaki Campbells and are now very ancient. The guinea fowls are lovely to watch and, I fear, are as stupid as the ducks. We had several successful hatchlings of ducklings, although the first family episode was rather traumatic. The mother duck had hatched her babies some distance from the house near two little ponds built for drinking water for the cattle and sheep.
One day, when the ducklings were old enough to be taken for a swim by their mother, I was looking out the window and I saw a magnificent "golden" wedge-tailed eagle flying over the area. I called to Kees and by the time we got to the scene of the crime, the eagle had returned for a second swoop. He lifted himself up from the pond as we arrived and I could see he was carrying one little golden duckling. I shouted out and the gold ball floated down to earth. We took the little body inside the house, the heart was still beating but soon after we lost the pretty baby. The following year we found not only the ducklings vanishing but a few of the mother ducks killed as well, killed by Tasmanian Devils. I now know the true meaning of "you're a sitting duck"! There are only approximately sixty pairs of wedge-tailed eagles left in Tasmania so I am philosophical about our family of eagles living amongst the gum trees on our Sugar Loaf Hill.
The female guinea fowl has sat on eggs four times and it is four very sad tales that I have to tell you. First time it was so beautiful. Many delightful tiny chicks were born under the Dahlia leaves in the front cottage garden. I watched quietly for a whole day and all seemed to be well. Second day I noticed that one little chick had been trampled on and in the afternoon, with much cackling and shrieks, the hen and cock moved them to the vegetable garden. We had to go back to town that afternoon and it was with great reluctance that I got into the car to go home, leaving the hen and cock running around the vegetable garden like demented things. I now think that what I had been watching was the cock trying to get the hen to go back to the chicks. Next weekend we found little bodies all over the cabbage patch.
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