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Maree’s musings

September 23, 2019 Regular Features, September 2019 No Comments

ONE for the BIRDS

I’m probably (and hopefully) not alone in having a liking for our bird population in town. I know that can be rather a nuisance at times. If they could learn to avoid the vineyards, building nests and crapping where they shouldn’t, that would help. But they often bring joy, at least to me.

In my garden I have two hanging feed bowls for birdseed, one of those fancy pine-cone things slathered in a pot-pourri of fat, peanut butter and more birdseed, and a very classy apple-holder complete with a convenient perch. As well, there are  seven redcurrant bushes and a few cranberry shrubs which I carelessly planted under one of the birdfeeders. A garden border of strawberries too. (Note to self: think ahead when planning my next garden.)

We all know birds love bird baths and water dishes to drink from, so I’ve included three of those too. And then there’s the fishpond. Part of the morning routine involves replenishing the above. The birds are usually waiting for breakfast (that’s probably a misnomer, as they’d eat all day I reckon) and it’s only a few seconds before there’s a rush to the tuckshop. They completely ignore my cat who sits close by before grumpily giving up and coming back inside for his biscuits. Much less effort!

All this carry-on has at times inspired me to jot down a poem or two (one of my other time-wasting passions); so I thought you would like to share the ones here. For the experts, they are ‘haiku’ – which are three line verses of five, seven and five syllables, and contain a single idea. A bonus: they don’t take long to write down, though thinking them up is sometimes not so easy.



Flat green lawn. White bread

crumbs. Small brown birds. White cat crouched,

intent. Not a chance.


garden water bowl,

fresh-filled last night; today a

dish of solid ice.

birds coming to drink

or bathe, think, if they could: what’s

with this skating rink?

I’d like to wait, watch

the sparrows slip-slide across

the surface, and land

fluff-arsed backside down.

then, shaking off their shame, fly

off: into the sun.


Two magpies, in line:

on the line, and in the sun.

I smile. Two for joy.

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