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Monday, October 19, 2015

It's not about the Beef, it's all about the Bullshit!

I watched a Myna Bird ferociously scare an Ibis away from the cat’s food bowl yesterday. The silly cat just sat watching them both from a distance with a feeble look on her face, her whiskers trembling in vulnerable pathos. Bloody cat.

The Ibis was four times the size of the Myna Bird and the cat is bigger than both of them put together, but that diminutive bird was like a winged demon from hell, squawking and flapping its feathers at them between casual beakfuls of delicious, salmon flavoured, Fancy Feast biscuits.

This enlightening scene cemented a suspicion I’ve held for quite some time now. It’s the ashmoles (code word for arseholes) who have the loudest mouths and most aggressive, brash personalities that get to the lofty positions in this world.

Scotto and I have recently discovered the pleasures of sitting on our front patio, overlooking the river and watching the wildlife. Our real estate agent, Nettie, donated a natty little table and chairs for display purposes. 

Why, in thirteen years, it never occurred to me to install such eloquence is beyond me, but there you go. I'm an idiot.

In the last few weeks I’ve grown to really appreciate the bird life in the vicinity.

Those bastard Myna Birds are the workplace ashmoles, I'm telling you.

From my experience, the people who aren’t afraid to complain for fear of upsetting someone, the self-centred narcissistic bullies, are very often the winners in this world.

Bugger the whole ‘meek shall inherit the Earth’ stuff. Most meek and humble people I know are invisible and it’s the strident ones with the false sense of entitlement who get the most attention.

It doesn’t matter a hoot if the humble soul is a quiet achiever who doesn’t make a fuss about their personal successes; ninety per cent of the time they won’t be noticed (yep, made that statistic up).

So often, it seems to be the antagonistic bully who manages to knock all the other birds to the bottom of the cage with their hostile screeching, then rise to the top rung of the cage. 

There you have it:  Mr. Myna Fudger Bird.

We often laugh at the Rainbow Lorikeets, who represent the raucous, uncouth teenagers, drunk on bottle brush nectar. 

The Rainbow Lorikeets despise the Myna Birds... but aren’t afraid of them either. They’re the happy drunks who don’t give a toss about the bullies, too busy enjoying their own social lives. Stupified in their own hedonistic ways... like footy fanatics at a Manchester United game (or fifty-five year old women whose kids have all left home).

Then, of course, there are the Pigeons. The homeless down and outs who resort to building nests in the air-conditioners because they can’t afford a tree. They're despised for their prolific tendency to breed and their unimaginative, drab fashion sense. Labelled the rats of the sky, they are the lowest on the birdie rungs.

The Ibis are the jocks. They have no brains or savvy, just really big… beaks, and a whole lot of bulk. They spend their time hanging out on powerlines and back-dooring the cat.

The plovers never shut up the fudge up. You can hear them screaming out to their babies to, “Get the fudge home you little shit! I told you to be home before dark! Get in the bath you little fudger!” 

Fiercely protective and vociferous, you don’t want to get on the wrong side of a Plover though.

Occasionally Scotto and I will spot a weeny little silver sparrow on the lawn. They're harmless, bland, little critters, and it's unlikely they’ll ever make a huge mark on the world. 

But even so, they have their place in the environment.

I like to think I’m a Sparrow.

Sparrows derive power and protection in numbers. They draw contentment from being in a cluster which can be quite intimidating to some would-be predators.
The Sparrow is always busy foraging for her nests, and gathering for her young chicks. Fastidious and super productive, the Sparrow is a reminder that idle hands should be avoided in order to live a full life. 

Sparrows just keep on trying.
The trouble is though, the Common Myna is an accomplished scavenger, feeding on almost anything, even fledgling sparrows.

(If you think there's a deeper meaning behind this birdy post, you'd be right.)

Which bird do you relate to?

Silly cat doing its annoying kneading thing on my lap instead of chasing fudging Myna Birds.

Linking up with Jess from Essentially Jess for #IBOT