I love birds. I wish I could fly. My whole life I've had wonderful flying dreams ... strangely, my best flying dreams happened during my darkest days. I think my soul was trying to escape. It was years into adulthood before I discovered that everybody had their own individual methods and techniques of flying in their dreams. Some just jump and soar straight away. Some have to jump off things to do it. Every time I told people my technique, they laugh. I guess it's very - distinctive.
I have to stand perfectly still, and start flapping my arms up and down. Slowly, then faster and faster. Slowly I start rising up, hovering above the ground. And here's the annoying part .... there is ALWAYS someone who wants to pull me down. Always. Sometimes people I know, often people I don't. Just "baddies."
If the baddies don't grab my leg and drag me down, I build up speed and just fly up and away, and can stop flapping and fly so fast, so high.
So. I love birds. I think souls of people can come down and fly around in them for a while. They just seem so mystical and knowing. We get a lot of birds where we live. Dave always wants to feed them, I didn't for a long time. Too scared of bird flu. Did you know that there is ALWAYS something to be scared of? It's exhausting.
Last week I went outside and there was this kookaburra sitting on the new fence that Dave built for our passionfruit vine. (I showed him my vlog a while back, he now loves them just as much as me. But says he *always* has loved them. And looked at me accusingly, like, I had stolen his passionfruit love?! Because, you know, it's a COMPETITION.)
I was feeding the dog some chicken wings, and just chucked one at Mr Kookie. Just to see what he would do.
Years ago at a campsite our friend Rog was cooking bacon on a frypan and a kookaburra swooped down and stole the boiling hot bacon, straight from the pan. Cheeky little bugger.
They carry their food in their strong beaks ... and bash the crap out of it against the ground. Mr Kookie spent AGES killing his chicken wing.
Here I took a shot of me watching the kookaburra. It was supposed to be artistic and inspiring, but I just look tired. At the exact moment I snapped this photo, Max came outside, saw me, sighed, and went back inside without saying a word.
Mr Kookie was VERY busy.
I went back inside for a while, and when I came out I saw this.
I love birds, but when it comes to kookaburras, I just don't get what's so funny. Shut UP, stupidhead. It feels like they are laughing AT ME. Maybe it's acid paranoia flashbacks, I'm not sure. I went inside, ignoring them all. They all stayed there looking at me for ages. One would peck at the window, try to get my attention. Another would fake-swoop the kitchen, scare the crap out of me. Alfred Hitchcock eat your heart out.
Go away Kookies .... no soup for you.
Finally they all gave up ... except one. He stayed there for two days, in hope. You can see him on the fence, hungrily watching Rocco eat his dinner.
Rocco's all, I don't give a shit how many birds there are. Nobody is getting their dirty beaks into my pizza.
UPDATED TO ADD: Enquiring minds need to know - how do you fly in your dreams?