![]() We’re pretty certain they’re nesting in one of the golden canes that line our back fence. Mr and Ms Willie are living in our back yard. Like much of Australian birdlife they are exceptionally vulnerable to marauding cats. Willies often hunt at night and flutter close to the ground flushing up insects to eat. I hate it when I find a pile of black and white feathers on the ground and it pisses me off that people don’t keep their cats in at night. They remind me of a little old men dressed in a tuxedos. I love the little white eyebrows above their gleaming black eyes. I love their black feathers and tail and their white breasts. I love the way they dance and spin above the ground to flush out insects. Willie Wagtails are one of my favourite birds. Maybe a cat foraging through the early morning… This morning a wattle bird breaks the tranquilty with its rusty hinge screech…something has disturbed it. The butch is further off, his song is clear melodious fluting…startling pure piping tones off in the distance. Lately, in the early morning the butcher bird joins in. ![]() He twitters and scrapes in the backyard outside our window, a sweet song that reminds me of cold clear water washing over stone. When there’s a full moon, Willy sometimes sings through out the night. ![]()
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