A bird in the hand is worth… a photo

7 o’clock in the morning is a time reserved for sleeping in my world.  So why am I awake?  And what is that noise?

Is it my imagination or did something just hit the window?

There it goes again….

It’s a bird!  And now this small, brown feathered being is sitting on a miniscule ledge, tight up against the window pane, looking directly at me and chirping loudly.

I’ve been here in Bali for a long time and no bird has ever had the audacity to wake me up quite like this before.  Roosters do, of course, but not by flying into the window!

So what’s her story, I wonder, and why am I referring to the bird as a she?

Hungry baby bird

Hungry baby bird

Oh no, the mere fact that I’m questioning means I’m not likely to sleep again… sleep again… sleep again…

Luckily I was mistaken, as I realised when I regained consciousness some 30 odd minutes later.

‘It’s still there’ I said to myself, which was a bit pointless as ‘myself’ already knew.

I lay there sandwiched between crisp white sheets pondering the purpose of this unexpected, early morning and lengthy house call.

Vivid memories flooded back reminding me of the last time a bird visited me here in, what I can only describe as, ‘a very deliberate way’ – but I’m going to save that story for another post.

This bird had done a good job of acting as an alarm clock, albeit an unwanted one, however by the time I returned from showering she had disappeared.  Or so I thought.

Sitting pretty

Sitting pretty!

Soon afterwards I popped out to take a peek at the building developments on my new house.

When I returned, there on the step was a small, brown feathered being chirping loudly.

I reached out, expecting it to fly away and, to my surprise, it didn’t.

I was able to pick it up and stroke it.  But it was obviously way too hungry for any massage – it wanted food and it needed food NOW!

Mashed papaya and a dribble of milk later it settled comfortably in my hand for the massage.

It was nice and warm snuggling neatly inside my cupped palm and even when my hand was open it still choose to stay there for minutes at a time.

Now and then it got some exercise by hopping up and down my arm, over to my shoulder, up to my head, and then down to the other side of it’s new home all the way to my leg – pooing liquidy papaya coloured dribbles as it went.

Time to change the diet, not to mention my clothes… ah yes, some mashed rice with a milk splash might do the trick.

Half the time I was actually feeding it from my fingers tips as it arched its neck backwards squawking for food that it was expecting from its absent mother – well, I suppose I was the one giving motherly love on this occasion.

A bird in the hand is worth... a photo

A bird in the hand is worth… a photo

After a full morning of feeding, watering and massaging, Bontu, as I had named her, had enough energy to explore other chairs on my balcony.

Of course it wasn’t long before she set her sights on the big wide world that is my garden.

Maybe she is still there, or perhaps she ventured further afield, I don’t know… I only know that it was wonderful to be there for her when she needed me and to let her fly away when she needed to.

Good luck Bontu!

Advertisements
Leave a comment

2 Comments

  1. Hazel Silvester

     /  03/07/2012

    How lovely Julie, we are also expecting (hopefully) a big event bore the end of July. Frenchy our ‘Cuckoo Maran’ chicken, is comfortably sitting on a clutch of eggs. Looks like she might go the distance… Baby chickens about the yard, I spy several hand feeding jobs here if this materializes
    Love from Hazel + Lance

    Reply
    • Thanks Hazel, I’ve been offline for a while over the moving-in phase, but I’m back now and with wifi instead of cable 🙂 I hope things are still looking good for Frenchy?
      Love Julie x

      Reply

Would love to hear from you...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: