Plover – Daily Object Writing – Jan 21
Jan 21st, 2010 | By admin | Category: Daily WritingTall thin spindly legs pad about on a concourse of grass near the waters edge- their territory, probably a mum and a dad. A tuft of white with patches of brown and a yellow beak, in constant contact via walkie talkie- bird walkie talkie that is. It’s a shrill alarm, a repetitive chatter, stay off our territory. Been skimmed and bombed by them at other times, swooping in silent, like that time at Phillip Island as we did the walk from the inlet to Rhyll. It was a bit blustery, not exactly the hottest day of the year- but good weather for walking- we’d done the 3 kilometers from the inlet and reached apron of grass, and we heard them, sort of like a seagull call, but more rapid, like they were trapped inside a sampler and someone was bashing on the keyboard. We were trapsing through the medium grass along the edge between the developed world and the sea. Westernport stretched away to the left, the sea choppy and grey, bearded with white caps, slowing the progress of an oil tanker through the straight. We hear them and then there’s a swoop. I duck involuntarily as it attacks, a surge of adrenaline tinged with a dose of fear What the…..
Its like being swooped by magpies, they’re territorial, these big bodied bumble bees of the bird world. You hear nothing until those last few flaps of their wing as they try to peck grab hold of the top of your scalp and haul you away. For some reason this sound of wind coming through their wings reminds me of swimming underwater, that same action. I’m an underwater diver, straining to reach the other side before my lungs turn into volcanos. Sliding through the water gracefully one hopes, but probably its more of a struggle to just stay under the water- was last time I tried. Pressed in on every side by a Guantanamo of water, trapped under the surface, drowning water-boarding my way to the other side…..
