the faerie embassy makes a call

 

 

  It is time to honour all that is and all that can be.

 It is time to act courageously with passion on behalf of all those that have no voice in our ‘human world’

 The insects, the flyers, the swimmers, the four leggeds, the rocks, the trees, the crawlers….

 

The Faerie Embassy acknowledges the voice of all relations that dwell in this forest and on this earth…….

 

brush tailed possum, ringtail possum, sugar glider, red wallaby, swamp wallaby, grey kangaroo, goanna, lizard, bandicoot, red belly black snake, diamond python, rabbit, bat, frog, cricket, butterfly, mosquito, moth, rabbit, wombat, echidna, mouse, bush rat, fox, hen,grubs, spider, cicada, tick, leech…….

 

                                           AND

 

Superb blue Wren, Kookaburra, Grey Fantail, Rufous Whistler, Bowerbird, Wood duck, Crested Shrike -tit, Yellow Robin, Crimson Rosella, Magpie, Finch, Warbler, Honeyeater, Quail, Channel billed Cuckoo, Wonga Pigeon, Silver eye, Noisy Friarbird, Wattlebird, Finch, Currawong, Eagle, Olive-backed Oriole, Firetail, Eastern Spinebill, Black-faced Cuckoo-shrike, Fork-tailed Swift, Dollarbird, Gang-gang cockatoo, Galah, White-headed pigeon, Grey goshawk, Whip Bird, Sacred Kingfisher, Restless Flycatcher, Leaden flycatcher, Cuckoo Dove, Bronze Winged Pigeon, Peaceful Dove, King Parrot, Boobook Owl, Butcherbird, Topknot Pigeon, Raven, Thornbill, Tree creeper, Tawny Frogmouth, Welcome Swallow, Grey Shrike -thrush, Yellow Tail Cockatoo, Glossy Black Cockatoo, Common Bronzewing, Brown hawk…….

 

 

                                           AND

 

wattle, eucalyptus, casuarina, wild cherry, angophora, red gum, maiden hair fern, kurrajong, titree, stringy bark, black box, grey box, bloodwood, tree fern, orchid, epiphytes, cutty grass, wonga berry vine, hardenbergia, kangaroo grass, wild raspberry, blackberry, white thornbush, geebung, pea flower, herb, weed, worm, beetle, caterpillar, fungi, damp, decomposing matter, snail, turtle, water dragon, perch, eel, rock, crystal, lichen, moss, flower, rain forest, water, soil, sun, moon, mist, starlight, clouds, rain,spider webs, rainbows…….

 

                                         AND

 

energy, space, fairy, dryad, nymph, sprite, pixie, spirit, angel, deva…….

 

                                          AND

 

 creatures bounding, scurrying hopping leaping climbing soaring ,branches creaking, bees buzzing, birds singing calling , stillness, the breath of old trees, the caress of spirit, commonsense,the footsteps of the Ancestors, the beacon of the future, the Yowie, sacred law, the laughter of children, the nations first peoples, the joys of human, the void,……. 

 

the faerie embassy gives thanks to All of the above

and to the  unknown…….

 

 

the light of day

 

I have been waiting for the muse for a while – yep close to a month since I last ventured forth

and then I thought I would put out some stories that for some reason or another didn’t hold up to the light of day

and so as darkness falls here and the night comes closer

I offer a story called

 

 

The light of day

 

Dawn snuck into my room jumped up and down on my bladder and pulled me into awareness.

to my reckoning it was still dark.

Go away I murmured.

I am snuggly.

I am dreaming .

the urgency increased and I was forced to get up.

The grass was wet underfoot and from a squat I raised my head to the star-studded cast of players in the sky.

Almost a blush, a hint of light but not really enough to take it seriously, I returned to my nest of sleepy warmth.

But the scout heralding dawn had already snatched me from the dream and there was no return.

 

I listened then –  wondering if anyone else was awake –  and very faintly heard a few soft tentative tweets.

then a melody rippled thru the air and into my bedroom leaving me in no doubt that day was on its way.

the ancient song of awakening as channeled by the magpies.

It seems that we get so caught up in  indigenous  sovereignty and rights of humans that we forget all that has occurred to make this world absolutely and perfectly suitable for our existence.

 

We have become  so enthralled in the human story that we disregard the forms that birthed us onto the planet.

consider the genesis of oxygen ,the division of the cell,  the chlorophyll molecule

from an inhospitable environment human wise so many things had to happen for us to be able to live here.

And in the grand scheme of the birth of life onto this earth we have only been here a very short while.

 

Walter Boles from the Australia Museum unearthed fossil bones in south-east Queensland of a song bird that has given rise to the notion that songbirds were singing on this continent 54 million years ago and that the present day magpie is its offspring.

what else can I do but get up and join in to one of the most remarkable moments of the day.

The sun clearing the curvature of the earth and casting its light onto our dark world.

 

Suddenly the orchestra swells to include the grey shrike thrush ,butcher bird , yellow robin, whip bird, the wren that will later skip about on our verandah picking up crumbs, eastern spinebills wattle bird – they all have a voice at dawn.

 

The faded wishy-washy colour in the sky crystallizes into a searing blue of possibilities and continuance. Dogs from neighbouring farms stir rattle their chains and cough off the night. Cars trucks bikes start up and the world begins.

 

I am standing out side the kitchen watching the glimmers of light fade up and the stars recede until there is only a sickle moon next to Venus and Jupiter in the northeast.

They are brilliantly lit in the suns beam and blink out even as I watch.

In houses all over this land alarms ring kettles are switched on, radios tuned in, the morning show on tele, cupboards open to reveal cornflakes and muesli, toasters pop up, drinks are stirred, showers turn on, instructions are shouted and children and adults move into their day.

And even though I have watched this particular show before, even though I have seen the pinks and butter yellows sweep onto the palette and even though I have heard the dawn chorus a zillion times I am still gob smacked

I am still in awe – this show that repeats itself every morning but is never ever the same.

 

I cannot contain it, nor write it nor draw it. It will not be captured except in some Clayton’s version of the real thing.

And the beauty of the moment is that if I care enough I can rise again and play a part tomorrow morning in this award winning drama.

But  even if I don’t

it continues to do its thing anyway

…….

 

 

 

 

 

A hollow is not an empty space –

 

spring notes

 

Stepping out side at night I hear the thumps and bounds of wallabies as they push away from my presence. In the gloaming they will twitch an ear, pause in chewing and watch me closely as I pick thyme and rosemary in the garden , empty the teapot of its leaves or pick a lemon .

The swamp wallaby is known to be a shy creature and it has taken many years for them to hold still with us around but something about the dark hours sends then scattering in all directions.

‘its only me’ I call out but they have moved deeper into the forest and will wait until I have returned inside to my lit castle. They are full of belly with babies and young ones frolicking  with games played and my herb garden shorn closely to the ground.

 

           Already the goannas have got out of bed after their big long winter sleep – a big fella some 2 metres long clambered up onto the kitchen verandah yesterday having a look around . John yelled out ‘is the door shut ? ’ . It was. We had one in the house one time and it was a devilish task getting it back out. We used one of the dogs bones to wave under its nose which it had pressed up against our glass windows in the living room moving its head back and forth trying to understanding this obstacle. You don’t want to get anywhere near their claws which are several inches of sharpness or their long tail that can whip about very quickly.

           Researchers believe now that goannas do have oral venom glands and so a bite could be a nasty business. The good thing is that so far we are not on their list of prey. They are scavengers eating small mammals birds lizards snakes – they also clean up anything left dead in the forest and  sometimes you may see a goanna on the roadside face buried into a roadkill. Eggs are a favourite which makes them hated by all birds in the forest who have a special goanna call and swoop them repeatedly pecking at their tough ole leathery skin.

           This fella watched John detail the car yesterday from the safety of the trunk of its home tree – an angophora some 15 metres high in which it has a hollow apartment up near the top. Their long claws grasp the trunk and they can literally hang on for ages.They use their long forked tongue to sniff out the air and we have seen them wrestle food bigger than their mouths – apparently their lower jaw unhinges but it looks a bit like they toss their head around over and over until the food goes down. After some time watching  the goanna gave a few harsh hissing sounds at which point John walked over to the trunk and hissed right back.

well that sorted something out I guess.

 

            last night the boo book owl marked the night. Boo book is the call though some hear woo hoo or mo poke and it can make 20 calls in under a minute. Aahh we say the boo book is out and about  tonight and a gladness steals thru our bones. This is one of the smallest owls in this country and its colour ranges  the shades of brown with grey and white markings out of which startled yellow eyes peer. The night is its friend and with powerful silent wing beats it strikes – feasting on rats birds beetles moths spiders frogs bats .Like the goanna it too nests in a hollow high up more often than not in an angophora.

 

 A top bar hive has moved into the garden standing proudly in  front of a grevillea hedge . This year was named as the year of the hive by John and as we approached spring he realised he had to pull his finger out and make it happen. We have had hives here long past when children were small and energy was high – along with chooks geese and guniea pigs -along with pigs goats orchards and vines. Way back in the time of starry eyed plans of sustainable living. Nowadays we plunder the wire netting from the chook yard for other projects – the bee boxes are stacked up in the shed and/or we find other uses for them and the wattles have taken over the orchard.

Aaahhh but we all remember the taste of our honey and the waxy chewing gum.

      This is a more bee friendly hive resembling the Kenyan model -lovingly and painstakingly built by John over many days and weeks- now it is waiting for the swarm that has been ordered.

        Australia has about 1500 native bee species of which 10 are stingless and we do have a little 3-5mm black stingless bee living here. It too enjoys  the hollows of our trees. I am looking to identify how many other species of native bee call this forest home.

 

 Jess sang out – a dead silver eye lay on the verandah with not a mark on it. ‘It must have crashed into the window’ I said as I cradled it gently and reverently in my hands. Funny these hands are old and wrinkled now worn of long use and inlaid with black – dirt that does not wash out anymore. Once I scrubbed and scoured until the realisation came that I am returning to the Earth even as this little bird has done.

      More formally their name is white eye because of a conspicuous circle of white around their pupil. Off setting the white circle is a ring of black against an olive green head and grey to buff underbelly. At only 11 -13mm they are eye catching and delightful flocks in the garden. Their nest is a teeny basket made of grass moss hair and woven with spider web suspended from  a branch  sometimes as high as five metres up. I see the nest when a wind brings it to the ground. They feed on insects berries fruit and nectar especially loving fig season – when the figs are big enough they are able to hop inside them and eat them out.

       I hand the silver eye over to Kingston and he cries as he holds it . The learning of death comes hard to us all and this is a beginning of that journey for him. After a while he spots an empty pot on the steps of the verandah. Whatever plant was in it has long been wallaby eaten and now there is only a ceramic bunny rabbit with a red ribbon around its neck left. Gently he eases it in and calls on the bunny to take care of it until he next comes down to visit.

‘The eagle wont get it ’ he asks all bottom lip quivery and eyes shining tears.

I have looked and it is still there though collapsing further and further ..

 

belonging means to be rightly placed – in the old English it means ‘at hand , together with’ and I feel like I belong here with silver eye and goanna with wallaby and angophora.

 

to practice belonging I watch I listen I breathe

and I follow

…….