The Court of Kings and Crimsons
On arrival brightly coloured birds greeted us. They flew from the pressing woodland to the gutters, to the garden table and to the fresh leaved trees that hung over the cottage door. They perched in hopeful anticipation of food, leaning forward, looking down at us, checking us out. Red and green birds. Red and blue birds. Metallic blue-black birds. Beautiful birds. Against a briefly blue sky, a Blackbird sang its spring song, an invitation to some, to others a warning of possession. Its beak flared golden as the wind sheparded grey clouds across the sky. Once the clouds were gathered in, a storm would begin. Inside the cottage there were clear instructions not to feed the birds. The King Parrots stayed most of the week. The Crimson Rosellas visited most days, but never stayed long. The Satin Bowerbirds fled the garden within minutes and never returned. The cottage is chilly, it smells empty...