Osama bin Cassowary (Sarmi in Jarmies to his friends)

 

4535246551_61426ae0f0_z

 

Re Osama bin Cassowary. He is still furious with us. We made the fatal mistake of putting out some fallen mangoes for him and the chick. Now he seems to think our role in life is to deliver to him the mangoes he richly deserves.  He ate the mangoes as they fell from the tree and he checks the sour sop and sapote trees every day. He is so grumpy and bossy. It has to be seen to be believed.

Yesterday we were driving in and we encountered them at the bottom of the 900 meter drive way. He and his chick were milling about the road – mooching calmly up the drive – stopping here and there to have a good peck at this and that. If ever we edged too close to them Osama turned, fluffed up his feathers and glared at us threateningly. He stalked towards us with tremendous attitude. His amber eyes, his long eyelashes.

We have had to hang towels over some of the windows here at the house because he picks a fight with his reflected image and whacks the windows so hard with his beak we can hear him way over the other side of the house. He rattles the rafters.

They made us follow them for almost the entire length of the drive. OLR says they were here before us so they are entitled. But we have stopped giving them fruit here at the house. I take it out and sprinkle it around the paths. They still come begging at the deck and it just breaks our hearts. Because we love them and should never have indulged ourselves by feeding them. But they had nothing to eat after the cyclone and we started then.

A Metaphor to Live By

unnamed

No time hath she to sport and play:
A charmed web she weaves alway.
A curse is on her, if she stay
Her weaving, either night or day,
       To look down to Camelot.
She knows not what the curse may be;
Therefore she weaveth steadily,
Therefore no other care hath she,
       The Lady of Shalott.
…………….
She left the web, she left the loom
She made three paces thro’ the room
She saw the water-flower bloom,
She saw the helmet and the plume,
       She look’d down to Camelot.
Out flew the web and floated wide;
The mirror crack’d from side to side;
‘The curse is come upon me,’ cried
       The Lady of Shalott.