That time of Year
Being as close to and surrounded by Nature as we are, it’s a treat to watch the gradual slide from one season to the next. I don’t mean summer, fall, winter, spring; I mean, for instance, the January/February black cockatoo season. You should see and hear the cacophonous feeding that goes in our pines followed by raucous and drunken swooping from tree to tree.
As the weather becomes colder and even frosty, the local livestock grow wooly coats, much like the way a man grows facial hair on a holiday weekend. Funnily, even the landscape starts to look bristly and tufted,too, as you can see in the accompanying photo.
Now, life is quickening in trees and shrubs on our island, even though officially we have five weeks of winter to go. The frangipanis are starting to surge and bulge with sap; the bulb plants are showing the way for the rest of the flower pack; and the wattle is so luxuriant and bright it fairly jumps out at you on Rainforest Drive.
The other morning I heard what I though was mournful lowing on Farmer Scott’s next-door property, but there weren’t any cows to be seen. Then, it occurred to me that maybe all the noise was celebratory, not sad at all. It turns out it’s calving season. And here is the proof.
Well, there is one sad part of the story. These are not dairy cows.