Our neighbourhood parrot..
Rose bay willow herb is impressive enough when drifts of it take over slopes of the Common. But when it has finished flowering and with its upright spikes, sere and ochre, in their close ranks, covered in downy seeds, it has a restrained distinction, missing in its frisky youth. This becomes more dramatic when the drifts are in the shade and the breeze lifts the seeds and carries them into the sun, where suddenly you can see them soar like insects hurrying off "on urgent voluntary errands".
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It is that sort of day. By late afternoon, the sun is already lower in the sky than we have been used to, and when it comes from behind a cloud, it illuminates a table of people outside a cafe with a theatrical light. And perhaps, because the sun has been behind cloud most of the day, the group, suddenly cheered by the sun, relax and begin to laugh and chatter in a theatrical way.
4 comments:
If crows see in color, and there is debate on that, what must they think upon spying your neighbor's parrot?
"Duffy, did you hear that hubristic fop squawking his head off this morning?"
"Hear him?! Not only heard him, gov, was almost blinded by that Joseph's coat he had on. Never saw anything so profoundly outrageous in my whole life."
The next several minutes are spent in crow-chortles and parrot-disparaging caws.
:)
He really is rather gorgeous, the blue and yellow ones are most certainly my favourites, though I quite like the African greys with that splash of red, they've got class.
I love that perfect little theatrical scene, such a neat moment all encapsulated like that. Gestalt. Is that the right use of that word? I often wish I could write better about the effects of light.
... causing a heartfelt sigh of relief from the cafe owner as the customers say, "Just one more cake wouldn't harm."
It is not only the colours of the parrot which seem so incredible - also the sheer size which is wonderfully well conveyed in the crop. In the parrot world he must be something of a Freddy Flintoff.
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