The magpie who taps on the screen door to tell me it’s his dinnertime, while his shy little lady keeps her distance. That’s ok Miss; I have all the time in the world.
The male bowerbird who steals my blue pegs to impress the girlies. Surely he has enough by now, because I certainly don’t.
Punk-haired kookaburra dude who hogs all the mince and then brags about it, laughing long and loud for everyone to hear. He’s such a dag.
A brilliant red king parrot landing on my girlfriend’s hand to eat sunflower seed while his nervous girlfriend looks on. I wish he’d introduce us.
The baby possum I met last year who now brings her kids around for dinner. She’s lovely, and doesn’t mind at all being stroked while she eats.
A wallaby who is game enough to enter suburbia but just shy enough to not let me get too close. I’ll keep working on him – he’s worth it.
And Fred, the eastern water dragon who came for lunch and stayed for a season. I hope to see him again one day.
Acrobatic wattlebirds who feed on the bottlebrush outside my front window. For them there is no “this side up”. Clever bastards.
Sulphur-crested cockatoos; mechanical wind-up toys with attitude. They arrive in gangs and if you don’t feed them they vandalise your house. Ratbags, the lot of them.
And Mr Yin, my girlfriend’s cat. He’s converted me. I thought all cats ever did was kill the beautiful wildlife I care about – but he’s proven to be different. He can’t even get out of his own way. It’s the birds who take the piss out of him.