I've declared it Spring. Don't bother with calendars. After freezing rain lashed us last weekend I opened the back door to a slightly milder feel this week. The almond trees have again put on a magnificent display of blossom and waft you with fragrance as you walk past. The chickens are starting to deliver eggs again after a seriously long period of unauthorised absence. The familiar garden birds that whip in and around the trees are now seen with twigs in beaks for nest making and major home renovations. The first year we were here we heard a fluttering of wings coming from the chimney in the bedroom. This is a chimney that's been sealed up for years. The fluttering was a bird no doubt -we thought it was caught in there. Unfortunately that's the sound we hear at this time every single year. It's Starling nest building time. Probably my least favourite bird those darling Starlings crap all over the front of the house and windows, and have the cheek to set up a nest in the same place every year. We go from the sound of mad fluttering wings, most likely the sound of the kids rumpus room being installed, to the sound of cheep, cheep, cheep as little beaks demand food from the warmth and comfort of a fully converted Victorian chimney. The cheep sounds drive Max crazy. He sits there staring at the fireplace wondering if they are going to burst through at any minute. The smartest thing to do would be to wait until they are old enough to move out, get their licence or whatever, and seal it up. Easier said than done with an old verandah that contains enough entry points for an entire village of indoor/indoor Starling retreats. Sometimes you just have to live with nature. A just wish it would stay out and be with nature rather than bringing it indoors sometimes. Nature owes me a lot of unpaid rent. Don't get me started on Possum.
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