It is a farm covered in curvy mountains and soft valleys.
Home is close to the edge of a cliff.
There are rock screes, giant boulders, even small precipices that Red-necked Wallabies hide under in the heat of the day.
Echidnas, kangaroos, goannas, snakes and lizards visit the house; but mostly there are birds.
I’ve loved birds since I was small.
At four I wanted to fly like a bird; to be a bird. I thought if I wished hard enough I could fly into the sky with the rainbow birds.
Freezing my toes in winter, I would go out at first light to see Pee-wees dancing on the lawn.
I laughed with Kookaburras chuckling on the fence. I’d watch Blue Wrens rock back to sleep with heads beneath their wings; bedazzled as they shook themselves awake, looked about and flew away.
It was worth getting in trouble for going outside on my own.
Always worth it to catch those early birds.
I remember the shadow of a Royal Albatross hovering over the cruise ship all the way to New Zealand. This enormous bird sat in the sky without flapping once. Floating above the main deck while I was floating in the pool, the bird looked down at me as I looked up at it. A weird avian connection.
The ship’s captain also had Budgerigars. Flying out of their cage, they circled the deck each day we were at sea. At only six years old these birds made a big impression.
Where I live now is a farm that is a haven for wildlife.
Birds flock to my house and garden.
They feast on the native hop bushes and the Wonga Vine that carpets the escarpment next to the house.
Birds sing in each new day, and tweet their goodnights at each sunset.
All my life I have been a bird-watching bird lover.
Where I live is a good place to be.