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needed some injections - money, fans and controversy. Not necessarily in that order.) against Collingwood Magpies. Magpies here can be vicious - they tend to swoop during nesting season. They are large birds, carrion/carnivores. Well, when I say large, large for your average suburban backyard. I'm not talking vulture size here, nor even that of a largish chook. Just imagine a bantam chook with attitude and an ability to soar. A black and white version of a crow, in fact. Well, Collingwood lost by 50 points, which is a huge margin for AFL footy. They had what was called the "Collywobbles". (Magpie Photos)

For all that, magpies carolling in the morning are beautiful. Wonderful parents, too, with the teenagers also helping to raise the young. Extended family, you see. Very territorial, though. And, like crows, they are a smart bird. Some have even been domesticated. I believe they also can do imitations - like mynah birds. I remember a bloke over in Adelaide had a crow he'd brought up from fledgling. It was amazing. It could bark, which puzzled the dog no end, miaow, and whistle like many another bird. I'm sure it did this for the amusement and the shock value.

In our own backyard, we have swallows, who usually fly to the top of the hoist, and then flit around for insects, our mudlarks are successfully nesting in the top of the one of the gumtrees (last year the nest was blown over in a fierce wind, and the eggs lost), and we still see occasional goldfinches. The sparrows and starlings are in profusion. We also have a visiting raptor, but I haven't taken the time and trouble to work out what it is through one of the identification guides available. I believe it is a falcon, but I could well be mistaken. Rosellas, in all their beauty, and grass parrots, who appreciate (?) it when I whistle back to them. (Bullers Bird Park 2) (Burke's Backyard)

Oh, sorry. "The hoist" refers to the Hills Hoist, invented by a South Australian bloke quite some years ago, because his wife's washing line kept dropping into the dirt. he didn't invent the rotary clothes line, but the accompanying blurb will tell you more.

Our first gosling hatched out the other night, and promptly died. Mama goose was attacked, but we are not sure if it was the local fox, or Fred, who has been able to escape and is looking very sorry for himself. He has not been eating the last few days, and has had the occasional foodless vomit, and given that goose eggs are pretty rich fare, it wouldn't surprise either Brian or me as to the cause. Aaron, whose dog Fred is, may well be taking him to the vet. ASAP. It's something I have recommended in case there is something more seriously wrong. Mama goose is OK.

It has been hailing rather fiercely as I write today (Monday night) and I am very grateful for a nice warm fire.

Here it is, Thursday already. The weather has been doing its "four seasons in one day" bit again, and that's been every day. The only thing with which we are not blessed is snow. Where you live, you would probably consider it quite mild, but the wind has more bite than a jalepeno pepper.

Fred died. Of what, we are not sure. His faeces had a couple of worms in them, so perhaps it was a more powerful infestation. The other dogs, the daschies, have not had any problems, so I don't know what's going on. Just in case, I dosed them with a deBaircli Levy mix of oatmeal, honey, garlic, cod liver oil, tabasco sauce, slippery elm, and anything else I could lay my hands on. I'll be watching them very closely in the next few days, and whereas, Fred was not our dog, these two are, and are so very precious to me.

One of the geese this morning was eating two of her eggs, ones that were not fertile. The smell was a little on the nose, and I presume that is at least one way that she knew they were not viable.

I have taken to putting my name forward as a Mystery Shopper, as I am quite good at report writing, have had many long years in retail and wholesale, customer-oriented businesses, and have a good idea as to what is acceptable to the customer and what should be hit on the head. Last night, through the Internet, I joined up with a few firms, and have had one small job today, which will help keep the wolf from the door. I enjoy shopping, and we have the bonus that we are near a large major regional centre. I also enjoy restaurant meals, so these, of course, are included in the tasks.

I don't know whether I have shared this with you or not, but when I have things to soak, I use a large, clean plasterer's bin, and agitate with a very large plunger (seven inch diameter across the outside of the cup), which works a treat.

We have very large wheelie bins for our garbage collection. Due to the nasties that we often have to be rid of, including doggie do, I have taken to using a garbage bin liner of the appropriate size. The other problem was that not everything was being emptied out of the bin each week, because it would get jammed down the bottom of the bin, as it had a tapered shape. I had problems with the liner, being slippery plastic, sliding down inside the bin. I found that (after some trial and terror) using very large, heavy duty doona pegs from the clothes line and fixing the bags to a lip on the underside of the bin has done the job.

Some days

There are days

when I can't be bothered.

Another death, more mess,

whatever.

It's raining like it's never going to stop. Ever.

I have more dirty clothes piled up.

And my self-image is battered by that cold, cold mirror.

But then a new day dawns -

a friend calls, expresses love

an e-mail, unexpected, but wanted for all that.

New life, optimistic in its power.

and people around me, who buffer me

protect me, help me smile.

The smile continues when I watch my animals,

or see my daughter, my husband, my friends.

And the rain stops,

and the heart glows,

and life, as it will, goes on.

Zeke

Dominus tecum.

Leonie