A house for their roost

The pigeons and ibises of Bankstown have chosen a house for their roost and there is no other house in the suburb that will do instead. Today, for example, there were twenty three pigeons on the roof and five or six ibises (one was in flight). Tomorrow I am imagining fifty or sixty pigeons (since tomorrow is Saturday), and on Sunday a wedding of cockatoos or at least a fight. If you don't believe me, catch a bus down MacAuley Avenue and look to other side from the park. I have never seen a bird of colour on that roof, however. No matter that the inhabitants of Bankstown speak many more languages than the whole of Europe, the lorikeets and rosellas keep to the trees.

In my place

All the time, sitting here looking out at the quiet of the country, I could be easily convinced that the beings there (the cows, the birds, the flies) are looking in at me, or if not (because they have so many better, more important things to do), have at least looked at me, heard me or smelt me once, and in a single, short moment, dismissed me.