A Near Disaster.

The daily existence of every bird is a remote and bewitching mystery. ~Thomas Wentworth Higginson

Down the south side of our house we have run a bush house. From the laundry door there runs a brick path that spreads under the clothes line & at the end of the path are the trees: malaluka & a big widow~maker, a bush apple that occasionally gets small bitter fruit & the small iron barks.  It is here, in the open spaces, our curlews can often be found.

Down the sides of the bush house are  the rows of hanging orchids, the tubs of water &  large white buckets the MOTH uses to propagate his lotus & water lilies. Occasionally we find the curlews drinking from the tubs but now, in September, it is getting hot.  The usual ground puddles have all dried up & the curlews have chicks.  I hadn't yet got around to putting out a low shallow bowl of water & this morning CG began screaming for me to come quick. One of the chicks had managed to fall into a tub of water but was completely incapable of getting out again though it had managed to hook its wings over the rim.

Meanwhile dad was hissing & spitting , wings spread aggressively wide while CG dithered. *sigh* They make a lot of noise on occasion but they aren't really aggressive so I ignored dad's shenanigans, scooped bubs up & popped him down on the ground to peep for mum. A very relieved little family gathered round the sodden one & they headed back to their spot under the trees to hiss & spit some more at CG.

I have put out water for them & a disaster has been neatly averted.