Fancy That!


Something hit me yesterday, totally out of the blue. I had become a bird fancier. I looked up the definition of a bird fancier, and it said someone who is interested in birds. Now, I didn’t intentionally become one. It struck me yesterday afternoon when Aunty Francis, who is visiting us in Noosa at the moment, pointed out some Rainbow Lorikeets in the trees out the front of our apartment.

“Aren’t they amazing?” I agreed with her. I felt a warm sense of connection with nature, and then I thought “HOLY FUCK WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO ME!”

Earlier in the day we had eaten a long lunch at a restaurant in Noosaville and we were waiting for the ferry to collect us to deliver us back into Noosa proper. The grown ups in our group were admiring the magnificent pelicans floating around.

“Aren’t they magnificent!” Mum proclaimed, and I dead set could not agree with her more. With their huge bodies, they were still able to appear elegant, something I could only envisage myself to be in my dreams.  Huge and elegant. Never going to happen, which is why I have banned myself from those fancy, cramped expensive home-wear stores.

Then I spied a baby bush turkey, not known for their aesthetic qualities, but I could not help but admire its tenacity as it scoured the scrub for food.

“How sweet…” I thought, looking at this creature which resembled a large rotten avocado with spindly legs.

When you add all of these up, there is no denying it. I am a bona-fide bird fancier. I asked Aunty Fran about it, and she said that it was just something that just creeps up on you as you get older. You notice this shit.

And so I ask you, my older sisters who read along here, what else am I going to expect?

And go easy.

This bird fancier thing has been hard to digest. Much like white bread, which is why I avoid it…