I just adore autumn. I love the delicious vegetables, the colours of the dying leaves and the crisp, cold air punctured by the sharp smell of wood smoke. Naturally, my camera gets used at this time of year. I was wondering down by the canal with a friend, taking advantage of the wonderful colours and taking it all in. I genuinely wish I could stay in autumn forever. To me, it seems like the shortest season. This is the time I like, when the leaves have been falling for sometime and the smell of their rotting hovers over the ground but when you look up it's a kaleidoscopic smorgasbord containing every shade of red, orange, yellow and brown . I'm always sad to see it fade away.
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One of my biggest joys is having pets. I have always been intrigued by animals. I used to keep pet rats, and everything was hunky dory until a year in I developed a severe allergy to the protein that is present in their urine. I went to the doctor and he told me point blank that I should 'get rid of them' so I said 'fat chance, mate. Now what else is there you can give me' So he sent me on my merry way with a steroid nasal spray and enough antihistamines to provide enough allergy relief for a small city. He told me I had to stand on my head when I sprayed it into my bunged up nostrils. Ho ho! A doctor with a sense of humour!
So I endured another two years of constant breathlessness and flu like symptoms until all the rats had passed on. I didn't get another pet for the next five years. The black capped lory took my fancy when I was at university. However, I decided my hands were full enough with my mischief of rats. So now I have finally got my new friends after 5 years. The humble Green Cheek Conure. These little birds may be small but their personality is stubborn, clownish, funny and every shade of loony. My two like to play the 'good cop, bad cop' routine with me. One day one will be a nightmare, eating my plants, biting, running circles around me and generally seeing what awful naughtiness it can get away with, and the other will be a little dear, sitting either on my lap happily chirping away and preening my hair while on my shoulder. Then the roles will be reversed the next day. They know exactly how to give me pet induced whiplash! They love training and will do anything for a little treat. At the moment we are working on them being able to step up onto my fingers without shredding them to bits. Their bites certainly pack a punch and break the skin when they want. My hands currently look like they are host to a bad bout of scabies. Not good when you work with food. Only god knows what people think when they see my hands. They probably go home and disinfect their clothes and google: 'How contagious is scabies' Cicero is a cinnamon green cheek conure and Kouki (pronounced Ko-key) is a pineapple green cheek conure. They are both flighted, meaning they can fly about. I don't see the sense in cutting a birds wing feathers. Besides, I have so much more fun with my birds flying around my head and room like a pair of malfunctioning spitfires, screeching their heads off with all the fun they are having chasing each other. I can't imagine them with their wings clipped. They'd be so boring, stuck in the same spot or on my shoulder or where ever I place them. All three of us would be yawning. These guy poo a lot, in little amounts. Honestly, I'm considering setting up my own fertiliser company. I'd be making a small fortune. To these guys, nothing is sacred. My books, my clothes, my bed, my carpet, my head, my clean washing hanging up. The only place they don't poo (which would be great, if they actually did poop there) is my plant pots. I guess they don't know their nitrogen rich doo doo would be a much needed treat for my poor plants that have to put up with their unrelenting beaks. I think they find me running after them with a tissue and spray bottle a very amusing game. They probably think I'm collecting their little packages for something and only want to help out. Potty training is a must once we all get used to each other. For now, news paper and under the popular spots will suffice. Cicero, as I type this, just landed on my laptop, took a generous poo on my screen and then flew off. Gee, thanks. I can see this blossoming into a wonderful, friendship, full of kindness and respect for each other. Just look at these cheeky little faces. They look like drowned rats when they have taken a wee bath! And soak everything in their direct vicinity. Too adorable. They are a massive handful and are prone to mood swings that will put any hormonal teenager to shame, but I wouldn't change them for the world. I should have called them Time and Patience, as a constant reminder that those are the key ingredients for anybody who owns a couple of hyper parrots. Of one thing, I am certain. There will be many fun and interesting times to be had :) If I ever received a sudden and unexpected windfall and went to L.A, my first port of call would most likely be Turnbull Canon, at night, in the Puente Hills Reserve so I could to get wonderful, twinkly shots of L.A. As it turns out, the city I live in has it's own version which is a 10 minute walk from my flat. Yep, you guessed it. Those good old Salisbury Crags, which have been there long before any humble settlers arrived. It's so easy to take them for granted, as they are right on my doorstep. During the day, they are...alright. I try and avoid going up during the day as it is heaving with runners, cyclists, dog walkers, hikers, screaming kids. Especially during the summer months. It is crawling with tourists. I realise I am painting the most resplendent picture of one of Edinburgh's most historic sites.
Picture this. One time I was up there, taking a break and reading my book as it was a gorgeous day, so I thought it would be a good idea to catch up on my daily dose of Vitamin D3, like any other normal person would. So, sitting up the Crags, minding my own business, I suddenly heard some weird wailing that caught my attention on the small breeze that was tickling my cheek. I had no idea what it was. I then saw four male tourists, no older than twenty years old trudging up over the crest next to me. The wailing belonged to a mobile phone that the lead guy was holding up as high as he could, in some powerful gesture, encouraging his mates onwards, like good, Christian soldiers. It was wailing what I can only assume was bagpipe music. I looked on, intrigued by this party of four, bolstered by the most cheesy, uninspiring Scottish music, torn to shreds by the pitiful and tinny speakers of the mobile device. Then they all formed a line once they reached their destination, resting their hands on their knees, huffing and puffing from their exertion. Then the main man, holding the phone up high, straightened up, shoved his phone towards the sky, encompassed in a tight fist of triumph and shouted (In a thick Italian accent) 'WOOOOO! I'M THE KING OF THE WORLD!!!' over and over again until the entirety of Edinburgh got the fact that he was the king of the world. I burst out laughing. He certainly gave Dicaprio a run for his money. This is normal behaviour up the Crags, during the day. Now, I ask you, have you ever been up at night? If not, and you like your peace and quiet, like me, then the Crags at night is for you. It is emptier than a shopping mall with a bomb scare and quieter than a Quaker. If you don't mind getting startled by the odd tree tricking you into thinking it is a human in the dark ahead of you, standing still and staring directly at you. then by all means, trudge on up. I went up with my friend Holly and we ended up scaring each other silly (over active imaginations, you see. It's a blessing and curse) with scary tales of Slender man. Holly had to reassure me we were too old for his preference to get taken by him. I had to reassure her that bandits were not going to come and get us, and The Highway Man would find us utterly boring, and that was, in fact, just a tree. Not depraved zombie out to get us. It was quite fun! Here are some shots of the night. The scenery is really quite stunning. |
AuthorThe author is a lady with suspect taste is fashion who has two parrots. Any typos are their say in the editing process. Archives
June 2017
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