Blacksmithing in Timbertown

And some lovely pieces from Don Marshall

Churches of Port Macquarie

In the stocks at Timbertown

Nelson Bay

Fear & The Pelican

Along the wharf, people are fishing, dressed against the cold weather. Inside the bay, a lone pelican is paddling back and forth, in search of breakfast. It seems strange, to see it alone. I usually see pelicans in small groups. I wonder if it has been rejected by its group. But I know nothing of pelicans. Small hens are my birds.

I walk to the end of the wharf, turn around to take more shots of the land, the morning sun glinting on glass, the buildings lit in a kaleidoscope as the sun is revealed through the parting clouds. Behind the land ridge, clouds are heavier, darker, threatening. The wind comes from the south, chilling me.

As I walk back along the wharf, I watch the pelican fly low, and land on the path ahead of me, near the fishing folk. Perhaps they know to throw it discarded fish, perhaps this is a disabled or elderly pelican. But I don’t think these thoughts yet. I think it would be good to take photos of Katja’s favourite creatures. Katja is coming to join our son, Justin. She is coming from Berlin. We love her and want to welcome her as best we can.

I take several photos, the pelican turning its head side on to observe me. I put the camera in my pocket and move to pass the pelican to leave the wharf.

The pelican opens its beak wide, and makes a trumpeting bellowing noise. I am warned away. I mutter, "It’s alright", but the bird is clearly not happy with me wanting to get closer.

So I retreat  to the other end of the wharf and wait to see if the pelican moves off. I divert myself by watching a sea bird patiently and unsuccessfully try to catch a fish. It dives, it swoops, and it hovers. But each vertical dive, so swift and elegant, brings no benefit. Its flight staggered as it leaves the water, battling the strong breeze. The wind chills me, I wonder the bird can bear it, once wet.

Three times I walk back along the wharf towards the fishers. The pelican turns its gaze towards me. I wonder if birds can sense my fear like dogs used to. Until I stopped fearing them.

Then I see an opportunity, a man is walking towards me-he will have to pass this bird, if I time my walking, the bird will have to deal with the two of us. I hasten my step, but I have left it too late, the man passes the pelican, and then me, before I have reached it. But the pelican had only moved to the side of the path when the man passed. That was all. I took courage from that, kept walking. Passing as far on the other side of the path without stumbling on the rocks, the bird turned to me, made a quiet clucking noise. “Yeah, two gulps and you’d be nice and warm in my belly”

  Elizabeth Mulrennan 2009

Elizabeth Mulrennan 2009

Dressed up in lights