Happy Birthday to my older Sister!

At the Huon Show, last Saturday, which I attended with my younger brother, his wife & two boys, I acquired a recipe book from the local Boer goat breeder that has entries from Africa, U.S.A., Australia, China, the Dominican Republic, the Fiji Islands, France, Greece, India, Italy, Jamaica, Mexico, Pakistan, Peru, the Phillipines, Portugal, Puerto Rico, ancient Rome & Thailand. The Boers are a short, yet chunky breed that, apparently, offer particularly good feed input/dressed weight returns. The recipes look "Yum!" & most should work with sheep-meat (*my* fave). Does anyone fancy a recipe for goat?

Today, after a pleasant luncheon date (despite the unnecessarily hot, windy bushfire weather occurring around us) with etfb, who, with his family has been enjoying the delights of Tassie, I visited the Imperial Bookshop (an eclectic range of used books) in the hopes of locating Wilson & Reaney, or Withycombe, both seminal works in the history of English peoples' names. No luck there, but I escaped with:

Gregory of Tours, *The History of the Franks*, L. Thorpe (trans.), Penguin, Harmondsworth, 1974;
Bede & Eddius Stephanus, *The Age of Bede*, J.F. Webb (trans.), Penguin, Harmondsworth, 1985;
Neubecker, O., *A Guide to Heraldry*, McGraw-Hill, Maidenhead, 1979;
Andronicos, M., *National Museum*, B. de Jongh (trans.), Ekdotike Athenon, Athens, 1981;
Taylour, Lord W., *The Mycenaeans*, Thames and Hudson, London, 1994;
Melas, E. (ed.), *Temples and Sanctuaries of Ancient Greece*, Thames and Hudson, London, 1973; and
Bord, J., *Mazes and Labyrinths of the World*, E.P. Dutton & Co., New York, 1976.

Which to begin reading first, now that the weather has changed to cool & southerly?

Today, after what I considered to have been an appropriately patient interval, of three to four years, I purchased a Wollemi Pine (*Wollemia nobilis*).
This brings my small collection of the Family Araucariaceae to six species, & eight specimens.

Happy little herbophile!! : )

To all of my mean, green, amphibious fighting-machine Brothers & Sisters out there--


Happy Marine Corps Birthday!

Semper Fi.

On Saturday, 24 October, the first Wildganger of Ynys Fawr Meet mustered at Carr Villa to patrol the northern reaches of the Ben Lomond massif (located in north-eastern Tasmania) as far as the summit of Legge's Tor. It was a cool Spring day, with alternating cloudiness & warming sunshine. Cynewulf, Alessandra, Frodi, Hugh & I stepped out in the early afternoon to ascend hundreds of metres of rough boulder trails up onto the gale-swept plateau, which was a sea of dolerite boulders. Frodi's spider banner whipped bravely in the wind, showing us where our path lay ahead. We encountered snow-drifts, up to my knees in places, & snowballs flew. The cold wind gave most of us red noses & made for stiff fingers, but was most bracing! After a sumptuous lunch, which included a variety of cheeses, cold meats, breads, & dried fruits, we reached the wind-scoured cairn that marks the highest point of the massif & raised the Ynys Fawr colours. Atop the plateau, we were observed closely by a pair of Wedge-Tailed Eagles & a pair of heavily-furred Bennett's Wallabies. The return descent was probably more difficult than the ascent, because of our full bellies, & sore toes from all of the boulder-hopping. We arrived safely back at Carr Villa just as the first few raindrops fell & may report that no hostile forces were encountered during our patrol. Also, Cynewulf's medieval boots coped admirably with all of the rocks, streams, puddles & snow that we traversed!

Enthralling photos may be viewed here:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/baronsnorri/

"From the wrath of the angry Pea-fowl, O Lord, deliver us in our time of Tribulation."
A prayer scribbled in the margin of folio XXXIXv of the Lindisfarne Gospel.



Early this morning I heard the cry of a Pea-fowl—not the variety of calls my youngsters have been given to before now, but the full-throated "Kee-YAH!" of an adult bird. Thinking to myself that Xerxes & Esmeralda were growing up, I paid it little attention. Later, stepping outside, I was somewhat surprised to observe the heretofore meek Xerxes confronting Rinaldo, the Red Leviathan. They eye-balled each other, circled & sparred, with Xerxes chivvying a somewhat disgruntled Rinaldo up & down the cell block wire for half an hour, or so, acting like nothing so much as a well-bred sheep-dog in prize-winning form. I wonder if one can train Pea-fowl to such duties? ( Watch your back, Rinaldo! )

Feathers & dignities were ruffled & no-one was injured...still, be sure to drink your milk, eat your Vegemite, say your prayers, & ...

Beware the Pea!

Today is the birthday of my best Marine buddy, Soupbone. I hope St. Peter gives him light duties. Happy St. Crispin's day to all!

This afternoon, I wandered out to sit near Umberto & Hieronymous, as they seem to enjoy the company. The Spring sunshine was pleasantly warm & golden, the Shrubberies were glowing beautiful shades of green, & the view across North-West Bay towards Snug Tier was lovely. Shortly after I sat, Oliver & Dorothy came up the hill from the bottom pond, picked a nice, close possie in the lush grass & began a rather vigorous grooming session, first dabbing at their posterior oil glands (the "Parson's Nose"), then briskly rubbing it through their plumage.

Out of the corner of one eye, I espied the little bunny that's been around—it's starting to lengthen & lose that baby-bunny cuteness, but is still small & fluffy (I've always liked the Peter Rabbit stories). I sat still. Bunny came, hesitantly, across the intervening grass, nibbling at the odd stalk, or curl of bark. When only ten feet from me (this is a feral animal), it capered one of those half-turn jumps that young mammals will do when feeling frisky, & started sidling over towards Oliver. Oliver gave it the standard threat that he gives everyone these days, even going so far as to hiss, before turning his back & resuming his grooming. Little Bunny crept up behind Oliver to sniff at his tail, then tucked its nose *under* Oliver's tail & gave every appearance, for minutes, of enjoying a nose-rub as Oliver's grooming of his forward parts caused his rear end to manoeuvre in counter-balance.

Not standard bunny behaviour in my many years of observing bunny behaviour. Hmm...

The removal of the lignous ornament from atop the carport proceeded, this morning.( Two chaps arrived with a Bobcat in tow. )
It was interesting to note that the fungal infestation of the main trunk had left as little as one inch thickness of living wood (the darker ring) around the exterior.

It was one of those lovely, slightly confused Spring days when it couldn't decide whether it wanted to be gently hazy, gently sunny, gently breezy, or gently showery, so it tried a little of everything in the interests of a comprehensive approach to experimental technique.

Further to previous testosterone tales, during the day I espied Rinaldo & the White Hen visiting the boys in the reception block. The hormones must've been about knee deep when the White Hen ruffled her plumage, stretched up on her diminutive tippy-toes & jumped at a somewhat bemused Umberto! Admittedly, there was a morsel of cake on the ground between them, but it was hardly "lady-like" behaviour. To ensure that there was no foul play, Hieronymus stood as Second to Umberto, while Rinaldo backed White Chookie. Meanwhile, Xerxes got excitable, raised his skirts & showed off his fluffy underdrawers to Esmeralda.

Then, he privileged others of us with a view.

An exceedingly large avocado fruit (double my fist!) has followed me home, along with a quantity of horse manure. The manure should make a good home for a few Zucchini seedlings, & I'm curious as to how different this avocado would appear, once sprouted, to the others that I have.

This afternoon, I stepped out of the front door to be confronted by one of the tiniest bunnies you ever saw—it was about as long as my hand, with cute, little ears & a cute, little face, & cute, little black eyes. Unfortunately, it's small enough to penetrate the Gulag & bring my delicate, tasty Shrubberies under threat. Hmm...

I have been cultivating one of the local Ravens, tossing it scraps or old pastries from work. Yesterday, I saw it hop in under the carport & return with something in its beak. "Ah!" thought I, "It's found the chooks' feed bowl." Hmm. No, actually, it had discovered the Girls' laying box & had removed at least half-a-dozen eggs. How best to discourage it, short of rending limb from limb...?

Sunset, over Snug Tier, frames two Wattle-birds (*Anthochaera paradoxa*) in a tree outside the window, while the afore-mentioned Raven, with a couple of cronies, patrols the paddock in search of something small & edible.

Thanks to all well-wishers out there in the Wide World--it's nice to know that folks care.


: )


On with the Show!


Wednesday morning, courtesy of the local Freecycle system, two colourful young roosters accompanied me home. Arrayed in various scintillating hues of red, orange, rust & black, they're quite an eyeful. Having fed the rest of the Fowl, I released the new guys into the reception cell block, where all who had preceded them did time.

No sooner out of the bag than the first began crowing, followed swiftly by the other. After fifteen minutes of them bugling back & forth, Rinaldo, who had been on the far side of the house, stuck his head around the corner, sporting a suspicious gleam in his near-side eye. Halfway across the driveway he froze, lo-o-o-o-ked, looked again, then pounded across the intervening open ground for an "up close & personal". Zounds! Interlopers!

The next half-an-hour (at least!) was occupied with observing Rinaldo & one of the new lads (Hieronymus) facing each other down through the wire—ruffling their neck feathers, pecking at each other's combs, occasionally leaping & spurring the wire, with the other rooster crowing, fit to bust & stirring them both along. Later, during the afternoon, the White Hen was to be seen occupying a central position, equidistant from all three boys, presumably bathing in the eddies & swirls of testosterone gurgling to & fro.

This evening, after a spot o'retail therapy, I sat near the new lads, to watch them & accustom them to my presence. I had noticed the Pea checking them out, earlier in the day, so wasn't surprised when Xerxes wandered over for a look. The next thing I knew, he had leapt upon the fence & was exhibiting behaviour very similar to that of a rooster checking out the opposition—eyeballing with intent, pecking at random (uneaten) bits of shrubbery, ruffling of feathers & flapping of wings. Descending, he positioned, beak-to-beak, with the sideshow rooster of yesterday, & they faced up & down the wire for a time. Then (Shock!), my sweet, timid Esmeralda came over & started strutting back & forth like a junkyard dog (*sans* the growling—just a quiet cluck from time to time) wanting a piece of one of the new guys—facing up like a veteran pugilist. The new inmates seemed quite unsure how to cope with the Pea—oddly, Hieronymus, 'though quick to jump at Rinaldo, was rather stand-offish with the Pea, whilst the other, less forward with Rinaldo, acted more confidently when they faced up.

So, one needs to find a couple of cute girlie-type chooks to keep company with these fellows, preferably English Game hens (they're tough!!...& colourful), 'though I think I'll only be keeping Hieronymus.

Saturday night--all night—the winds & rains of a Southerly gale lashed the domicile & estates of Casa Snorri. Around 0800 on Sunday morning, a heavy double-gust rocked the house, as though to overturn it. I heard a loud "Thump!", such as one does during gales & thought little of it. Shortly after, as I arose to greet the morning & feed the Fowl, I noticed that the Pea were in a rather agitated state. Sitting atop the laundry, they were wet, bedraggled & very, very unhappy (they will insist on sleeping forty feet up a tree, in the teeth of a howling storm!). Turning to my left, I discovered another reason for their discomfiture—the large trifurcate (over twenty feet along the main stem & two feet thick at the base) top of the Eucalypt by the bunkhouse had detached, tested Newton's Theory of Gravitation, & draped itself, engagingly, across the carport (under which live most of my Shrubberies!!) & blanketed the driveway with cubic metres (notice how one segues, effortlessly, between Imperial & Metric measurements?) of pungently green Gum leaves. Very little (physical) damage was sustained by my Shrubberies, 'though I'm reasonably convinced that they're mostly traumatised to within an inch of their lives. Thankfully, the tree-top chose the heavy gusts in which to essay its escape, as it flew thirty yards, *over* the carport, before touching down & bouncing back onto the roof. If it had only fallen, the carport, & my Shrubberies, would be nought but memories.

From the damage caused to the Gulag, one is almost inclined to wonder if this was a cunning Possum-plan to breach the defenses around the Shrubberies ; ) The four-inch diameter pole, *in bend sinister* (Footnote 1), is usually to be found *in fess* (Footnote 2), at head height.

The main stem in profile, with the parent tree angling behind the bunkhouse, still over fifty feet tall but, probably, not for very much longer.

Buttercup used to park between the buildings--fortunately, not on the day, or it would be a bright yellow colander on wheels.

The base of the main stem, riddled with fungus, & the parent tree behind.

From the same storm the electrical power went out across much of southern Tasmania—in my neighbourhood, at 0900 Sunday (just after a nice Moccona), due to a tree down across the lines (Surprise!). Power was finally restored at 1900, on Monday, so one had fun cooking atop the fire & reading by candle-light. Sadly, I missed Cherubini's 18th Century opera, Medea, broadcast on Classic-FM, Sunday evening.

(1) Heraldese for "angled down to the left".
(2) Heraldese for "horizontal".

Let us dance, let us sing "Ka-loo! Ka-lay!"
Saw the first echidna of Spring today...

The angiospermatic shrubbery are leafing out, in that new, pale green that is so beautiful when transluminated by the backdrop'd Sun; the Gymnosperms are trading their Winter hues for the Spring Collection ("All the rage this season, don't you know, Da-a-a-ah-lings!"). Stella & Simone, the cherries, are clouds of fragrant white blossom.

Black Chook has started laying again (finally!); the Pea are larger, & more entertaining, every day; Oliver is slowly becoming resigned to the absences of the girls--Clarice is little seen, being mostly ensconced, deep within the shrubbery, & Dorothy is taking a significant amount of time to herself. Might one hope for the pitter-pat of little Gosling feet?

On Friday, with the assistance of the redoubtable Adventure Guide, an authentic Mad Scientist (tm) glass-fronted display cabinet followed me home from the third floor of the Geology Department (Sorry! The "Earth Sciences" Department...) at the Uni.

Crafted of a local hardwood (*Eucalyptus* sp.), the cabinet measures some 80x72x27 inches, neatly divides the kitchen from the loungeroom, & is heavy, as one might expect. It now houses a goodly number of my older, more rare, or large format books—I'm thinking of renting out the lower section to a couple of refugee families.

The fowl are becoming increasingly domestic, if that is possible. I fear that the only barrier to The Pea moving into the house is the front door, closed against the Winter's cold. The Goose visited the oven, again, yesterday, when the opportunity arose.

Here, The Goose have claimed the Ballroom floor, while The Pea observe from the mezzanine. Note Oliver's white tail to the right—he was engaged in a D'n'M with the washing machine.

It would seem that The Pea are settling in. During the week, while I slept (night-shifter), visitors observed them dancing together, a sinuous undulation reminiscent of dolphins swimming, while weaving in & out around each other—very entertaining! Thursday afternoon, in the warm sunlight, Xerxes displayed. He is still quite young & yet to develop the glorious train-of-eyes that one expects on a Peacock, but his array of bronzey wings & tail was fully hoist & he shimmied engagingly. Not to be outdone, his sister, Esmeralda, fronted up to him, also displayed, & appeared to have been answered with an "Oi! That's *my* department! Find your own party trick!".

Watching the sun set usually brings me a sense of peace—now, it is enhanced by watching The Pea ascend to their chosen roost. Until last evening, they habitually slept twenty feet off the ground—no more, no less. Last night, they reached the previously favoured limb, then one of them looked up & lifted off, another twenty feet higher. They are large birds, yet they seem almost to float, quietly, upon the air, & at times, ascend nearly vertically.

The Pea sleep on a tree branch, open to the weather, so, it's a tad peculiar that they spend much of the day, under cover, on the back porch, & seem to delight in roosting on (or, in) the laundry tubs. With The Pea on the sink & The Goose inspecting their reflections in the front-loading washing machine's window, it can be an adventure accessing the toilet & shower.


Xerxes, on deck, & Esmeralda, aloft.

Last Sunday afternoon, I treated myself to the ABC Classic FM free concert, held in the Sir Stanley Burbury Theatre, at the Uni.. It's not often that these concerts come to Hobart; I've always managed to miss them in the past. Christopher Lawrence introduced the Kingfisher Trio (Duncan Gifford - piano, Susan Collins - violin, Sue-Ellen Paulsen - cello) performing Mozart’s Divertimento in B flat, K254, and Schumann’s Piano Trio No 3 in G minor, Op 110. During the first movement of the Mozart piece (the allegro) the piano seemed rather flat, as 'though the sound could only lift about three feet above the instrument. I'm certain that the pianist was playing well—p'raps the piano had not warmed up on such a cold day, or, indeed, my ear-drums had not warmed after the drive to the venue. Both ladies on strings played magnificently, & the piano's sound slowly unfurled its petals during the adagio, to be in full blossom, throughout the auditorium, by the end of the movement.

Listening to recorded music, or the radio, as I generally do, it is so easy to forget the joys of a live performance—feeling the music enfold about one's self, observing the musicians, *their* involvement in the music, their facial expressions & body language, & noticing the reactions of others within the audience.

On Thursday night, ABC Classic FM broadcast Verdi's Requiem—a fine performance which took me back a number of years to the night that the wonderfully musical kirieldp took me to Llewellyn Hall, at the Australian National University, Canberra, to experience this same piece.

Two battalions (mixed choirs) were deployed as Regimental artillery, arrayed behind a large orchestra, which provided a rolling barrage. The soprano, alto, tenor, & bass Siege Guns were positioned at the Front, & archangelic brass sniped, periodically, from strategic corners of the cavernous bunker. Enthroned upon a cloud, we were thrilled: the roof echoed, trembled, & lifted as a troop of howling Valkyries & the Wild Hunt met in a great turbulence & moil.

A grand night out, for one & all!

The Pea are free!!

This morning, after feeding Xerxes & Esmeralda, my Pea-youngsters, I opened a corner of their pen & wandered off. Later, I saw that The Goose had entered the pen, lured by the lush growth that they've lusted after, this last fortnight.

Some hours passed. I went in search of the Pea, circling the house a few times, becoming (admittedly) concerned that they might have absconded. Eventually, they were found, sheltering under the *Cotoneaster* by the top pond. They spent the afternoon, quietly, on the verandah of the big shed. I endeavoured to tempt them with small slices of apple, & threw them occasional hands'-ful of grain.

Around sunset, the Pea approached me, quite near to the house, then walked (cautiously!) past, only a few feet away. Unfortunately, around the corner lurked Rinaldo, who asserted his dominance by removing a tail-feather from one of the Pea. I grabbed him, in a somewhat unceremonious fashion, admonished him, & sent him to bed, then looked for the Pea, locating them in time to witness a near-vertical flight to a stout branch twenty feet up a solid gum tree. It seems that the Pea will be fine, as long as Rinaldo doesn't chase them away.



Not my Pea, but a pretty bird, nonetheless!

This morning, in view of the recent rains, I decided to check the relative levels of the tanks around the property. So, nine feet in the air, perched atop the large concrete tank, wearing nowt but me trusty gumboots & a smile (as you do), I perceived a vehicle inbound, up me driveway. Not being sociably inclined, partially in view of my state of (un)dress, I high-tailed it down the hill towards the house, reaching the bunk-house co-synchronously with a rather large four-wheel-drive.

As I endeavoured to drape an old T-shirt in a somewhat decorous fashion, I was spotted through the bunk-house window. Without so much as a "Bye your leave?", a distinguished-looking gentleman of advanced years appeared around the corner, bearing aloft a publication of the title "Awake!". Upon noticing my state of deshabitude, he instructed someone within the vehicle to delay, as I had obviously just "stepped out of the shower".

To abbreviate the encounter, I said "No religious--have a nice day". He replied with "Can we just talk with you?", to which I countered, gesturing at the T-shirt, "Would you like me to drop this & step around the corner?"

I was offered a courteous, if brief, "Good day!"

A win for the skin, p'raps? ; )

This evening, shortly after twilight, I returned to the house, said "Hello!" to two of the resident possums, who were busily fossicking about for Chook-spilled barley, & was surprised to have a small, long-tailed hopping critter (I'm guessing a Potoroo) almost trip over my foot as I stood on the door-mat. It's the first time I've seen this particular individual—hopefully, not the last.
Earlier, during the afternoon, I had the pleasure of squatting by the (fish) pond, with a cool, misty breeze tickling my nethers, as my six fish lazed about after their flakes, The Goose blinked at me sleepily from an arm's reach away, & the Chooks eyed me, quizzically, in hopes of more cake.
I received a lovely post-card from the wonderful kirieldp depicting, in clear colour, a beautifully carved wooden drinking horn from 13th C. Sweden, of which I'd previously only seen a small b&w photograph. It lives in the Historiska Museet, Stockholm.
Short of a large stone house on acreage, the love & understanding of a good woman, & a brace of Irish Wolfhounds, does Life get much better than this?

Today developed, from a cold, hazy morning, to warm & sunny--perfect for sitting outside & carving bone, rather than working seventeen hours, at two worksites. I pottered amongst my shrubberies, weeding & re-potting, & throwing scraps out for the local ravens.

I enjoyed watching the two Hens, & Rinaldo, going about their rounds, & eating (devouring!) cake for afternoon tea; The Goose, wending their purposeful way around the place, carolling, & occasionally, practising take-off run-ups; &, as a novel experience, observing the behaviour of two young Peafowl who have joined us here, at Casa Snorri. They are this Spring's progeny, supplied by Madryn (as were The Goose), & seeming to settle in. Sunday night, while attempting to roost, they were confused by the overhead netting, but this afternoon's sunshine saw them preening & basking, stretched upon the warm ground.
Rinaldo, a sizeable Rhode Island Red rooster, is fascinated by them--they are of a similar height, with longer legs, longer plumage, & feathery topknots, instead of combs. The Goose have had a good look at them, also, but the young'uns, having grown up around both chooks & geese, appear unfazed.

After yesterday's adventures in revealing & arranging the Library, at the bottom of the last stack of books tucked into the farthest, darkest corner of the lounge-room, I discovered--Wait for it!...Eureka!--the Ann Hyland books that I sought. Not only were there "The Medieval Warhorse: From Byzantium to the Crusades", Grange Books, London, 1994, & "Training the Roman Cavalry: From Arrian's 'Ars Tactica'", Grange Books, London, 1993, but also "The Horse in the Middle Ages", Sutton Publishing, 1999!!

Oh, & a couple of books on general horse-handling & riding, "de rigeur"...

And, there was rejoicing! : )

So, this afternoon, inspired by yesterday's bit o'horsey fun, I decided to locate a few of my horsey-flavoured books. After unpacking a number of boxes of books, some of which have not seen the light of day for 15 years, or so; having unpacked & shelved six hundred (!) books, & assorted publications; having discovered, to my joy, that I *did* own a copy of Michael Camille's "The Medieval Art of Love", in addition to his "Image on the Edge: The Margins of Medieval Art", Reaktion Books, 1992 (Here's looking at *you*, quatrefoil); having found books on pre-historic & 19th C. seafaring, architecture over the past 10,000 years, the "visual arts" over a similar time-span, natural history, literature--spanning the globe (in trans., mostly) since cuneiform first dried in the hot sun, drama (predominantly Medieval or Renaissance), culinary topics, horticulture, Saxon & Norse sociology, other scientific topics (not much physics or maths), metalwork (of varying types), woodwork (historical examples--Drool!), ceramic work (over thousands of years--more drool...), battle in the ancient Middle East, from when they were throwing stones at each other (Oh! Wait...), battle across the 20th C., in its plethora of guises, the French Foreign Legion, & last, but not least, my beloved Marine Corps; would you think that I could, possibly, find the two that I sought?

All I wanted was to locate Ann Hyland's books on the Medieval Warhorse & her examination of Arrian's (?) treatise on training the Roman Cavalry. Ann has worked with Peter Connolly (& probably, others) on equine reconstructive archaeology. My recollection of her books, from some years ago, was that they were well researched & approachable for reading.

Happily, I located A. Azzaroli's "An Early History of Horsemanship", E.J. Brill, Leiden, Nederlands, 1985, but I knew where to look for that one...& I found "The Royal Hordes: Nomad Peoples of the Steppes", E.D. Phillips, Thames & Hudson, 1965; which I had forgotten that I owned--it can go with the other Scythian material. : )

Back to the Hallstadt mines...Hi-ho!