One of the birds which uses our yard as a cafeteria is a galah with a broken wing. He's usually the first to arrive in the morning, peering in the window, hoping to get an early start on the food before the other birds muscle him out of the way. I try to slip him an extra handful but he's very timid and toddles away if I come near. I suppose he really has to take his chances with the others; survival of the fittest is the rule at our place.
Because he can't fly, I thought he was living among a big pile of rocks at the front of the yard because I've seen him there but I'm not so sure now. This morning, I got the food to him before the others arrived so he did well. Then I watched him head over to the fence, crawl through to the next door property and proceed to climb up a scrubby little wattle tree, using his beak to drag him up from branch to branch. Unbelievable! He reached the branch he was aiming for and settled down for a snooze.
I've been calling the bird 'he' but, with the determination it's showing, I think it must be a female. No bloke would go to so much trouble.
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