Wading to work...

On my first trip to the Solomon Islands, we landed on a small runway and walked past military vehicles and army tents pitched by soldiers from different Pacific nations. From that moment onwards, even when in the most remote islands, someone knew where we were. Aside from peace-keeping troops throughout the troubled region, difficult naval operations were taking place and it wasn't unusual to eat breakfast with soldiers that had spent days destroying sea mines and live bombs from WWII. We travelled between islands in small dinghy-sized motorised boats and held clinics for villagers on tiny, palm covered islands. On one island, we were greeted by a machete welding old man and had chickens walking amongst our equipment while villagers lined up to be seen. On another island, a large group of men with machetes were building canoes for the approaching Centenary  celebrations while on another, the villagers were summoned by a young male blowing into a giant sea-shell. Some of the women made plates from palm leaves for us to eat our lunch from and when we were finished our clinic, the same women watched us eat our cooked lunch inside a room with woven walls in a building on stilts. Each time we ate, after each clinic, we made sure that we told them that their meal had been better than the island before. The journey home to our base was a slow one on the first day ... partly because we were thrashed by a tropical storm and partly because we were five meals heavier than when we left. My new shoes took a beating because we had to wade through water on coral reefs to get back into our boat and I reluctantly put them into the rubbish bin before I went to bed on the second day.

Digital illustration: "Things that grow in my shoes"

"Things that grow in my shoes"

*(Everything on my site is my own work except for one photograph of the mars rover, "curiosity"...and that was because  I couldn't get there)

Pterodactyl tribe

The nearby water field had been dry for weeks and was a flat, white expanse of sand. Red-tailed cockatoos travel high  across my house in small groups every morning and every evening. I usually step outside and watch them... they look like pterodactyls flying through cloud. Following a similar flight-path, a larger group of white-tailed cockatoos (Carnaby cockatoos) occasionally fly over or feed near my house. They are easily disturbed and rarely cross over into residential areas. Two years ago, hail storms had killed large numbers of them and they were only now beginning to recover their numbers. They have large white cheek markings and are seldom seen up close.

A week ago,  a group of about forty white-tailed cockatoos landed on the tall, dead tree opposite my house. A large cockatoo landed on my fence and called the group. They were very nervous and flew over a few times before deciding whether to land or not.. It took about twenty minutes of encouragement from the courageous cockatoo  before the first bird landed on my fence above the  birdbaths. Then, in a graceful sea of kite-like sailing manoeuvres, one by one the birds came in and drank water, guarding and watching each other cautiously. Three sat on poles that small trees were tied to. One sat quietly while the other two chewed on the wood and chewed on my trees.The others lined up on my fence. One of the last birds to land, held a small, dead  baby cockatoo in it's beak. She never came in to drink. Then, as they left, sometimes coming back for a second drink, they cut through the air between the trees and over the empty road like a sea of gliders. Their characteristic cry cut through the resting sky.

For two mornings and two evenings, I was graced by their presence, almost honoured that they had chosen my garden. When the nearby lake was dry, the cockatoos would change their flight path through the trees home and drink at another recovered wetland. The two days that they came into my garden, large trucks had been parked near the waterway to do day and night roadworks. When the trucks left, the endangered cockatoos never came back to my garden, despite the heat. They had endured weeks of relentless, searing heat and been desperate for water. I had indeed been privileged. In fact, I had been visited...visited by a rare  tribe.

Digital Illustration: "Night and Hell and I"

"Night and Hell and I"

Digital Illustration: "The Gate-keeper...Servant of Artemis"

"Servant of Artemis"