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.
