Last week was quite busy. From Wednesday afternoon to Friday morning I had guests. Barbara, one of my visitors, is the niece of the mid upper gunner who flew in the Lancaster, EQ-P. Her uncle and my second cousin, Bud, the tail gunner, were the two youngest members of the crew, aged 19. Barbara and I had met once before when I was in the UK two years ago doing my research for my book. I was thankful she got a chance to visit so we could catch up with each other.
On Friday morning, just before they left, there was a very unusual occurrence. A Rainbow Lorikeet made an appearance at the far side of the pool. We watched from the window, curious. It looked as though it was trying to lean down to take a drink. After a few unsuccessful attempts at reaching the water, it slipped and fell into the pool. I expected it to fly right up, but instead it flapped its way across the pool and pulled itself out on the side nearest to us, completely drenched.
Barbara, her friend, and I, all stood inside at the window, taking photographs of the bird. It was beautiful and seemed completely unaware or unconcerned about us. My dog also watched from about three feet away on the other side of the fence.
It seemed quite happy.
It cleaned itself and walked along the pool edge back to the far side.
Eventually it disappeared behind the water feature and into the greenery. We put our cameras away and Barbara and her friend soon headed out to travel on up the coast.
Later that morning I happened to glance out the window, and there at the bottom of the water feature was the poor Rainbow Lorikeet, dead, floating in the pool. I felt bad I hadn’t kept a closer eye on the bird. I scooped it out and took it away.
When I had a chance to look over the photographs I had taken, I was thankful to have had a chance to watch the little bird and capture some lovely pictures of its last moments.