Morning Living in The Country

This morning I stood in the living room with the ranch doors onto the deck wide open.  Elgar's Cello Concerto (the Jaqueline du Pré recording) was playing.  I like my music reasonably loud which is ok when there is no one to disturb.  As I stood and listened I realised that the noise of the countryside outside was greater than the sound of the music.  I switched off the music and ventured outside onto the deck.  

I'm not very good at bird calls but there are some that I recognise.  Nearest to The Cottage a Chaffinch was vying for individual honours with a Blackbird (the clear winner).  The flocks of Sparrows and Goldfinches were vying with each other for group honours (no clear winner there).  The eerily haunting cries of the Australasian Magpies filled the distance (winners of the eerily haunting class by a wide margin).  The screetch of the Pukeko intermittently butted in (clearly winning the scare-you-out-of-your-pants class).  Two little Fantails twittered as they chased each other through the trees (winners of the twittering class and the can't-stand-still class as well).  The Kingfisher darted around winning the silent class: although they do have a loud and penetrating call and there are many of them around here I'm not sure that I've ever identified it.

I was actually wakened this morning before 0600 by a quad bike in the Orchard.  Johnny was inspecting the insect traps to see what pests had to be sprayed today.  An hour or so later he was back dressed from head to toe in his protective gear covering all and sundry with insecticide.  

This morning there has not been a breath of a breeze and my washing has hung limply on the whirlygig since 0700.  In fact it's a very odd morning because the bright sun after the dawn became hazy and then overcast and now it's bright, though, hazy again.  There's a very unsettling feeling in the air.

There is just something magical about living in the countryside.