These days when we stay in Swan Hill, we’ve taken to using the Caravan Park onsite Cabins. All the mod cons with none of the towing. Australia Day weekend in the country is a grand event, and Swan Hill put on a Breakfast morning to celebrate, with bands and speeches and dignitaries and all the fun of the fair.

Not to be outdone, the local Little Corella population has taken to roosting along the trees around the confluence of the Murray and Little Murray (Moorabool) Rivers. Now One Corella is noisy, ten are a bit loud, 100 are shrill, but Ten Thousand, (I didn’t count, but thousands is such an easy term to bandy about when the sky is filled with White, Calling Corellas), is a veritable crescendo. What a lovely way to be woken up.  Well that’s what I thought. Others thought a little less kindly. But, that didn’t stop, hinder, slow down, or in anyway impede these masters of the air in their morning recital.

Down the river they flew, then up the river, then down the river, then across the island, and back up the river. Yep, they’re awake.  Awesome.

Inflight photography doesn’t get much easier than this.  Turn on camera. Point somewhere, press shutter, delete all the bad ones.  Easy ah?

In the middle of all the noise, a lone Nankeen Night Heron made is silent trek up the river at evening, and then down again in the morning. Saw it but. Missed it with the camera each time. We (An Onymous and I,) snuck out the backgate to follow it to its roost. Cool as the gate has a security code, and we didn’t think to remember it. After all its numbers and stuff, and well, not very photographically inclined. So after several attempts at all the combinations we could think of  (5), we simply walked around the long way in the evening sun and found a pair of Galahs at work in a tree.

Meanwhile the Corellas, (did I mention them?) were making their 39th trip up or down the river depending on which way they had previously flown.

Dorothy in the meantime had spotted a Whistling Kite that had gotten itself down below the tree line and was making its way lazily up the river (ought to be a song about that), until the next round of Corellas met it half way. Now with a white screeching avalanche headed at you, there is not much room or time to manouver and the poor old Whistling Kite got a right going over by the flock(s). Score Kite 0, Corellas, 18,497, and that was just the first round.

So with another chop sizzling on the bbq in the evening light we watched and listened to the Corellas make their 123rd trip up the river. Or down, depending on which way they hadn’t previously flown.

Nice way to spend Oz day. Good on ya.

All the blank space down here represents Little Corellas in flight. Add your own sound.