With the evening sun rapidly taking away the glorious light from the forest, I wandered over to see what was happening with Karen and Jimmy and their offspring.
With some help of general arm waving from EE, I soon located first one of the parents, and then where the little dude was holed up.
Trying ever so hard not to get to close, and yet at the same time get a reasonable view, I sat behind some small trees and waited.
And suddenly things took a turn. Both Karen and Jimmy came down to the small bird and called in a most anxious and scolding call. Highly vocal and active they were both trying to get the young one on the move. I’d not seen them react like with me before, and wondered what I’d done that had bought on such nervous activity.
Casting around, I found the cause, as not only were the Robins in full cry, but so was every Wagtail, Woodswallow and Grey Shrike-thrush.
Like all good dramas, there was indeed a culprit. A fox had wandered along the kangaroo tracks seeking no doubt an evening meal. The birds were in full cry against it, the wagtails making a rush, and the Robins trying to get their young one to higher ground. No mean feat when it doesn’t have any flight capability, and no sense of direction and no understanding of navigation.
In the end they moved it in my direction! So I had a few grams of brown and gold feathers jumping along sticks, bark and leaves in my general area. Which, above all things gave me some lovely views of the little bird in the rapidly diminishing sunlight. And I pondered later that perhaps they saw me as a protection from said sly fox. (well its nice to dream dreams ah?)
I stood up in the end, which gave the fox a start, and then I moved toward it, and soon it was a brown blur in the distance, by the time I’d returned the young one was being encouraged to find its way up some low branches for the evening.
Now the fox would have made such short work of the little brown and gold feathers that it reminded me of the story of the Gingerbread man, and the fox tossing him in the air and “Snip Snap, went the old fox and he ate the Gingerbread Man all up”.
So I decided that “Ginger” was a good name for the little dude and that it can indeed grow up to fly away as fast as it can.
Birds as Poetry —— Just because I WANDER - --doesn't mean I'm LOST 
Another great little story. Glad to hear you scared the fox away. Great shots, as usual.
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G,day, thanks for your comments. Must be a bad weather day to keep us indoors. It was right on sunset, and I kind of worried all night how the little dude got on. Don’t have the same access to the park as we used to, just too far away.
The number of foxes in the park are an obvious problem as well as the solution to the rabbits. Tough call.
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Lovely story, sounds like you might have played a part in saving a little life there!
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G,day Andrew, thanks for the comments. Its a bit of a strange story, I am pretty convinced it just came by me because of its poor navigation. But at least the fox was long gone. (for now)
You know from past experience how difficult it is to even find the little birds let alone get a clear shot.
We’ve not seen any sight at all of the pair that were at the north end of the forest last year and can only conclude they’ve moved on.
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Hi again,
As the others have said, it’s good that you managed to save “Ginger” from Reynard. Wonderful shots as always, particular the last one where he has a distinct smile 🙂
Christine
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Hi Christine, glad you like Ginger. I guess the little dude was safe for the time being, and mom and dad, and the rest of the bush birds seemed more than ready to pitch in. Ginger has about 2-3 weeks before it has enough feathers to be a flying fleeing bird.
But they do learn to sit still, and I find that with the adults as well. We can sometimes, say, “Well, there’s not much here today”, and in a short time find one or the other adults just lurking in the bush absolutely still.
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