We live on a narrow strip of land between the Indian Ocean and the Peel Estuary. It’s called (tongue in cheek) The Island, or Mandurah Island, because to get here by land is only possible if you cross a substantial bridge. There are three bridges, the third of which, to the south, spans an artificial cut made between the sea and the estuary, allowing more flow through the area. The estuary is fed by no less than three rivers — the Murray, the Serpentine, the Harvey, plus a  number of seasonal streams.

 

The above photo is taken from “The Island” looking at an island in the estuary, the day before yesterday. A quiet, pleasant afternoon…

There were birds about — it is a Ramsar Wetlands Area and an IBA (important bird area). We saw cormorants, duck, terns, gulls, pelicans, egrets, herons, darters, Black Swans, a Whistling Kite (which you can see against the white of the puffy cloud over the trees…)
And then all of a sudden, came a change. Cormorants and gulls and terns began streaming past…

More and more of them arriving by the minute, all heading in the same direction…

To this area above, where pelicans and cormorants were diving like maniacs and other birds gathered to glean the remains of a fish feast.

Until, below, the pelicans and other birds were so thick on the surface, we couldn’t see the water.

This is where we had dinner last night:

Fish and chips, while we looked across at million $ yachts…

Mandurah, the area where we live, is a mixed sort of place. People live here because property is cheaper to buy and rent than closer to Perth (which is 50 minutes away by train, and some 70-80 kms by road).

People live here because it’a a lovely place to retire to: cooler in summer, warmer in winter, lovely places to walk, boat, bike, paddle, fish…and there are a load of retirement homes, villages, lifestyle villages for 45+, etc etc.

And some people live here because if you have the $$ you can live on a canal with your million dollar boat on your own personal jetty…


And if you are one of the latter, you can decorate your palatial home for Christmas and then people pay to come and see them on canal boat trips–which is what we did last night.

Which is, I will admit, all rather lovely. I particularly appreciated the folk who took a whimsical approach to their decoration. And thanks to all who took the trouble to decorate their homes and were gracious enough to wave as we went past! Although I must say, parking your boat in front of the decorations did rather spoil the effect occasionally… Like this one:

Or this one

Or this one

Today it was blowing a gale and squally. So, of course, I had to walk down to the sea.
Birders  will know what I mean. 
When the ocean is wild, with the wind blowing onshore, you can get all kinds of interesting things along our coasts. Shearwaters, petrels, even the odd albatross.

 No such luck today, although I did think for a time that I might have a Wandering Albatross, but it turned out just to be an Australasian Gannet. It was behaving like an albatross though, gliding in the troughs of the waves so effortlessly.

 I love the wind, and there is something that stirs the soul when you look out over an ocean like this and think to yourself: the next stop is Africa.

 Watch out on Monday for a big announcement from my publisher. I also had some champagne-popping good news yesterday but I intend to sit on that for a while until it is finalised.

Yesterday, I took an old friend to explore the Len Howard Conservation Area in Erskine, Mandurah, just outside my door. After a morning birding and walking, we ended up here, where there is now an upscale marina, hotel and fancy houses. Sixty years ago when I was a young girl, it was just The Sticks area, devoid of buildings, called that because of the remains of poles stuck in the water to mark the channel. Anyway, we sat down on a park bench to eat our sandwiches. 

This was the calm scene in front of us at the time:

Peel inlet, The Sticks

A  few pelicans in the distance on the water, the odd seagull or tern or cormorant flying past. A water-logged darter climbed up from the water to the beach and hence onto that structure on the left, so bedraggled that his soaked tail swept the ground like a street sweeper’s wet broom. He then hung out his wings and tail feathers to dry…


As always for beachside picnics, a family of magpies, a raven and several gulls grouped around eyeing us hungrily as we ate our sandwiches.

Male Magpie

Female Magpie

 

Birds everywhere. Everywhere we looked. Pelicans, several species of cormorant, darters, several species of terns, gulls…

All those white bits in the water are cormorant necks!

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Gradually they began to disperse:

Until finally, they had mostly disappeared, almost as quickly as they had arrived:

A few gulls remained for a while — disappointed I suspect, as being unable to dive, they had missed out on most of the feasting — until they too flew off:

And then we were alone again. But it was ten minutes of pure magic…

This is the village… with a rotunda…

One of the streets

And this is our house. Still a bit bare looking…

This is our street, our house towards the end on the left

The village is what is known as a lifestyle village, aimed at people who want to downsize their living space, live more communally yet still be independent. It is quiet (wonderfully so after where I was living!) and as an environmentalist, I appreciate the green living — the catchment of water off the roof, feeding sunlight back into the grid, recycling, scraps to the chooks, and so on.

I was wondering if I’d find the house too small after our last place. But no, it’s just right and so easy to look after. It will look better once the garden grows; I look forward to the flowering of the grevilleas  in our yard. I wake in the morning to the sound of the ravens and the parrots; dusk comes with the flocks of galahs crying their way to their roosts and the silent ibis vees cutting across the sky. I go to sleep with the sound of the Moaning Frog in the garden.