WoodenSpoon

This noisy miner didn’t make it to Christmas.

A noisy miner, exhausted after a long squawk, makes a festive feast for various arthropods

Since I started my Apprenticeship (farm studies, majoring in applied ecology and construction jobs of all descriptions) I’ve begun to feel a strange compulsion, nearly as strong as the attraction of female flesh that beset me at adolescence. And like puberty, it has been a lonely period of self-doubt, shame and finally acceptance and rejoicing. Now I feel confident enough to come out and say that I have become a connoisseur of fences. I find it hard to keep my attaention on the road as I drive through the country admiring the firm, perky lines of a fresh young fence, the timber not yet bleached to grey by the sun, wire taut as a violin string; or a stately old hand-made post and rail bulwark possibly 100 years old, lopsided in places but still holding strong, defiantly resisting the ravages of tiem and termite.

Like cars, once you get your eye in, the variety of styles and designs begs to be catalogued, so here is the first of perhaps more than a few extracts from my new but growing collection of fence photos.

In this one, a round gatepost is stayed against the strain of the wire fence by a horizontal beam and a tensioned diagonal wire. Notice how grooves have been cut in the posts by chainsaw to guide and hold the wire. It is perhaps a little overengineered but that is a hallmark of the hand of Simon Stenhouse.

A nice round post strainer assembly, Deua river, downstream of Araluen NSW

Some news from the hen house:

• Two hens have been sitting on eggs (in the same cream can) since early December. If they can keep up the effort, we may have chicks by Christmas.
• My grant application to elevate Bush Chooks to Federally-Funded Landcare Hero Status has failed :(. I received the ‘dear John’ letter in the same week that $10 Billion was thrust down the throats of anyone (except dole bludgers of course - what would they do with money?) with a welfare account. I note that the letter was dated 27 November but the envelope was postmarked 9 December. That’s eight business days to fold the letter, lick the envelope and pop it in the post.

While scouring the net for an image of Jeffrey Smart’s “Container Train in Landscape” I stumbled on an old blog by someone called Mary Forrest. She can’t be famous; she hasn’t a wikipedia entry.

She gives Robin Williams a good shellacking, quite rightly, before turing her attention to James Bond movies with this gem:

I just take note of how brash and unreasonable and boob-like Americans tend to look in these films. I guess it must mean that that’s the way we like to see ourselves. Because we’re the ones these movies are being sold to, aren’t we? Are we missing something here?

Don’t forget, these are the people who say they could care less.

BoM’s view of the current situation (may change rapidly).