Last chance to see Nicolas Dillon's birds

Do you know where Two Fat Indians is on Manchester st? Well, right nearby is the Brooke Gifford art gallery. Go up the stairs for a peek of New Zealand outdoors, indoors. Stunning birds. Absolutely fabulous. Well, well, worth a look. Especially if you like simplicity, impressionism, and native NZ birds.

I was fishing through the recycle bin at work for something to read when I came across a 2 week old bit of newspaper with a couple of bird paintings and a brief description. As a fellow bird painter, I knew then and there that I just had to check it out.

There are only 13 pieces on display (I curiously noted that all but one of them were painted this year -that's some serious effort in oils) each with a price tag of 2-4K which I consider a bit steep when you can still see the whiteness of the canvas showing through in places. I guess that's where impressionism comes in. From a distance they are flawless masterpieces (even with the somewhat novel subject placement), but close up each one bears witness to a flying brush.

My detail-oriented mind has trouble reconciling such apparent hastiness with an accurate depiction of these beautiful creatures. Yet there it was before me plain as day, I know what I saw -the individual character of each bird captured on canvas. I will just add that the birds, as the stars of the show, ARE brilliant, it's the backgrounds that are a bit wishy-washy.

They are delightful and enthralling works and I highly recommend a viewing if you're in town on Saturday. Open from 11-1:30 What are you waiting for?

Redpolls

(Click title to see picture)

Guess what I saw when I just happened to be kneeling on the floor gazing out the lounge window? A redpoll! I know, I couldn't believe it either! This was only the third time in my life I've seen them and I didn't even have to leave the comfort of my on home.

Redpolls are primarily seed eaters so they can often be found foraging in vacant lots nibbling up the weed seeds. To the untrained eye they just look like sparrows with a splat of red on their crown (head).

The female I saw was deftly twirling her way up and around the dandelion stalks. Then I saw the male barely a metre away from me through the glass. It looked like someone had slit his throat with two streams of blood trikling down his breast.

I stayed transfixed for those few minutes, even managed to open the window and hear them twittering away to each other, and then they were off leaving my garden void of dandelion seeds (I knew I was culivating them for a reason).

These Shoes Were Made For Walking

Time to shed some light on the dimness of my wit. I have new walking shoes, and for some reason thought it would be good to christen them with a three hour walk. Oh why?

Took the day off yesterday -just because I could, annual leave building up and all that. I felt I needed time to recharge and do some beholding. So off I went up to Victoria park, did the H.G.Ell walkway (goes from the Sign of the Takehe to the Sign of the Kiwi).

The wind was whipping a mighty gale through the pines or so it sounded. From there I took the loop tracks round Sugar Loaf Transmitter. Once I rounded the leeward side the wind dropped completely off and all seemed relatively silent despite the roadworks going on in Dyer's Pass.

Now I could fully appreciate the birdsong: the grey warblers were warbling, the skylarks were larking, the yellowhammers were hammering, the bellbirds were tolling, the slivereyes were silvereying nah? Well maybe that's a bit much. But it was lovely. All was harmonious. And yes, I did see all those birds plus: chaffinch, dunnocks and blackbirds. The grey warblers are a favourite of mine, like little mice with wings.

“What if someone's sitting on 'my' seat?” I thought, as I drew nearer to the stone seat with my picnic. But no one was, so I could enjoy the view over the harbour by myself. Just me and my lunch and my book.

As I was coming back down I heard an invasively loud droning like an aeroplane flying just overhead but it didn't recede. Then I looked up and saw the transmitter festooned with all it's dishes and realised it was just the wind. Walked a little further under the cliff and the sound went off, walked back a few meters and it was 'on' again. Sound goes on, sound goes off, sound goes on, sound goes off.

Which reminds me, does anyone know what the thing on top of the hill is? Not the actual transmitter but the huge round concrete thing? I saw it when I went off the path, I didn't go right up close to look and to be honest I probably shouldn't have been there at all. But just curious.

Coming back down, the wind was amazing, I'm sure my hair was actually standing on end (see photos). I had to lean in to it to get anywhere and I would've toppled over had it suddenly stopped. Yeah, it gave me a wind headache but it sure was worth it.

Then I came home and made pizza for tea. A topping finish to a brilliant day. And yes, my feet survived the breaking in of the new shoes without so much as a blister afterall. How nice.