Masked lapwings, Vanellus Miles, are very common in Tasmania. They are also called Spur-wing plovers because of the nasty bone spur on their "wrist" joint that they use to attack anyone, including humans, that get to close to their brood.

Fortunately we had Albert to instruct us during that time in the fine art of Bunny Zen.

One of our most plain-colored but otherwise lovely nectar feeding birds.  

Most of the native shrubs and trees stopped flowering about a month ago, but late flowering garden plants like our African daisy are prolonging the season for a few of our local butterflies.  

Our 21" CRT Monitor started acting up, so we bit the bullet and popped for a 24" flatscreen.

You'll notice that there isn't much actual "house" to be seen in this photo.

We're so spoiled by the birds here (even if some of them, most notably cockatoos, are very noisy).

Hence the underwear blogging (and no, there will not be photos).

Luna, at about 6 months old, with her favorite toy.

When I was four years old, my family adopted a little mutt (a beagle/terrier/poodle mix) from the pound.  I had her until I was 21 - when I finally, and painfully, decided to have her put her down.

Afterwards I used to remark that having had a dog so long, I didn't know that if you dropped food you also had to pick it up.  Muffin was always at my side (especially in the kitchen) and a big chow hound who never missed an opportunity to get an extra snack.

Albert has taken over her "Hoover" mantel.  Usually he scores bits of veggies that drop off the cutting board, but this morning it was oats.

They produced two chicks earlier this year, but I haven't seen them for awhile.  One chick disappeared pretty quickly after they fledged, and the other went missing a bit after.  I suspect that both were predated by Kookaburras or something similar.