Home early last night as the sun dipped below the dark grey cloud-bank that had brought us so much rain throughout the day. The sun warmed puddles stretched across roads and pavements where drains had become clogged with fallen gum leaves and small twigs, which had been blown from the trees during the high winds of the past couple of days.

Gently, quietly moving ground doves, small and grey, waddled and called monotonously in the garden. Cockatoos arrived to perch in restless, shrieking groups, flashing brilliant white wings in the dying embers of the sun and rubbing their beaks against the grey bark of the branches and watching the bird feeder with avid eyes.

Galahs appeared, all flaming pink and soft grey, screeching their arrival as they settle and resettle within the trees making much ado about nothing about their landing. Two cockatoos, sitting close together and pruning each others feathers, stop to watch the galahs antics and tut-tutter their folly and stupidity.

Ducks waddle across our lower garden, their beaks forever digging into the soft wet ground looking for grubs and other such tasty morsels. Easily startled they will take flight if disturbed, so contentedly I watch from my vantage point for fear of disturbing them.

Through the trees above me rushed, chattered and twittered small birds, singing their joy at the wet weather. Nosy and gregarious, blackbirds, thrushes, finches, sparrows and wrens clamoured loudly in their pairs and small groups.

A rare but occasional visitor to our garden, a lonely Ibis, sits perched on a dead branch preening itself. Occasionally, it changes position to ease its absurdly long thin legs and stretches its wings enjoying the last of the sunlight little disturbed by the small birds flying close to its perch.

The light changes through sunset to dusk and the gum trees, so shortly before alive with birds, gradually become silent and still as venus blazes its brilliant starlight in the night sky.

A band of visiting cockatooes