I had a call from a representative of Jemena the other day. (I get the sense that Jemena is trying to handle this sensitively and didn’t want to be seen as coming down hard on me.) The discussion was around the post-fire photographs of the gasworks buildings, as portrayed in the blog. Jemena was less concerned about the issue of site access than the potential for any person on the site being injured or exposing themselves to dangerous chemicals or fibres.
This is a fair call. The structure of the fire-damaged building is seriously impaired and the there issues with scattered asbestos roof tiles having been broken, thereby exposing fibres. These tiles have been sprayed with a PVA-based suppressant, but it would still be foolhardy to put oneself in danger.
The photos that I use on the blog are sent to me by all kinds of people: there’s a small army of urban explorers out there ducking under fences, jumping gates and hopping over walls. I love getting and using your photos but, in the interests of your personal safety, do take care and please avoid these dangerous sites.
PSA 2: Phoenix
Does anyone remember Jiya, the cockatiel from Hamilton North who could say, among other things, “Show us ya tits!”? That story ended happily, but now Jiya’s little companion, Phoenix, has bolted.
My kids were asking the other day, “What is that weird bird call?” It wasn’t actually a bird, it was Erin tramping the streets calling out “Phoenix! Phoenix!” to every flock of cockatiels in the area. So far, with no luck. I think I saw him looking wet, lonely and bedraggled in a banksia tree on Emerald Street, but since then nothing. I’m starting to have a bad feeling. Pretty well every walk around the creek reveals a scattering of feathers as some wee birdie falls victim to something further up the food chain.
If a feather takes my fancy it might end up in my hatband for a while, though they tend to fall out or get blown away after a few weeks. At the moment there’s a koel tail feather, juvenile magpie, ibis and … er … possibly Phoenix.
The usual black-shouldered kites have been joined around the gasworks by a nankeen kestrel and – for the first time in ages (at least to my observation) – a peregrine falcon, on Wednesday morning. Obviously springtime means everything’s on the go and there are hungry fledglings in countless nests waiting for dinner.
I haven’t found any dead cockatiels with bands, so perhaps there is hope yet that young Phoenix will live up to his name and spring from the ashes. If you do happen to see him, give Erin a call and put her out of misery.