Don't call me a galah, you galah!

"Darling, who's that strange man with the camera?"

"He's nobody, sweetness. He's the Sandy Beach Almanac bloke, a real galah."

You should never take offence if an Australian calls you a galah. It just means you're a bloody idiot and it's not meant to be taken personally.

The galah is Cacatua roseicapilla to some scholars and Eolophus roseicapilla to others, I think because they're still trying to work out from DNA whether they are more closely related to the cockatiel, to Major Mitchell's Cockatoo or to a box of rocks.

I snapped these two fat galahs a few minutes ago, with a currawong in the background. They were the only things not making a racket behind the beach today, because the she-oaks (Casuarina), ti-trees (Melaleuca) and a few other things are in full flower and the circus has come to town. More of that tomorrow.

I've seen thousands of galahs at a time, out west, where the aim of the game for most is to avoid hitting as many as possible with your windscreen, and for some, to score as many as can be hit in a day. I know people who tell me they've seen galahs by the hundreds of thousands, near wheat silos mainly (galahs are grazers), and I believe them. I know others who have told me they've seen millions, and they're just plain liars.

Like their cousins the other cockatoos, these fellas will live long if they don't succeed in their Mission Statement of getting to Sydney attached as a mascot on someone's windscreen. You should never get a galah for a pet. Firstly, how would you like to live in a cage (apologies to office workers), and secondly, who will look after it when you're dead and gone?

(Click thumbnail to enlarge)