In familiar parlance, around the bars at Mt. Buller, “birds” was a very common word (today, something highly sexist as well as condescending) used among boys to talk about girls, in the context of the resort social scene.
The birds I want to discuss though, though, are the ones with feathers, that flew around us, or sang to wake us up in the morning when we would have rather stayed in bed forever.
Many of them sounded quite differently than what visitors hear at most ski resorts around the world where the few flying creatures left in the cold of winter were a few lone birds of pray, some ravens or magpies like we find in Park City.
Not at “exotic” Mt. Buller, that was home to a variety of parrots, like the Cockatoos, they were also Kookaburras and the Crimson and Eastern Rosellas that stood out, like true “birds of paradise”.
Most of them looked and sounded like no other birds encountered in the European Alps or the North American mountains during their long and mostly black-and-white winter season.
These birds were hot, always looked super cool and reminded me of paradise!
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