Thanks, Chris - some scattered replies -

I used to rescue magpie chicks from the roadside each year and feed
them sausage mince.  They'd stay for a year or so, until they flew
away to become proper magpies, and made most charming pets; we had
one which startled the local farmers by _running_ away with 1080
laced carrots in its beak for a game - one chased it all around the
perimeter of one of his paddocks, until it dropped the carrot, hopped
on his hand and said "hello".  Another liked the rotary clothes line,
and would hang from the towels going round and round, barking like a
dog, and yet another decided it was a kitten and would lie down with
the litter suckling their mother or tumble around with them when they
were playing.  I don't know how they got on with other magpies
subsequently, whether they were permanently scarred by their identity
crises, but they seemed most capable birds, and after they flew off
we'd hear rumours of them from the surrounding district, so I think
they survived.  I'm not so successful with other birds, though I
rescue a few here in the suburbs, once a very noisy honeyeater.

In a former life I trained as a cadet on the now-defunct Melbourne
Herald and have in ensuing years worked for all the major newspaper
proprietors - not that that says much in this place of highly
concentrated media ownership - and so have a lingering allergy to
Australian newspapers, which I only buy on an irregular basis these
days.  Too much bad faith, though of course and as always there are
exceptions.  Yes, Robert Fisk is one of the few journalists worth
respecting.  There's another I rate very high, Ryszard Kapuscinski,
though I've only read his books, and I don't think he works as a
journalist any more.  Thinking also here of Camus, his pieces for
COMBAT and those others on Algeria, and Martha Gellhorn.  I think the
connection between high quality journalism and poetry is courage.

Ignoring a book is I have come to hope a very important part of
writing it.  I've been writing three full-length prose works; the
really difficult one is now lying fallow.  The less difficult one I
am currently pondering: I want for this the old-fashioned magery of
story telling.  It's quite difficult to achieve that simplicity, I'm
finding, as I fiddle with draft four... but if I find it, perhaps I
can find out how not to tell a story...

Cheers

Alison





>The pee wees chicks are thriving. Starting to lose most of their down
>feathers now and should be flying in two weeks or less. I am feeding them
>Aussie beef sausage mince and they love it (glad something likes the
>revolting stuff) and water from a pink straw. They tell me in no uncertain
>terms when they are hungry and can even tell me if they want food or water.
>They also chirp sweetly when I stroke them.
>
>Was going to say a while back i was glad to see  Robert Fisk mentioned. A
>journalist I admire. I look forward to reading some of David Marr's features,
>too. It is just Australia (or me) or do others see a close affinity between
>journalism (quality writing of, I mean) and poetry?
>
>Also, Alison, hope your difficult novel is not being too difficult. I am
>ignoring mine a little right now although I must admit I never thought I
>would have to do so much research and hard thinking, even when I expected it
>would take a lot of research and thinking.
>
>best
>
>Chris Jones
>
>
>
>On Thursday 03 January 2002 17:36, you wrote:
>
>>  Hope your pee wees survive, Chris!  I seem to have about 50 per cent
>>  success with chicks.
>>
>>  Best
>>
>>  Alison


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Alison Croggon

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