IT WAS a lot like that scene from Wake in Fright, where the bloke wakes up with a hangover in the heat and flies and weirdness and it's, well, all a bit of a fright.

I had to remind myself that it was OK to wake up in a shed because that's where I currently live.

I staggered outside into the sunlight and confronted a yard full of busted machinery and junk.

Immediate to hand was a decaying truck and rusting Morris Minor, a scatter of mowers and engine blocks and, curiously, a beer barrel up on a welded tank stand.

The place is heavily seeded with tools because it's all actually a work in progress. Pretty slow progress. And it's also a little bit scary.

A hiss approaching around the truck forms up into a giant white goose with wings up and gaping serrated beak well extended. He is grubby with the black grease of the environment ingrained in his feathers and undercarriage. This bloke hates everybody and bites like a small dog and lurks around this junkyard maze like a troll. There are sticks strategically placed about for people to defend themselves in case of an ambush.

Now headache aside, I quite like him. What with our attack-peacock at home, I've got a bit of a soft spot for troublesome poultry and this goose has added an edge to my current accommodation.

He shares the domain with some fine looking chooks, attended by a big black rooster and a cute little fluffy one who's always trying to get the hen's attention but is ignored.

Three pleasant looking ducks are constantly being assaulted by a very randy Indian Runner which is a breed that stands erect and I used to like a lot more before I got to know one.

He jumps on the defenceless duckettes and bites their necks while he's at it as the rest of them stand around looking concerned and confused. At least there's plenty of stuff around to chuck at him and put a kink in his style.

Anyway, sad to say the old goose got a bit over-confident the other day and fronted a ute coming up the driveway. He wasn't universally liked and some would say the vindictive old bastard had it coming, but the place definitely lost something when he got turned into foie gras under a HQ Holden.

Now he guards the front gate under a newly planted lilly-pilly. They were a bit sad about it in the house, but their spirits are looking up with the news that somebody-or-another has an emu looking for a home.

Apparently he's a bit of a problem.