Don Knowler

Morning has broken, like the first morning. Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird. A recollection of Judith Durham singing the hymn Morning has broken came to me the moment I turned on the television news on August 5 to hear of her death. By coincidence blackbirds mentioned in the hymn were singing in my garden, sweeping me back to my teenage years in the 1960s when I first took a serious interest in birds, and at the same time discovered the Seekers and the … [Read more...] about Seeker of freedom out of her cage

The arborists arrived early one morning and I knew that the death knell had finally been sounded on a towering blue gum on a neighbouring property. I watched through gritted teeth as tree climbers scaled the eucalypt’s massive trunk and boughs, cutting branches and slowly lowering them to the ground. The tree – which I estimated to be at least 100 years old – was making way for a housing development, along with a stand of white peppermint gums. The blue gum was a vital … [Read more...] about Blue gum seen in a new light

I crossed Bass Strait last month in search of an eagle, not one of the feathered kind but the symbol of my son’s favourite soccer team, Crystal Palace. The “Eagles” were in town to play another English Premier League team, Manchester United, at the MCG. Although the trip had nothing to do with my interest in birds, when I looked closely at the stylised eagle on the Crystal Palace guernsey, I couldn’t help but be drawn to the powerful symbol the eagle holds in our popular … [Read more...] about The Eagles come to town

A black currawong walked with a stately gait across a wooden table on the deck of the restaurant at the Cascade brewery. Tourists who had gathered for drinks after the brewery tour might well have thought the “black jay” was from central casting, with a role in the script. The lone currawong certainly had star power at the brewery, the bird floodlit in the flash of mobile phones in the fading light. As if from nowhere, the currawong had emerged late afternoon from the … [Read more...] about A link in the chain of Tasmanian history

Flecks of gold glinted in the sun as goldfinches wheeled and danced at Tynwald Park in New Norfolk. The collective noun for a flock of goldfinches is a “charm” but on this occasion I settled for my own term still carrying an essence of poetry, a “chime”. This was the sound of their collective twitter, the many ringing voices that came together in waves in this park on the western bank of the upper River Derwent. There must have been possibly 100 birds, feeding on tiny seeds … [Read more...] about A goldrush comes to the river