The Tasmanian currawong was a sight to behold. Jet-black matt plumage, ebony bill, mad orange eye and flashes of brilliant white at the tips of the wings and tail. It fluttered about the Waterworks Reserve, at times seemingly coming within touching distance. The lone bird had been a godsend on a quiet day without birds. I had been leading a bird walk and had struggled to point out any birds of interest. The satin flycatcher I had staked out previously failed to show (I … [Read more...] about Survival of the fittest
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Scrubtit in a new light
The tiny bird, so small it could dance in the palm of your hand, had found its place in the sun. In the dim and dank world of the fern glade, the scrubtit had emerged from the shadows and found a warm rock on which to perform a merry dance. This was the male’s territory of fern frond and tumbling stream and he wanted the world to know it. The little scrubtit, barely 10 centimentres long, is one of the forgotten birds of wood and forest, easily overlooked as nature lovers … [Read more...] about Scrubtit in a new light
Men behaving badly
A RAINBOW spread across the ocean, framing storm-tossed waves and distant, grey mountains. As if on cue, to make the panorama complete, a lone gull zig-zagged across the wave tops, before rising slightly and flying smack bang though the rainbow’s arc. We stood in awe, a trio of men behaving badly, who had gone to the clifftop at Dodges Ferry not to watch birds but to freshen up after an afternoon of what can be euphemistically termed as beer and wine tasting. We shouldn’t … [Read more...] about Men behaving badly
Song of the mountain
THE folk who live on the mountain at Fern Tree pride themselves on being a little different from the rest of the denizens of Hobart. They are tougher, hardier and their closeness to the whims and moods of nature ensures they band together in times of adversity, watch out for each other when blizzards or bushfire threaten. They all have a story to tell, and tell it frequently and loudly. I’m not talking about the human residents of Fern Tree, although much of what I have … [Read more...] about Song of the mountain
Flight back to childhood
LIKE the seasons, a human life comes full circle. The seasons have a symmetry and I’ve found that life too often follows a pattern, events and experiences that had gone before are apt to return, even if in a slightly different form shaped by the passing years. On a rainy and windswept morning when commonsense should have found me at home I came across a lone Cape Barren goose at the Waterworks Reserve and immediately I was transported back to memories of my childhood and … [Read more...] about Flight back to childhood