Right on cue, like an actor strutting the stage, a striking male yellow-throated honeyeater made his presence felt in the Waterworks Reserve. With the first snows of winter settling on kunanyi/Mt Wellington , the honeyeater always lays claim to a patch of exotic winter-flowering vegetation and he takes on all comers. The flowers of the “Ned Kelly” grevillea are a vital food source in the winter months and they are eyed enviously by other members of the honeyeater family … [Read more...] about Yellowthroat struts the stage
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Dark Mofo enters the soundscape
The duel of the decibels – the chorus at dusk when birds try to outdo each other to dominate the air waves as light fades – was particularly vocal one mid-winter evening. The clinking of currawong, the caw of raven and the trilling of new Holland honeyeater was in competition with another, alien sound. As I walked the streets of South Hobart, I had forgotten that the Dark Mofo winter festival was about to start, even though the night before I had seen city buildings and the … [Read more...] about Dark Mofo enters the soundscape
A silent prayer for a tree
Don Bentley and his silver birch had much in common. It had not become apparent at first but over the years Bentley had discovered a symmetry between their lives. They were soul-mates. Bentley had happened on the tree walking to work one morning. At the start of spring he always took a detour through St David’s Park in the heart of Hobart. He found the dappled glades in spring sunshine, and the songs of the birds, calming before the turmoil of the working day. The park … [Read more...] about A silent prayer for a tree
Wings from the past
I heard it first before its giant shadow fell across me. Not the whoosh of wings you’d think an eagle would make, as it strikes for the kill, dagger talons outstretched. This was more a rustle of feathers, like the whisper of a gentle breeze brushing the grass of a paddock, or the canopy of the rainforest. With slow, deliberate flaps of its wings, the eagle bent its head to observe my every move, not more than 10 metres above me. Its eyes were firmly fixed on mine. I felt … [Read more...] about Wings from the past
Emotion and the orange-bellied parrot
Dawn breaks over Bathurst Harbour as if it’s being sketched in charcoal by the hand of an artist. Distant mountains etched in fine strokes from a sharpened pencil, smudged here and there to portray mist. Hills between mountain and shore in darker shades and rainforest hugging the waters’ edge drawn vertically in a rougher, heavier hand. It’s barely light as I lie in my bunk bed with a view over the stern of the luxury tourist vessel, the Odalisque, moored in a sheltered spot … [Read more...] about Emotion and the orange-bellied parrot