The kingfisher chooses a perch from which to call and be heard. I choose this perch when I need to listen.
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I took lots of videos while at the Royal Albatross Centre at Taiaroa Head. This photo was an accidental capture.
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When it comes to the garden, I want to be folded in, to fade in, to become part of it. I long to be—for a moment—place, not person.
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When gifted an early morning,
when something wakes you, holds you
in its pre-dawn hand and will not let you go…
Maybe this is a fairytale with a happy, only slightly macabre, ending.
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It’s not just the birds I know
singing from places I recognise,
landmarks I chart and check by sound—
Sailing ahead down the tar-sealed road,
a shadow, wide-winged and languid.
Seagull and sun behind me
pull like a kite on invisible string.
I found this beautiful video created by Dennis Hlynsky showing the flight patterns of birds and insects.
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Following swallows…
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A beautiful video of a kereru doing a display dive.
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It starts each night with the tui. Singing from the taller cypress, gingko, and macrocarpa, they circle the garden from tree to tree, playing the rim of a singing bowl…
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I never expected to meet ruru this way, dead. The dark tail feathers were standing up, their fan shifting from side to side in the draught of the passing cars.
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Maybe magpies aren’t thugs at all. They collect shiny things, which is an aesthetic I can appreciate. Maybe they are just waiting for me to soften…
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