Two in the bush
Starting tomorrow and for the rest of the week the Aussie Bird Count – the avian census that also happens to be Australia’s biggest citizen science event – is on across the country.
And while the Count is very important for working out how the nation’s birds are faring, it may be the connection created between humans and the natural world that has the greater impact.
In the last couple of weeks on my way to and from work I’ve been looking along the Merri Creek for a good spot to do the count – the result has been an unexpected mental health revelation.
The thing about doing the Count is you have to slow down and focus.
Looking for birds reduces my usual stride to a shuffle. I stop regularly; scanning behind and above for a while seeing not much more than a couple of noisy miners and then suddenly I’ll be face to face with a formerly invisible raven on a branch just metres away from me.
We’ll look at each other for a while and then I’ll glance down to the Creek and there’s a swamp-hen I didn’t see before and when I check back up to the branch my formerly hidden raven has been joined by a thrush I also never saw.
I stay still, breathe deep, get a bit dreamy-eyed and out come some little birds – a pair of gray fantails bobbing through a Christmas bush and there’ll be a couple of tiny puffball scrubwrens chittering away below in the leaf litter.
In these moments time stands still and my senses become fully tuned-in – other birds appear – black ducks in a hurry zip past at head height, up in the sky an ibis will fly over and a magpie lark returns to its neat pottery bowl-like nest sitting on a big branch over the creek that I had no idea about previously but is now right there in front of me as plain as day!
Where did all these birds come from? They’re not normally here, but of course I’m usually just too in my head to see them.
I head off for work and after being in the bird-zone I find I’m incredibly calm for the rest of the day – no issue phases me, arduous meetings are a breeze – there’s just this feeling that everything is going to be okay.
Normally sitting meditation doesn’t do it for me, could bird counting be the gateway to that elusive calm? I can’t wait to get back to the Creek at the end the day.
I discover Zen-like inner-peace isn’t the only benefit of bird counting.
For kicks there’s the four red wattlebirds that chase each other up and down the Creek at warp speed in and out of tree canopies. Their synchronised manoeuvres, vertical dives and dramatic mid-air stalls are some of the most breathtaking aerobatics you’ll ever see.
For mystery there’s the white-faced heron I watch one morning collecting sticks on the path to make its nest, which it has now somehow so expertly hidden I cannot for the life of me find it again.
For laughs there’s a couple of Kookaburras that perch on someone’s back fence just above a rooster’s run – I’m not sure if they’re there in solidarity or to stir him up – but when he crows they join in.
And finally for sheer delight, on some lucky afternoons sleeping on a low dead branch tucked tightly up against the trunk of a gum tree I see a tawny frogmouth completely oblivious to having just been named Australian Bird of the Year after being runner-up for three years.
The great Aussie Bird Count is on from the 20th-26th October you can register here.
Have a great week
Chris
