THL#08 – Tawny Frogmouths, A haiku moment, and “What else is there?”

I’m really enjoying being back in my hometown, and Spring has definitely started to arrive. It’s been crazy warm this week!

Not sure what happened to Winter? There were very few days when I really felt the cold, and it’s certainly not how I remember it being. Whatever happened to freezing my fingers off at -7°C?

Field Notes

One of my favourite places in my hometown is Lake Inverell.

It’s a great place for wildlife, particularly birds, and has been for as long as I can remember.

You’ll often find me up here in the late afternoon birdwatching, taking photos, and writing haiku.

Last week was particularly exciting though because it was the first time I’d ever seen a tawny frogmouth.

And there were two of them!

Finding a tawny frogmouth is a real test of your powers of noticing!

I must have sat there for more than an hour the first time I spotted them. Just observing.

Mostly, they remained absolutely still and silent, high up in the fork of a tree, beautifully camouflaged against the leaves and bark.

But I did see some “action” when a group of noisy miners decided the tree was theirs and started to harass them.

Both birds raised their beaks high and let out harsh calls, but otherwise remained exactly where they were. Eventually, the noisy miners gave up and moved on.

Otherwise, it was just the occasional flick of an eyelid or the slow turn of a head. Their careful movements reminded me of sloths. Not that I’m an expert on sloths.

As people came past, they’d stop and ask what I was looking at. I’d point out the tawny frogmouths and lend them my binoculars so they could get a better look. Most of them had never seen one before either.

I was curious how long the frogmouths would stay in the same spot. So when I went back to the lake almost a week later, I went straight to the tree and looked up.

And they were still there.

In exactly the same spot.

A Haiku Moment

My reading of this famous haiku by Bashō is that it’s calling out the folly of war.

Wars tend to be fought over land and territory. But when the war is over, and the men have died, nature simply reclaims the territory for itself.

The warriors’ dreams are gone.

The summer grasses remain.

Whether this is what Bashō had in mind when he wrote it, I don’t know. But this is how I read it.

And leaving room for the reader to interpret a haiku in their own way is one of the superpowers of the form.

What’s your take on this haiku?

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Attention Practices

There are lots of little questions that can kick your noticing powers and curiosity into action.

I recently came across one from prolific nature journaller Alex Boon recently, and I really like its simplicity:

What else is here?

It’s such a simple question, but I think it could take you a long way.

You notice a bird calling from a tree.

Then perhaps you notice the leaves moving around it.

Then a patch of sunlight.

A tiny insect making its way across a leaf.

A sound coming from somewhere behind you.

One thing leads to another.

The question keeps you looking, rather than deciding that you’ve seen everything there is to see.

What else is here?

Something to Try

Next time you’re outside, find somewhere to sit for 15 minutes.

Notice whatever catches your attention first.

Then ask the question.

Keep going for the full 15 minutes. You can jot down what you notice, sketch it, or just sit and pay attention.

There’s no right or wrong way to do it.

Just see how much you notice once you give yourself the time to look.