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Tawnies on the Cooks - or - On Being Unobservant

Valerie Atkinson

Where? That cross branch behind those leaves… I can’t see it. Which branch? Oh! The tree behind… Where?

That’s me – chronically unobservant. Have been all my life. As a kid out on the saltbush plains of the Riverina - those ’roos? - Where? You can see why I never joined a bird-watching group… until now.

Bushwalking mate, Dave, three years ago gave me precise instructions, with photos, for locating a nesting pair of tawny frogmouths. The tawnie dad, very obligingly for me, stays in the one place all day on the nest, then hunts at night. Encouragingly I could find him, again and again, and sometimes his mate nearby too. I got hooked on checking them out.

This year the pair by the Boat Harbour produced two adorable chicks. Dave again helped Sue and I discover them. She got binoculars and a new, slower world opened up. As the family moved trees we learnt to discover them by ourselves. The fluffy youngsters grew bigger. Those piercing amber eyes watched us. We had conversations with locals about poetry and dogs and the area's Indigenous history – oh yes! And tawnies…. that are definitely NOT owls!