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Willy Wagtail Hop Maps

Zoe Sadokierski

Sitting on the grassy slope behind the farmhouse, pen in hand, I wait for the sheep to move. I am at Coorah, a property in central west NSW, with Tom Lee – whose family have farmed this land for six generations – and our colleague Jacquie Kasunic. For three days we are here bumping about in the ute, pushing through burr-starred paddocks, scrambling up rocks scabbed with lichen; Tom describes the land and history of things on it while Jacquie and I document: she with camera, me with pen. I wait for the sheep to move. I want to replicate an exercise described in Chester Eagle’s ‘Mapping the Paddocks’ in which he maps the movement of sheep, but it is heavily hot. Sheep, it seems, are unmappably docile in this heat. The entire landscape is so still it might be an Arthur Streeton painting. Then on the grass in front of me, a willy wagtail hops. Pauses. Shakes its tail feathers, hops again. Calls – a peculiar scratchy-squeak which is often described as ‘sweet pretty creature’ but reminds me of a baby’s rattle. I put pen to paper and map the movement. Over and over, entranced.