Birds
It was bloody cold
My breath
Laying a trail
Clouding above the currents
I was wading up the middle
Of a mountain stream
the camera and tripod
on my shoulder
the camera bag
banging into my back
with each step
I had left before dawn to get up into the mountains
To get deep into the rain forests
By taking the most direct route
Walking up the rivers and streams
the stream narrowed
with a fallen tree and fern trunks
walking through
a cathedral of ferns
filtering the rising sun
playing with the shadows
startled
I stopped in my tracks
Instinctively
Sitting down
Balls splashing
deep into the freezing mountain water
Two lyrebirds
Completely oblivious
To my presence
In a ritualised
Courting dance
The male mounting the log over the river
Right in front of me
The tail unfolding in the full display
the female
disinterested
hopped on the other log
the male
jumped to the other side
tail
fully extended
quivering
with lyrical calls
the full repertoire
on mimic and mime
gyrating
switching
turning
the female
turned
looking back
at the quivering
insistent male
almost a come on
one following the other
they disappeared
into the clustered privacy
of the tree ferns
as the male circled
in ever decreasing circles
standing
with dripping
cold
numbed balls
I stepped over the log
slippery
sliding
stabilising myself
over mossy river stones
Tentatively walking up the hill
in a radiant, warming glow
of an inner smile
I was just witness
To the most beautiful spectacle!
My mind drifted
As the stream narrowed further
The ferns
Beaten back by lantana
Forming a full
low
woven arch over the stream
the cold creeping up my body
as I ducked into the woven cavern
hearing a swirl
of chirping
a fluttering
a flurry of wings
dropping my balls
into it again
the coursing stream
rippling annoyance
a cloud of finches
circled my head
alighting on the lantana branches
red browed
firetails
star
zebra finches
cavorting
some sitting
looking straight at me
the expressive
oh shit!
Written across their continence
then darting off
others
arrogantly
sitting on my tripod
flipping from one side to other
checking me out
as others whirled
constantly moving upstream
in a tornado of colour
freed
a whirlpool of drifting
small feathers
fluttering down
alighting
on the meniscus of clear running water
swiftly carried away
from a performance
a collective orchestration
of tittle tat conversations
the cloud slowly
swirling out of sight
into the thetic
as I sat transfixed
in the middle of the stream
the chirping ebbing away
oblivious of the cold
sitting in
a quiet
albeit chilled
exhilaration
what a transcendent day!
I hadn’t taken one photo