This morning I found a big ball of feathers in the tree where the parrots usually feed. A brown blob looking like the dust from a vacuum cleaner. When an inquisitive bird flew in to investigate -- the ball of feathers moulded unto wings and flew away.
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I think it was a Southern Boobook owl, also known as Mopoke. Whenever I hear Mopoke’s calling in the blackness of night, I remember my father. He could call mopoke from the depths of throat and have the big birds reply enthusiastically across the dark distance as to a newfound mate.
Words to Walk With:
From Mopoke by Louis Lavater
"Mopoke! …. Mopoke!
The vague profound
Of forest night
Is in the sound."
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