Tag: birdlife

Posted in Bush poetry, Nature, Poetry

Off Upon a Bushwalk!

Posted on by Tracey L. Bhattarai 
Boots on ‘n’ out the door,
For ‘tis winter outback once more!
The safest season to head into the Aussie bush,
To go camping, play and explore!

Post planning, supplies packed, checkin’s organised,
Venturing through the bushland can be an adventure to open eyes,
For autumn rains and cooler weather trigger winter’s abundance,
Though sans knowledge or local guidance the bush can be a fool’s demise…

Yet when one’s off upon a bushwalk on a clear, cool afternoon,
One can revel in wonders to be found all around,
From wildlife equally enjoying the crisp winter air,
To the rainbow of parrots, wrens and finches singing sweetly their own sound.

There’s fuzzy rain created moss covering’s beneath many a tree,
Tall seed headed grasses wave upon the gentle breeze,
Many are gum loaded with buds soon to flower,
The energy of the bushland’s generally one to empower;

Then comes the element of discovering that which came before,
With Animal tracks, that long forgotten now overgrown and near ancient trees galore,
Thus exploring in the amazing Australian bushland is far from ever a bore,
For one can never know exactly what each bushwalk has in store!

Posted in Bush poetry, Nature, Poetry

Dawn upon the Outback day.

Posted on by Tracey L. Bhattarai 
As the sun’s light seeps into the outback,
The bushland’s as still as can be,
For the nocturnal creatures have gone to bed,
And the daytime array are just now waking to see…

Thus there’s a stillness in the dawn time,
Where only those from dusk chirp and whir,
For even the earliest bird’s still in their nest,
Though Morning activities are starting to stir…

As a ray of sunshine finally finds its way,
As does the first birds sweet chirpy song,
Animals awaken with the warming light,
With this day anew yet to have a wrong.

Soon starts the chorus of magpie’s warble,
Unmistakable amongst the melodious array of a birdlife orchestra,
Whilst emu’s bass is only heard by those nearby,
And cockatoo’s shriek ‘tis much like a rookie fiddlers beta.

Before too long the dawn blends into morning, 
The birdlife settles into their day’s mundane,
The dew drops dried and reptiles warmed,
The sunkissed outback life ‘tis one uniquely within its own seraphic lane.
Posted in Bush poetry, Nature, Poetry

When the Kingfisher’s come to call.

Posted on by Tracey L. Bhattarai 
As the butterfly’s flutter amongst the flowers,
Upon a cool late summer morn,
A Kingfisher or three come to visit our garden,
Bringing many to their window to fawn.

For these quiet pocket sized hunters,
Are quite a sight to behold,
For though they could hide in a coffee cup,
They perch in clear sight bright and bold.

With sapphire plumage highlighted with yellow,
A white collar and breast to match,
A clear shot of one with a good camera,
‘Tis something of a rather rare catch.

For they tend to be always diligent,
Ready to be come and gone in a moment,
Not wary but mindful of the cat,
For they don’t find him a worthy opponent.

Though ‘tis their spear like beak and speed,
That they deem to be their prized assets great,
Despite their unmissable characteristics,
They rarely slip to fate. 

For when the Kingfisher’s come to call,
‘Tis a delight to one and all,
Unless you happen to be their prey,
They tend to leave one in a happier day.

Posted in Nature, Poetry, Thought Provokers, Uncategorized

There’s a Bird…

Posted on by Tracey L. Bhattarai 
There’s a bird at the bottom of my garden,
With plumage of blue and brown,
He brings his flock each a mere inch tall,
Enjoying a moment with succulents abound.

There’s a bird flitting around my garden, 
Whom thinks they’re the king of the yard!
Despite their small stature and affinity to match the cat,
This black and white one’s quite the bard.

There’s a bird strutting along in my garden,
Who’s a rare visitor white as a ghost,
Enjoying washing the dust away,
Before flying off fear to be toast. 

There’s a brown plumed bird visiting my garden,
With it’s beak reaching far above the fence!
Even if disturbed won’t run away,
Despite the dogs being a noisy menace. 

There’s a water bird upon the clothesline,
Although soon under the sprinkler,
Feathers dark as dark can be,
Unafraid this feathered friend often does linger.

There’s a bird upon the veranda,
So tiny as can be,
And just like his feathery counterparts,
Flits as he likes, wild and free.