The Frogmouth

A bird that doesn't usually let you get close, and something about this one felt different.

A tawny frogmouth landed on the gum tree outside this week and just stayed. Long enough that I had time to get the camera, get close, get still, and it never moved.

The frogmouth perched on a broken branch against the gum tree's trunk

A year and a half

It's been a year and a half since my dad passed, and I feel him in nature most of the time now — it's just where I look for him. But this one was different. The way it sat there, watching me back, felt less like the everyday version of that and more like something else entirely.

I don't have a better word for it than mystical. Either way, I got the photograph, and I'm glad I did.

Close detail of the gum tree's bark, peeling back in strips

Looking straight up the gum tree's trunk and branches against a teal sky

The frogmouth seen from further back, almost lost in the surrounding foliage against the trunk

Close detail of the gum tree's leaves overhead

The frogmouth with its eyes almost closed, settled against the trunk

The frogmouth again, eyes closed, a tighter crop on the same pose

Another section of the gum tree's bark, grey and rust-coloured where it's peeling

The trunk where the bark has shed in pale strips, down to the smooth wood beneath

The frogmouth once more, still not moving, eyes closed against the light

The frogmouth through a soft foreground blur of branches, light fading toward dusk

The frogmouth in shadow among criss-crossing branches as the light dropped