Night Life

One of the more interesting night sounds you can hear in the Sydney cityscape on a clear night is the sound of a tawny frogmouth. Think old fashioned agitator washing machine. You could miss it if you didn’t have avid birders to help you hear.

“In Australia there are three species of frogmouth, the Papuan Frogmouth, P. papuensis, is confined to the Cape York Peninsula and is larger, with an orange-red eye. The other species is the Marbled Frogmouth, P. ocellatus, which is similar in size to the Tawny Frogmouth, but is found only in the rainforests of far north Queensland and on the Queensland-New South Wales border, and it has an orange-yellow eye. Both species also occur in New Guinea.

With their nocturnal habit and owl-like appearance, Tawny Frogmouths are often confused with owls, but are actually more closely related to the nightjars. Their feet are weak however, and lack the curved talons of owls. During the day, the Tawny Frog- mouth perches on a tree branch, often low down, camouflaged as part of the tree.”

The thing about being around people who know how to listen is that they’ll teach you how to listen too if you’re teachable. Sometimes being teachable simply equates to being still like in this case. Perhaps it’s my imagination and I’m not sure I can put my finger on it exactly but there seems to be (generally speaking) a discomfort among younger generations to be able to sit alone with themselves. Why is that? And should it matter? And to whom might it matter?

When was the last time you closed your eyes and listened to night sounds of any kind. How much more time will you let go by before you do listen? Personally, I hope you do it sooner rather than later. There’s comething totally invigorating about the practise of hearing for heariing’s beauty. You won’t regret it.