Silence, I have discovered, is a rare commodity in the tropical night. With the passing of the Wet, frog operas have ceased, and thus, the dark hours are starker, no longer vibrating with wild rain-wo...
When visiting the Melbourne Museum last month, I was mesmerized by the gorgeous butterfly displays. I stared longingly at brilliant green and black male birdwings and thought If only… This morning, ...
The early sun was still gentle when I strolled into Bicentennial Park in pursuit of birds, recording all that I saw and heard. Many familiar acquaintances – flashy magpies and magpie-larks, hissing ...
There are Canadian trees that tear at my soul – white pines in Canadian Shield country, their flaring, wind-swept boughs dancing power against stormy skies; paper birches, the beauties of the boreal...