From my deck the familiar Frogmouth lump in the tree seemed to have doubled. She-oak bark camouflaged as this bird is, my eyes always need to peer hard to work out this lump’s doings.
But there were two of them, one on the nest and one on an adjacent branch. Great; a pair!
And then I realised that the nest sitter was now sitting on more than sticks.
Two fluffy heads were somehow fitting beneath that mother, squashed into that always too-small nest in the crook of the She-Oak.
‘Welcome!!’ I called, delighted beyond measure that in my new home this gift had been delivered while I was at the Pilliga, trying to protect such natural wonders.
The Frogmouth chicks seemed to swell as I watched. I was full of questions.
However will they and the mother fit on that little nest for very long?
How long will the male stay around?
Had he only arrived for the hatching or had I just not seen him before?
Had they taken shifts to sit on the eggs?
Neither adult replied, but one chick opened a golden eye wider and gave me a most adult ‘look’. Yes, I know; I am ignorant.
But oh, so grateful!