Walking the grassland and large tree area of the lake today, approaching the last of three known tawny frogmouth nests, and I see that a large branch has fallen down and now sits near the base of the nest. On getting closer it’s clear that the branch would have fallen right on the nest in the tree next door if a couple of smaller branches hadn’t deflected it and caused it to fall slightly further east. On standing at the canopy of the now fallen branch, I look directly up to see if the owl is still there in the nest—and sure enough she is.

What a moment that must have been to hear the tearing of the bark of the tree—maybe in the night—and then to hear it come crashing down onto your own tree, only to miss by a couple of wingspans. I look at her now. She remains perfectly still.