Friday at the lake and everything seems
very relaxed. 
Kwirlam the swamphen and kidjibroon the coot
are doing there thing on the reeds.
Seven yet Pacific black ducklings glide by
with their mother in tow.
A young wardong crow with eyes still black
alights on the branch
of a paperbark above.
The wind is southeast, but light.
The sky blue, with an alto cloud or two.

Under the figs are marangana wood ducks,
yet, maali the swan with four cygnets now large,
two wimbin pink ears, and a few white ibis.

I remark to a couple of grandparents
babysitting how rare it is to see
yet nesting. He replies, ‘Yeah, you can see coots
and swans make their nests from reeds,
but these guys use the bank.”

I wonder if I sound educative when I talk to others,
or when I write this. And then I wonder about the bank itself—
a rare commodity after this wet winter, late kambarang,
and still above 2.05 metres on the ruler.
Bank is prime real estate.
I look again at all the birds
on the bank, under the figs.

The water is clear and still and light-filled 
on the way to the gazebo.
Perfect for spotting yerrign the turtle, if there are any,
but I can’t find them.

At the gazebo, some thick English accents
are excited by the swallows,
the swans, the wagtails: “There’s your willy,”
one man says to another as he takes a selfie
with a woman. I don’t think any of us get it,
until he points the wagtail out again,
and they go.

I’m still looking for turtles, or janjarak the 
black-winged stilt, but can’t see any.
There aren’t even any wimbin pink-ears here.
No musk. While looking I’m trying to remember
what was here yesterday.
No kooridoor the egret either,
on the eastern bank.

Coots and swans and kanamit the welcome swallow.
I give up searching for anything,
and try to ease into the relaxed Friday morning.
And just when I’ve given up on finding more, 
right as I’m watching the coots dive down,
head first, with web-feet working,
coming up like a bubble with a beakfull
of green grass,
there also appears, a few metres beyond,
boodo the blue-billed duck.
Sometimes he appears like this
and I catch my breath, startled,
his head all black, body brown,
and beak sky blue.
He’s looking around, likely just come up from the depths
along the edges.
Coots swim around him.

Then I notice a night heron all orange
in the reeds to the east.

And then a raptor appears from the west, flying east, slightly rufous
in colour—kestrel?—chased and swooped by a cloud of swallows.

Further on, by the island, 
there’s a female musk duck 
(though now I wonder if she wasn’t in fact a bluebill)
who looks at me once, then 
dives back 
down under.