29 April 2019


Some mornings are meant for bird-watching.
Some mornings a bird pops out to look at me.

It happened today; not a red, Red Robin a bob-bob-bobbin, but an Eastern Yellow Robin. My bird books say they can be common on the coast, but our farm is 3 hours away from the sea. That means I can classify this little one as being a bit of a rarity, at least around here.

I’ve been turning sprinklers on to water my garden early, around the time commonly known in Australia as ‘Sparrows Fart’. Back out after an hour to turn the hoses off again, I kept hearing a repetitive piping sound. I looked up as the whistling came closer. 

A bright yellow-breasted bird popped up in a pine tree above me. I saw its soft grey-blue back. And, it was watching me at the same time, tilting its head both ways like a curious pup. It piped up and gave me a sweet serenade, though it was a bit like a broken record. 

As usual, my camera was inside. I crept away to fetch it and the Robin followed, flitting from each tree towards the house. Cypress Pines were glistening in sunlight and the bird looked as cute as.

Coming back out, I couldn’t see it for a bit. The cheeky devil flew over my head then. Landing in another pine and an old hop bush metres away. Calling out again, jumping perches to see better.
This Eastern Yellow Robin wasn’t used to seeing any people. 

I was as rare to it as the bird was to me.

Robin stayed stalking me for another 6 minutes. If it hadn’t I would have chased it all about the yard stalking it instead. I am always chasing after some small feather baby as it flies from me and my camera; it is my favourite hobby.

A lot of people see birds; there are birdwatchers, birders and bird photographers all over the world. Even if that special yellow-breasted bird hadn’t stayed for a brief photo session I would have been happy. 
It’s not every morning you get to make a connection like that.
It was gold.


  1. Our robins in Europe used to follow wild pigs in the forests, hoping to catch anything wriggly that the pigs unearthed as they snouted their way through the ground. Then when humans arrived, they transferred their allegiance to us, watching as we worked the earth. Maybe your yellow robins have followed a similar route, starting with whatever beasties you have that plough for roots?

    1. Maybe you're right DDS, all now is that the robin was stalking me. It was a new experience as most birds fly away if you get too close to them. This one perched above me in the tree and definitely checked out what I was doing. It felt weird and unexpected; but of course I loved it.