New neighbours
A family of currawongs moved to the neighbourhood a few months ago. Until a couple of weeks ago, I had only heard and seen four to five of them at a time – in the local park, by my window or in a neighbouring tree – and I considered myself lucky. Thanks to a passing neighbour who candidly asked me if I had met the entire family, I discovered that more than fifteen of them meet in the early hours of dawn in the local park I normally visit later in the day.
Well, well, this exciting local intel motivated me to rise earlier than usual to start the day with the full family, which I diligently did on the following days. It was such a special treat. For me, that was.
Something was up
Last Monday though, my body felt too tired and didn’t cooperate with my alarm bell. Instead, I woke up later than usual and took a different route for my morning walk. I heard a song of a currawong which made me turn left instead of right. I paused at the sight of a first currawong on the other side of the street. I pursued my walk, when a second currawong landed on a branch on the opposite side of the street. I crossed the street and observed. A few moments later, a third currawong flew over in the direction of a different local park I rarely spend any time in. I decided to follow the direction of the currawong, out of curiosity. Moving closer to the park, I started hearing the melodic sounds of a band of ten or so currawongs – some perched at the top of a big majestic tree, some circling over it, all singing in harmony.
What was it?
This could have been a purely musical gift to start the week, if it wasn’t for the sound of the leaf blower, loudly and powerfully adding a polluting layer to the cacophony.
Proudly moving a pile of leaves from one side to the other…
‘Great job, Angus’ said the dog owner walking by. ‘Congratulations for a job well done.’
I observed, trying not to melt down in the sensory overload – the smell, the noise, the pollution, the utter disrespect embedded in the tool design.
Perspectives…
From the dog owner’s perspective, this was a job well done. From the altitude of the currawongs, circling in the sky, power was exerted to move leaves from here to there. From where I stood, taking a deep breath to calm my senses and nervous system and stepping away from the bubbling frustration, I wondered:
- when/where am I a leaf blower – exerting energy to blow leaves, despite good intentions?
- when/where am I a dog owner – congratulating a leaf blower on a job well done?
- when/where am I a currawong – seeing a different perspective that might guide to a harmonious alternative?
My sense is that, unfortunately, we are sometimes forced into being leaf blowers – even when we’d rather not admit it – because blowing leaves might be the only measure of success visible to the dog owners. Sometimes, that is the game we need to play, until the conditions have changed enough that we can remember that we were currawongs all along. And then, we get to sing and guide harmoniously – among and despite the noise all around.
