The following poem was shortlisted for the next issue of Plumwood Mountain. Sooty Owls are one of the Australian birds that most impress me. Charcoal-grey with white spots, they favour valleys sporting dense eucalypt woodlands, are rarely seen, offer up falling bomb calls and shifting trills, possess massive dark eyes and intimidating talons. Not a bird you'd want to piss off. The first Sooty I ever saw was in the Devils Coach House at Jenolan Caves, one of the most sublime/gothic places in NSW. The poem here is factual and from an experience in 2012. I dedicate it to an old mate who's a fine birder.
SOOTY OWL
For Steve Edwards
As you had never met
a Sooty Owl before,
I guided us to Kioloa's
thinning upland reaches
fifteen minutes after
the horizon gulped daylight,
targeted a knotted gully, cast
a long line of Sooty-mimicry
into bleeding emerald gloom
for ten shivery minutes,
slowly reeled in everything
you depended upon.
LJ, June 19 2014.
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