If you grow up as a kid in Australia you learn to respect the power and beauty of nature. For me the bush is in my blood, even though I love the city and even after being away from it for so many years, or maybe because of that, I feel the pull of it and long for the space. The silence, and the sounds, especially Australian birds, there is nothing that compares to them, or that makes me miss Australia more.
Living in Europe you constantly hear birdsong, and it’s lovely and I love having them in my garden, but I miss the cheekiness of willy-wagtails and magpies, and galahs and kookaburras. I especially miss early mornings standing in the backyard with the sun coming up, the sky burning orange and catching the magpies first song. There is a magic to the Australian bush, it must have something to do with a primal sense of belonging to the land, or of coming from it, or perhaps just the instense respect you have to have for something that feels so omni-present.
(For a really great conversation about Australian birds, with biologist Tim Low, see Conversations with Richard Fidler an absolutely brilliant podcast and one of my absolute all-time favourites).