The audio recording of the lyrebird was recorded on my mobile phone. The artwork is from a friend.
The evocative lilt of the lyrebird rippled its way across the valley. His song mimicked the sounds he had known since hatching. There were the sounds of the raven, the call of the currawong, the screech of the parrot. Some were even heard to mimic the bark of a dog or the music of the flute.
Across the valley, the female gave scant attention as she tended to her brood. She had no need for her mate. His work was done. She alone would care for her egg. If nothing untoward happened, her egg would hatch after seven weeks. Perhaps it too would sing.
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