Microcosmic

  I watched a pewit laying claim to the field by the slant and tilt of its display flight. The far end, the two sides, the part nearest to me—stitching the airspace together as it looped the lapwing loop. On paddle-wings it rowed, quartered the ground, almost touching the tussock tips. Then up, straight up, as if yanked on strings, as if it were its own puppeteer. As it descended again, each tumbled zig, each hairpin zag, was accompanied by sound. 'Kreee-ow-wee! Krrrrrr-click-ick-ick!' Squeaky swing, rolling rattle, bubbles of laughing cuckoo clock. All finished off with a deep, throbbing 'Vwooo-vwooo-vwooo' ...from its wings—singing with feathers, slipping through cracks in the sky. I've seen this many times. But have I actually - seen - it? This performance - joyful, yet full of unnecessary extravagance - so it seems. I think my younger self would have seen this and made a mental note: 'lapwing display flight'. Audited it into matter of factness —'th...