Bigfoot
by Richard LeBlond The day had been scheduled for cold air out of Canada, a lousy way to start up June. But by the time we had gathered at the parking lot near ...
Category: Issue 8
Birdsong After the Storm
by Margi Prideaux We are standing on the back porch. Dawn light where we live is always beautiful. Most mornings the paddocks reflect a golden tone that undulat...
Rabbit in the Garden
by Karen Terrey When I opened my hand I didn’t feel anything which isn’t to say nothing was there. A rabbit reaps my garden – at least, I planted it – nip...
After the Bear
by Matt Stansberry We are always hunting something of our father’s, and he’s hunting too, and we’re sure we’ll know more of ourselves if...
The Snakecatcher
by Karen Jane Cannon In Sussex fields we saw the wooden sign — red letters warning us of adders hid under tall nettles, long cow parsley, but we never saw a tel...
A Flash of Orange
by Dawn Wyndham Her gentle elongated face was etched with tiredness. Delayed by giving birth two days ago, she was the last to flee. Amid the flames and smoke b...
Highland Bestiary
by Joan Lennon In the fog, sheep strike _____poses, misty round the edges, __________strangely heroic. Sleeping otter dreams _____of water. If streams could dre...
A Sweet Wild Note: What We Hear When Birds Sing – an extract
by Richard Smyth To the best of my knowledge, I’ve never heard a buck fart. But I have heard a cuckoo sing, if you can call it a song, so I have a rough i...
Anthropocene Incantation: Mingled Singing Bird-Man-Machine Echoes
by Julianne Lutz Warren First Listen to the “Human Imitation of Huia1” Listen! Huia! Huia! Huia! Huia! cry the birds in their tongue in Māori a call to assemble...