Prairie Dog

by Tricia Orr In your red clay chamber, you lift your velvet pincushion of an ear – what do you hear? Biologists have recorded you. If I wear blue your alarm ca...

Spinal Tap

by Kathy Miles He’s a motley, a bag of pick-and-mix. Black and white bullseyes, caramel, a splash of raspberry ruffle under his tail. He’s drumming ...

Golden Eagle

by Garry MacKenzie Ravens have him out of his depth, daring collisions until he’s forced to break his soar. They tumble him round the cliffs and out of sight: I...

Shallow Names

by David Lukas When we look out at the natural world around us it might feel like everything is known, or at the very least that everything is named. And while ...

Dung Beetle

by Ann Drysdale Here he comes, dribbling singlemindedly, concentrating, keeping control of the ball. And there he goes down the wing, the wing actual, the wing ...

Day Nineteen

by Gina Bright Day One All six eyes fixed on him after he turned on the lights. They trusted him in spite of his masked face. “Good morning, little cancer fight...

Choughed

by Mark Totterdell Thrift and soft grasses have made me a mattress beneath the high overhang’s dark rocky buttress. Two choughs are feeding, each crimson bill p...