Here are three families of lyrebird cornered in remnants of tropical forest near our homes, you wouldn’t know them as they mostly hide under a priestly black garment and, when they sing, it’s not their own lyrics but those of others: chatter of lorikeets lament of chain-saws even screams and laughter. Here is a lyrebird whose specialty is to bark when I call out for my dog to please come back. Lyrebirds own no one language. They borrow from whomever is closest to their very fine ear.   Myself? Owned by two, or is it three, tongues and an infinity…

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