Morepork with fern

Under the fern, out of the light

The daytime roost

During the day, the forest belongs to other birds. Fantails dart, bellbirds sing, tūī argue in the treetops. And somewhere in the dimmest, quietest corner, under the arch of a big fern, a small owl is trying very hard to get some sleep.

It sits on a short branch, tucked well back in the shadows, feathers fluffed, eyes nearly closed. The fern leans over it like a green umbrella. A few strands of grass and moss hang down from its perch. The world goes on outside its little shelter.

Then a footstep. A crack of a twig. The eyes snap open, wide and golden and decidedly unimpressed, fixing on you with an expression that clearly says: I was resting.

You step quietly back. The owl watches you go. And after a while, the eyes slowly close again.

The artwork

The owl sits upright on a short, knotted branch, its body plump and rounded and its face turned straight toward us. The eyes are large and intense, with heavy brows that give it a stern, slightly disgruntled expression. The facial disc is softly shaded, and the speckled crown and feathered body are rendered in fine, careful texture.

Behind the owl on the left, a delicate fern frond rises and arches, its leaflets drawn with fine precision. Wispy strands of grass or moss trail from the branch below. The rest of the coaster is left open, so the focus stays on that unforgettable gaze.

On warm wood with rounded corners, the soft tonal shading gives the whole piece a gentle, sepia-photograph quality, like an old field sketch.