Forced to confront my own mortality, the currawong’s carolling became a song of hope | Anna Sublet

These beady-eyed, bulletproof birds are an adaptive species - and their lift and lilt is like a flight path that takes me safely home

• The Australian bird of the year poll launches on 25 September 2023
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One year I built myself a little nest in a green tent, surrounded by moonahs and gumtrees. Inside, I had an old embroidered tablecloth, its coloured threads stitched in swirls. I had crocheted rugs, a bean bag, a small seat and a floor covering.

From the tent I felt and heard the beauty in many small things: the way the light came through the fabric walls; the birds, so close to me, feeding in the wet soil; the magpies singing all morning from high up in the dry branches of the gumtree; tiny wrens of yellow and grey, a mass of them flitting in the tea tree; wattlebirds clacking; and the lift and lilt of the currawongs carolling.