The Round about miracle

This morning, as the traffic quietly circles one of Darwin’s familiar roundabouts, there is a small but remarkable drama unfolding. Mum and Dad curlew stand nearby—alert, proud, and perhaps just a little nervous—as the fruit of their labour over the past four weeks darts about on long, delicate legs. Their chicks, once hidden and vulnerable, are now on the move.

It’s a scene that stops you, if you take the time to notice it.

There is something deeply compelling about watching these birds. The curlews have chosen a place that seems, at first glance, entirely unfitting—a patch of ground surrounded by constant motion, noise, and danger. And yet, here they are, raising new life. For weeks they have guarded their nest, blending into their surroundings, standing watch through the night, calling sharply at any who come too close. Now their work is visible in the most tangible way: new life, running, exploring, learning.

Pride is written all over them—but so is concern. Every passing car, every curious pedestrian, every unexpected movement is a reminder that this tiny family is still fragile. The parents hover, guide, and protect, doing everything within their power to shepherd their chicks into maturity.

Watching them, it is hard not to be drawn to the words of Psalm 104:

How many are your works, Lord!
In wisdom you made them all;
the earth is full of your creatures.

All creatures look to you
to give them their food at the proper time.
When you give it to them,
they gather it up;
when you open your hand,