The other day I was walking along the shoreline near Laverton Creek.
I saw a man heading into a restricted area where birds were nesting. He kept looking over his shoulder, like someone might stop him or call him out.
When I got closer to the gate, I saw a sign about fox control.
It made sense.
These days, anyone involved in culling is seen as a murderer.
Foxes are non native here. Brought in years ago so people could hunt them for sport.
Then people got bored.
The foxes didn’t.
They’re furtive and smart, and they have no natural predators. And as cute as they might look, they’ll take anything in their range. Eggs. Chicks. Whatever’s there.
But this isn’t just about the foxes.
It is about protecting a specific bird.
The bar-tailed godwit.
I didn’t know much about it at the time.
It apparently holds one of the longest nonstop flights ever recorded. Over 13,000 kilometres. From Alaska down to New Zealand. Sometimes Australia. Eight to ten days, depending on the wind.
Nonstop.
No food, no water, no rest.
There’s no real comparison for that. If you try, it’s like running from Melbourne to London in about a week without stopping.
Even David Goggins starts to look human next to it.
And the bird itself is small. You could hold it across both your hands, its beak and legs hanging over your fingers. About the weight of a steak you’d order at a pub.
Still, it does that.
Every year.
Some don’t make it.
I stood there for a bit thinking about it.
At first, it’s easy to go straight to endurance. Pushing further. Holding on longer. Just keep going.
But that’s what it’s built for.
We’re not.
And somewhere along the way, I came across what happens before the flight.
The godwit strips itself down. Shrinks organs. Drops weight. Carries only what it needs. Nothing extra.
That’s the part I keep coming back to.
Not the distance.
What it leaves behind.
I keep thinking about that.
We carry a lot of shit we don’t need. Most of it isn’t even ours.
Maybe that’s it…
Not how far we can push.
Just how much we’re willing to let go of.
Maybe then we go a little further than we think we can.