The joy of counting birds

And a few changes going forward.

It’s the last newsletter of 2023! Which in itself marks an entire year of sending out this probably a bit weird fortnightly missive.

If you’ve been here from the start, thank you. If you’ve joined the ride along the way, also thank you.

When I initially launched What’s Cooking, I decided to give myself a year of what has basically been writing for free. This was intended as a place to experiment, explore a myriad of topics that I guess I find interesting (and hoped other people would, too) and not worry too much about SEO or AI – a welcome distraction indeed.

Having published once a fortnight, every fortnight now for twelve months, I suppose a little reflection is in order – largely on how to keep this space ever-evolving, sustainable and above all, enjoyable. For you to read, but also for me to create in.

I believe writers should be paid for their work. The internet has certainly brought both an interesting and upsetting dynamic to this – while it has provided a platform for more voices to be heard, it has eroded the value we put on this type of work. And as fun as writing can be, it is darn hard work.

As much joy as I get out of putting this newsletter together once a fortnight, a gal’s gotta eat and pay her rent. When the time spent on this is quantifiable, there’s not much else one can do.

So, as a good little millennial living in this period of turbulence known as late-stage capitalism, I’ve decided to monetise yet another one of my hobbies. I’ve turned on the option for paid subscriptions here on Substack.

The reasoning is (if you’re at all interested):

1. Everything I’ve stated above.

2. As with all overly-crowded online platforms, it’s hard to get eyeballs on one’s work here these days. I don’t believe Substack is really in the interest of surfacing free newsletters, which I guess is fair enough in its way – what’s in it for them? Turning on paid puts a value on this work and perhaps the opportunity to get it under the noses of more people. And all writers desperately want their work be to read and liked, and if they claim otherwise, sorry but they’re lying.

So what can you expect going forward?

One thing that doesn’t seem fair, is when people subscribe to a format like a newsletter without the promise of regular content – especially in this time of rising cozzie livs, gosh don’t we get all the fun. That’s a bugbear and ain’t gonna happen here. For now, I’ll continue to send out at least two missives a month. I hope this newsletter can expand over time, but also reckon it’s best to start small, favouring quality over quantity.

The content each couple of weeks will alternate – at the beginning of the month free subscribers will receive a post much like what you’re about to read. This format seems to work, although it may be subject to some future tweaks here and there.

There will also be a monthly bumper edition of ‘What’s Cooking with Celine’.

These editions of the newsletter will take on a magazine-type form, containing all sorts of bits and bobs. Travel guides or itineraries, recipes and general food writing, kitchen hacks, gardening and permaculture tips, and book recommendations/reviews. I’ve basically just looked at what past editions have rated well and plan to build this based around that.

These editions will be for paid subscribers only. I will however, send the first one out with open access to all subscribers for 48 hours, because it seems like an exciting thing to do and will give you a little taste of what’s to come.

If you fancy becoming a paid subscriber ahead of the bumper edition launch, this will certainly warm the lump of coal that sits where my heart once resided (having hardened after a decade of trying to “make it” as a writer online). It costs $6 a month – the price of my favourite bánh mì in Melbourne in 2018. They are now $9 a pop. Inflation, yikes. You will save a dollar a month with an annual subscription of $60.

These prices may change in the future, depending on how much work I’ve set up for myself lol, so get in now while it’s cheap.

Thanks to those who have already subscribed. You are all my best friend.

Now, on with the rest of today’s missive.

Little Corellas, very silly birds.

The birds, the birds

Can I share something that’s brought great solace for me over the last twelve months?

It’s a simple thing. I go and count birds and record them as part of a citizen science survey for BirdLife Australia.

I’ve been a longtime part time counter of birds, participating in the charity’s biannual Swift Parrot survey for a few years. ‘Swifties’ as they’re known (not to be confused with fans of T-Swift) are close to extinction, mostly due to destruction of habitat in the form of ongoing commercial logging WHY THIS STILL HAPPENS I DON’T KNOW WE NEED TREES TO SURVIVE EVERYONE. This survey requires people to head to a nominated location twice a year, to count any Swifties they happen across, discounting those wearing jumpers with adorned with pictures of cats and muttering the lyrics to All Too Well under their breath. Sadly, I’ve never seen any in the wild (the birds, I’ve seen plenty of Swifties in the wild, I’m gonna stop with this joke now, don’t worry) but a heap of other interesting birds usually fly on by.

This year looked a little different. Instead of going out twice a year, I was offered a vounteer role, counting all the birds I saw in a 20 minute span, in two locations in Melbourne. Once a month.

It sounds like an easy thing to do, but fitting this in to an already packed schedule can be challenging. It’s often not ‘til the last weekend, or even the last day of the month that I rush out, in a flurry of gumboots, green clothing and binoculars, to see the birds.

Heading out to say hola to some feathered friends.

Once there, I generally have the time of my life. These areas I count in are mostly wetlands, hidden within metro Melbourne. Who calls it home? Why dusky moorhen, purple swamphen, eurasian coot, all kinds of ducks, cormorants and the Australian white ibis aka ‘bin chicken’, which cops slack, but is a bird I have the utmost respect for (it survives and thrives, despite the destruction of its habitat).

There are welcome swallows, rainbow lorikeets, tiny New Holland honeyeaters and even tinier superb fairy-wren. Ocassionally I’ll spot heron, which makes me feel very excited indeed.

A Willie Wagtail lives right near my sit spot in one of the areas I count in. It always swoops past, waggling its bum from tree limb to tree limb, as if to say hello.

Hard to get a still shot of this fast-moving, twirly little bird.

Sometimes, I’ll see a feathered friend I can’t identify, flying lazily overhead as I frantically flip through my bird guide. A reminder that we don’t know everything, that there’s so much more to learn in our world. And identifying birds by call alone? Well. Slowly, slowly.

And it’s not just the birds that bring a sense of joy in these moments. It’s the dragonflies. The frogs. The plantlife. And the area itself, which feels like an oasis, surrounded by the weird concrete, brick and metal structures that we encase ourselves in, that we call home.

No matter how I’m feeling, a smile plays on my lips and my heart feels lighter after I’ve spent time with the birds.

So, if you’re having a rotten day, perhaps take a moment outside to stop. Close your eyes. Listen to the life around you. The birds. The insects. The sounds of the season. Whatever. Perhaps your heart too, will feel a little lighter as a consequence.

A quick hack

Keen to repurpose glass jars but wondering how best to get rid of those pesky labels?

Here’s a quick and easy way to remove this adhesive, using only two ingredients (well, three I suppose, if you count water):

1. Fill the kitchen sink with hot, soapy water. Add the jars and soak for around an hour.

2. Take out of sink and remove as much of each label as possible.

3. Let dry.

4. Mix together 1 part coconut oil to 1 part bicarb soda (baking soda if you’re Stateside). You might need to melt down the oil a bit.

5. Apply to remaining adhesive on jars.

6. Let set for another hour.

7. Using a dish brush or say, an old toothbrush, scrub at the adhesive, goop on. It should come off quite easily. If not, just add a bit more of mixture and leave a little longer.

8. Wash jars with hot water. Let dry and sterilise before adding any food.

Lorelai declaring she is going to ‘do Wild’ in ‘Gilmore Girls: A Year in the Life’. Can’t think of any other fictional character less up to this.

Some recommendations

• Read: If you’re after EVEN MORE SUGGESTIONS after last fortnight’s blockbuster reading recommendations list then… sure. The year ain’t quite over yet, I’ve got at least one more for you! Trail of the Lost tells the tale of hikers gone missing on the USA’s Pacific Crest Trail (yup, the very same one made famous by Cheryl Strayed in Wild), written by expert adventurer and ex-park ranger Andrea Lankford. While Lankford recounts a few tales of souls lost or harmed on the trail, her text focuses primarily on three men – Kris ‘Sherpa’ Fowler, Chris Sylvia and David O'Sullivan – who disappeared without a trace while hiking the PCT, within a couple of years of each other. Strayed’s wildly popular memoir has encouraged many to tackle the PCT without the experience and in some cases, even the gear needed to complete such a perilous journey. This book not only examines this kind of folly and these three cold cases; it offers a fascinating insight into hiker culture, and a complete respect and appreciation for the natural world. Trail of the Lost is not available commercially in Australia yet, but you can ‘read’ it via audiobook format from the usual suspects.

• Listen: Are you a playlist person, or someone who likes to listen to an album from start to finish? As the latter, I do miss the days of popping a CD on in the car and listening to it from tip to toe (my car is old enough to have a CD player, and old enough still for that CD player to be very much broken). I’ve had a marvellous time of late rediscovering albums from the last 15 years or so that I used to love, and bopping along to them while cleaning the house, or doing the cooking. May I put forth Washington’s I Believe You Liar, Husky’s Forever So and Josh Pyke’s Memories & Dust for consideration? All three also sound perfectly ‘summery’. And for something a little more contemporary, Chappell Roan’s The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess is definitely serving up the right vibes.

• Watch: I just love a good Aussie psychological thriller and I got exactly what I desire in recent release, The Royal Hotel. Two American backpackers, rapidly running out of money, take the only job available to them at short notice – bartending an Outback pub, frequented by male FIFO (fly-in-fly-out) workers and not much else. It’s an excellent examination of the toxic masculinity that can run rampant in these settings, with some chilling edge-of-your-seat moments.

• Eat: ‘Tis the season to be eating! I’ve shared this previously, but why not again. This is my favourite recipe for eggnog; it somehow works, no matter which hemisphere you’re drinking it in. I’ve made it in both the UK and Australia substituting the bourbon for whisky, which warms up the belly, while the cold cream works on a hot summer’s day. It also makes an excellent gift, encased in some recently cleaned and sterilised jars.

Well, that’s it for the year! I hope this weird and sometimes wonky year of 2023 was at least a bit good for you, even if in parts, and may 2024 be even better. Enjoy the holiday season, whatever you get up to.

I’ll be taking a little break the first week of January and so, will be back in your inbox on the 11th - with the bumper edition launching two weeks later on the 25th. I’m pretty excited to share the year’s first newsletter with you, as it contains an experiment a long time in the making (okay, like a month, but that’s a long time in the scheme of things).

Exciting times ahead.

‘Til then, stay well and well-fed.

-Celine

And remember, likes and comments are loved (by both moi and dreaded internet algorithms).