Looking at Home Through Different Eyes: Rediscovering Belfast's Wildlife Through Curlews, Robins and a Hummingbird Hawk Moth
Share
Location: Belfast, Northern Ireland | County Down Coastline | Northern Ireland Wildlife
When I booked my flights back to Belfast, I was looking forward to seeing my family.
What I didn't expect was to fall in love with Belfast's wildlife all over again.
Living in New Zealand has changed the way I walk through the world. Birds I might once have passed without a second glance have become familiar neighbours. So when I came back to Belfast, I found myself noticing everything. Not because the wildlife had changed, but because I had.
Coming Home with New Eyes
Whether I'm walking through the Belfast Hills, along the County Down coastline or simply wandering around my parents' garden, I'm always hoping to stumble across something unexpected.
It's funny how moving to New Zealand has changed the way I see home. Years ago I probably wouldn't even have noticed half these things. Now I'm constantly stopping, listening and looking.
I've become that person who wanders around with a camera around my neck, hoping something catches my eye.
This week, it has happened more times than I can count.
Hearing a Curlew Again
The first thing that stopped me in my tracks was the unmistakable call of a Eurasian curlew, one of Northern Ireland's most distinctive coastal birds. If you've ever heard one along the Northern Ireland coastline, you'll know exactly what I mean. Wild, haunting and impossible to confuse with anything else.
I didn't even know about curlews when I lived in Belfast. I first discovered them on a visit back a few years ago, when I spotted one down by the shore and had to look it up to find out what on earth it was.
Since then, I've never quite forgotten them.
Their call is one of those sounds that stays with you. I stood there listening, wondering how something so memorable had passed me by for so many years.

Looking at European Robins Differently
Then there were the European robins.
The European robin is one of the UK's most recognisable garden birds, but after living in New Zealand for the past few years, I found myself seeing it completely differently. I've been thinking about painting a South Island robin for a while, so it felt especially meaningful to spend time photographing the robins I'd always known here.
Same name. Completely different bird.
The red breast, the round little body, the way it watches from a branch as if it's keeping tabs on the whole garden. It all felt familiar and new at the same time.

My First Hummingbird Hawk Moth
And then came the biggest surprise of the week.
I was walking down a main road, quietly complaining to myself about the traffic noise, when something stopped me in my tracks.
A hummingbird hawk moth.
A hummingbird hawk moth is one of those creatures you almost can't believe exists until you see one. Despite its name, it's actually a day-flying moth that hovers like a hummingbird while feeding from flowers, using a remarkably long tongue to reach the nectar. It moves so quickly and so purposefully that the first time you see one, it's easy to mistake it for a tiny bird.
Not in some perfect wildflower meadow. Not in a peaceful nature reserve. Among the weeds, beside a busy road, hovering from flower to flower like a tiny little miracle with wings.
I'd never seen one before in Northern Ireland.
For a few seconds I forgot all about the traffic. It disappeared just as quickly as it had arrived. I may have got slightly overexcited, although I suspect most of you would have done exactly the same.
https://www.instagram.com/p/DaOVRR7gVDk/
I've also managed to visit the art shop I always go to when I'm home, mostly because they stock my favourite Unison pastels. I probably didn't need a full new set but I bought them anyway.

Why Wildlife Changes the Way We See Home
The lovely thing about this trip is that it's reminded me why I paint in the first place.
It's not really about birds.
It's about noticing.
It's about those moments that make you stop walking, lower your camera for a second, and simply enjoy where you are.
Whether that's hearing a curlew calling across the Northern Ireland shoreline, watching a European robin from a garden in Belfast, or finding a hummingbird hawk moth among the weeds on a busy road.
I wrote something similar after photographing kotare at Allandale Reserve in Canterbury earlier this winter. Ten kingfishers working the mudflats as the tide came in. The same feeling, a different hemisphere.
I'm already thinking about the paintings these moments might become. One of them I'd already started before I left, a fox that's been in my head since my London years.
For now though, I'm just enjoying being outside, taking it all in, and seeing Belfast with fresh eyes.
I have a feeling there are still plenty more discoveries waiting before I fly back to New Zealand.
One of the unexpected joys of coming home has been rediscovering wildlife I'd once taken for granted. Living in New Zealand has taught me to slow down and notice the birds and insects around me, and it's changed the way I see Belfast too.
Wildlife I spotted this week in Belfast
| Eurasian Curlew | Coastal shoreline near Belfast | ✓ |
| European Robin | Garden | ✓ |
| Hummingbird Hawk Moth | Roadside wildflowers, Belfast | ✓ |
I'm already wondering what I'll discover next before it's time to head back to New Zealand.
A few things people have asked me
Where can you see curlews around Belfast?
Curlews are often found along the Northern Ireland coastline, particularly around estuaries, mudflats and salt marshes. I heard this one while walking by the shore, and its haunting call carried much further than I expected. Belfast Lough and the County Down coast are both good places to look, especially in winter when they gather on the mudflats.
What is a hummingbird hawk moth?
Despite the name, it isn't a hummingbird at all. It's a day-flying moth that hovers in front of flowers while feeding with its long tongue. It moves so quickly that it's easy to mistake it for a tiny bird the first time you see one. I'd never encountered one in Northern Ireland before, and it completely stopped me in my tracks.
Why do you photograph wildlife before painting it?
Photography helps me remember the details, but it's never the whole story. The photographs capture the feathers, colours and light. The painting comes from remembering how it felt to stand there and experience the moment. This trip has given me both, which is a very good reason to keep coming home.
A European robin, painted from life and memory. Soft pastel on board. One available.
For that flash of blue that disappears before you can quite believe you saw it. A fine art print on cotton rag, ready to bring that feeling home.