Curiously designed & catching up on lost time.
THEIR STORY
James joins Bird Tales with a perspective that didn’t begin in the natural world, but found its way there. James is the co-founder of LYFER.
His background sits firmly in the built environment and business, spanning TV production, marketing, interior architecture, and lighting design. Nature was always present in his thinking, influencing how he saw form, space, and detail, but birds themselves were never the focus.
As a kid, birds were simply pets. He grew up with birds, including two lovebirds he genuinely loved. It was only years later, looking back, that those moments took on a different meaning, especially the memory of their wings being clipped so they could live indoors.
Everything shifted with a single moment. A Currawong landed on their city balcony. What followed was less an observation and more a confrontation. In the middle of an urban setting, he found himself questioning not just the bird’s presence, but his own understanding of it.
That moment marked a turning point and a change of life forever. Now, his world is centred around birds. He’s catching up on lost time, driven by curiosity, learning as he goes, and finding both joy and a sense of calm in their presence. Birds have reshaped how he sees the everyday, and continue to do so.
What is one bird encounter you will never forget?
Phu Quoc, Vietnam. A day that wasn’t meant to be about birds.
We’d hired scooters, weaving through the humidity, trying to stay focused on the road, though our eyes kept drifting to the skies and treetops. Then something cut across above us. Not ideal when you’re doing 60km/h in flip flops and bare skin.
At first it was just a blur, but instinct kicked in. We slammed the brakes. Scooters skidded to a stop on the side of a busy motorway. We jumped off and ran, no hesitation, straight up the roadside, hoping we’d seen what we thought we had.
It had landed, so high in a tree but, thre it was.... we squinted and prayed it wouldnt move so our eyes could adjust.
No binoculars, rookie move, this was meant to be a casual ride. There it was, our friend, the Great Hornbill.
We just stood there, half in disbelief, half celebrating. It was one of those moments that hits deeper than expected. A reminder that sometimes the best bird encounters are the ones you never planned for.
You’ve got a golden ticket to go anywhere in the world to see a bird? Where would you go and why?
It’d have to be Iceland.
There’s something about that place that’s always pulled me in. Bands like Sigur Rós who habe had a big impact on my life, capture the landscape and culture in a way that’s hard to explain, and birds have often been part of that visual world.
With birds now such a big part of my life, seeing them in that kind of environment feels like it would be something deeper. Vast, raw landscapes, dramatic coastlines, and birdlife woven through it all. I have no doubt it would be a spiritual moment for me too.
Puffins are high on the list, especially during their breeding season from May to August when they gather along the cliffs. Arctic Terns arriving after their incredible migration, Gyrfalcons moving through those open spaces, seabird colonies lining the coast.
It’s one of those places where everything comes together. Landscape, movement, sound, silence and birds.
How is birding part of your life today?
Birding is part of my life in a way that’s hard to fully explain.
It’s not something I switch on and off, it’s just there, it is part of my everything. It’s changed how I move through the world. Its made me slower, more aware, and more present.
Birds have taught me to stop, to breathe, to actually notice what’s around me. Simple things to many , but for me, not always easy.
What I didn’t expect was the emotional side of it. The joy of birding. The way even the most familiar birds can shift my mood without me realising. It brings out the child in me too.
The city Pigeon, getting on with his morning, just like the city commuters are, trying to find their way.in a big, unforgiving city. To the House Sparrows working their way through the crumbs left from us humans on the go. And the Silver Gulls staying up late, earning themselves the odd chip or two. Its all strange but something special too.
They’re no longer background. They’re part of my everyday. I can’t unsee them now, and I wouldn’t want to. They’ve completely reshaped how I see things, and honestly, I’d feel a bit lost without them.

