Between Reeds and Sky brings together lead artists Jane Furnell, Jane Comas, Heather Gordon and contributing artists, Neil Trenberth, Diane Trenberth and Annette McDonald in a collaborative installation at the Barossa Bushgardens.
Working with repurposed textiles, the artists weave directly into the existing fence line, creating an ephemeral artwork that responds to place, season, and the presence of water birds. Strips of cloth become reeds, feathers, and shifting waterlines, moving gently with wind and light.
The installation invites visitors to pause and notice the birdlife that gathers in and around the Bushgardens. It is both a celebration and a quiet act of care, using reclaimed materials to reflect on habitat, cycles, and the delicate balance between land, water, and sky.
Over the time of the SALA exhibition, the work will change through weather and light, echoing the seasonal nature of the birds themselves and the habitats they depend on.
The Australian white ibis has become trapped by derisive nicknames (bin chicken/ tip turkeys/ sandwich snatchers/ picnic pirates) that tells only one part of its story. In South Australia, especially in wetlands like the Barossa Bushgardens, it is first and foremost a wetland bird.
The Australian white ibis (Threskiornis molucca) evolved as a nomadic wetland bird. For thousands of years it followed Australia's floods, moving wherever temporary wetlands appeared. It is perfectly adapted to an unpredictable continent.
Rather than defending one territory, ibis travel. They read the landscape.
The nickname came because many eastern Australian wetlands have been drained or developed. As natural feeding areas disappeared, ibis learned that parks, rubbish bins and picnic grounds offered another reliable food source. Ibis are thriving on the endless waste our towns and cities provide.
People often think the bird changed.
In many way
The nickname came because many eastern Australian wetlands have been drained or developed. As natural feeding areas disappeared, ibis learned that parks, rubbish bins and picnic grounds offered another reliable food source. Ibis are thriving on the endless waste our towns and cities provide.
People often think the bird changed.
In many ways, it was the habitat that changed first.
South Australia still offers important wetlands where ibis behave much as they always have.
Urban ibis populations face threats from pollution and entanglement in litter. In rural areas, major threats include wetland degradation, drought and reduced water flows due to irrigation. Their reputation as a nuisance in cities has also led to culling in some regions.
White ibis build colonies of stick nests over water, often in trees or reed beds where predators struggle to reach them.
Both parents:
build the nest
incubate the eggs
feed the chicks
defend the colony.
A colony can contain hundreds of nests, each family raising its own young while benefiting from the safety of the larger community.
Unlike birds that hunt by sight, ibis walk slowly through mud with their long, curved bill.
The sensitive tip detects worms, yabbies, insects, frogs, freshwater mussels and other small animals hidden beneath the surface.
They literally feel their way through the landscape.
Standing on the ground, the white ibis can seem awkward.
In flight it becomes completely different.
Its neck stretches straight ahead.
Its legs trail behind.
Black wing tips frame brilliant white feathers.
It moves with surprising grace.

The four purple swamp hens (Porphyrio porphyrio) almost become the opposite characters.
They don't soar across the landscape like ibis.
They belong to the reeds.
They climb.
They pull reeds apart.
They use those enormous feet almost like hands.
They often feed together as family groups.
Where Iris the Ibis moves between wetlands, the swamp hens belong to one place.

The two frogs boldly complete the story.
Healthy frogs mean:
clean water
insects
shelter
functioning wetlands.
Visitors may notice the birds first.
The frogs suggest everything happening underneath. They are depicted many times the size of actual frogs.
Photo from Wildlife Watching via SoundCloud.com

The reeds are the heart of the installation.
People notice birds because they move. They notice frogs because they call. They rarely notice the reeds, yet without the reeds there would be very few wetland birds at all.
Rather than thinking of reeds as "plants", think of them as wetland architecture.
They are homes.
They are nurseries.
They are windbreaks.
They are food.
They are shelter.
They hold the wetland together.
Photo from Natarsha McPherson, Adelaide Park Lands Association
To us, a reed bed can look like one mass of green stems.
To the creatures living there, it is a city.
Some birds nest deep inside.
Others perch on the stems.
Frogs cling to the leaves.
Dragonflies emerge from the water.
Spiders stretch webs between stalks.
Tiny fish shelter below.
Insects lay eggs on the stems.
Every layer is occupied.
Wetland reeds are remarkable filters.
As water moves slowly through a reed bed, the plants:
trap sediment
slow erosion
absorb excess nutrients
provide surfaces where microorganisms break down pollutants
stabilise the banks with extensive root systems.
A healthy reed bed helps create healthier water.
A healthy wetland rarely contains just one kind of reed.
Instead there may be many different types. ( Ask about this at the Barossa Bushgardens.)
Each grows at slightly different water depths.
Each provides different nesting opportunities.
Each supports different insects.
That diversity creates resilience.
Reeds slow everything down.
Wind.
Water.
Light.
Sound.
Instead of rushing, water spreads gently through the stems.
That slower movement creates life.
The ibis walks the margins.
The ibis probes among the reeds for insects, worms, frogs and crustaceans.
Without healthy reed beds there is far less to eat.
The reeds are not simply beside them.
They are home.
Purple swamp hens weave nests from reed leaves, hide chicks among dense vegetation, and feed on the tender shoots, roots and seeds of wetland plants. Their oversized feet allow them to walk across floating vegetation and grasp stems while feeding.
The reeds are everything.
Calling platforms.
Shade.
Humidity.
Protection from birds.
Places to lay eggs nearby.
Without vegetation, many frogs simply cannot survive.
Repurposed textiles are woven into the fence. A reed bed is nature doing exactly the same thing. Each stem alone bends in the wind, but together many stems become a living fabric that shelters countless species. Our art installation doesn't merely depict a reed bed. It echoes how a reed bed functions: many individual strands creating one resilient community.