Lyrebirds

I hear them most days, in the hills around our house. First you think it's just a kookaburra, but it isn't. Then a magpie, no. Next a black cockatoo. But none of these. What I'm hearing is the lyrebird — nature's greatest mimic.

Despite having its own song, it tends to mimic what it's hearing around it, whether it's a bird, the sound of a chainsaw or a squeaky door.

In organisations, the lyrebird is everywhere.

It's the executive who arrives with a view and leaves holding the room's. It's the leader who says what the room wants to hear — and does it in every room.

When an organisation runs on mimicry, the true voice fades. Not by force but by habit. The original song is too risky, too messy, too honest.

The forest fills with echoes. The original song disappears.

The lyrebird doesn't mind. It has no other option.