Artist Illustrates Existential Problems Through His Witty Wildlife Comics (45 New Pics)

If you’ve ever stared out a window, watched a bird on a branch, and thought, “Wow, that pigeon probably has its life together more than I do,” then these witty wildlife comics are basically your spirit animals. Featured on Bored Panda, the series of 45 new illustrations by Canadian artist Joshua Barkman, the creator of the “False Knees” webcomic, turns birds, critters, and nature scenes into tiny, beautifully awkward essays about being alive.

Instead of superheroes in capes, Barkman gives us nervous sparrows, overcaffeinated crows, and contemplative songbirds who worry about the future, overthink every interaction, and occasionally decide to migrate emotionally instead of physically. It’s the existential crisis of modern lifejust with more feathers and better plumage.

In this article, we’ll dive into what makes these witty wildlife comics so special, why they resonate so deeply with people dealing with stress and anxiety, and how dark, slightly absurd humor can actually help us cope. Along the way, we’ll connect these comics with psychological research, other existential-animal creators, and real-life experiences of finding comfort in talking birds who are just as confused as we are.

Meet the Mind Behind the Existential Birds

Joshua Barkman and the Rise of “False Knees”

The star of this Bored Panda feature is Joshua Barkman, the Canadian cartoonist who created the webcomic “False Knees.” What started as a small project has grown into a widely recognized series with hundreds of thousands of followers on social media. Fans love his mix of soft watercolor art and unexpectedly sharp dialogue about anxiety, meaning, and the absurdity of everyday life.

Many of the comics feature birds perched on branches, wandering through forests, or staring off into abstract skies while having conversations that could have been lifted straight from a late-night group chat:

• A bird wonders whether it’s making the most of its short lifespan.
• Another spirals into overthinking after a perfectly normal interaction.
• Someone (usually a bird) considers just flying away from all responsibilitiesgeographically or emotionally.

The magic is that these are absolutely animals, but they’re also absolutely us. One moment they’re pecking berries; the next, they’re questioning the point of productivity culture.

Why Animals Make Perfect Existential Philosophers

Using animals as stand-ins for human worries is a long tradition in comics and cartoons. From classic newspaper strips to modern webcomics, animals can say blunt, uncomfortable truths that feel less harsh when they come from a sparrow instead of your manager.

Other creators lean into this same idea. Existential animal comics like “Chats With The Void” use foxes, cats, and other creatures to talk about burnout, world-ending dread, and the feeling that everything is on fire, yet we still have to answer emails. This distancewatching animals struggle instead of seeing yet another stressed-out humangives us just enough emotional space to laugh at what would otherwise be overwhelming.

Existential Problems, But Make Them Feathered and Funny

The humor in these wildlife comics usually comes from contrast: peaceful natural scenes filled with birds, leaves, and water… paired with thoughts that sound like your brain at 2 a.m.

Recurring Themes in the Comics

While every strip is unique, several themes show up again and again:

• Overthinking everything. A bird might wonder whether it offended someone. Another rehearses conversations long after they’re over.
• Fear of the future. A flock talks about migration like we talk about career moveswhat if we go the wrong way? What if everyone else has it figured out?
• Climate and environmental anxiety. Sometimes the sky’s gorgeous; other times, storms and pollution creep in, mirroring how many people quietly worry about the planet’s future.
• Loneliness and connection. Birds perch alone, then in pairs, then in flocksperfect visual metaphors for needing others and not always knowing how to reach out.

The punchlines tend to be short and dry. A character might say something like, “I think I’m fine,” while the panel clearly shows they are absolutely not fine. It’s funny because it’s painfully accurate.

Soft Colors, Hard Truths

Visually, the comics are gentle. Barkman often uses muted greens, blues, and soft grays that feel like early morning in a quiet forest. The line work is delicate, the birds are expressive but still birdlike, and the natural backgrounds are calmeven when the dialogue is having a full-blown existential meltdown.

That contrast between cozy aesthetics and emotionally heavy topics is part of why readers keep coming back. Your brain goes, “Aww, cute bird!” and then, two panels later, “Oh. That’s my entire emotional life in one sentence.”

Why Dark, Witty Wildlife Comics Hit So Deep

It’s tempting to say we love these comics simply because they’re funny. But there’s more going on under the feathers. Psychologists and researchers have found that dark or existential humor can actually be a powerful coping strategy for dealing with stress, complicated emotions, and uncertainty.

Dark Humor as a Coping Mechanism

Studies of dark humor suggest that using morbid or uncomfortable topics in a humorous way can help people mentally “reframe” difficult experiences, giving them a sense of distance and control. Instead of being crushed by a problem, you’re able to laugh at itat least a littleand that shift in perspective can support emotional resilience.

Research on groups that regularly face trauma or high stress, such as healthcare workers and veterans, has found that gallows humor and dark jokes often function as a bonding tool and a survival mechanism rather than simple insensitivity. While most of us aren’t dealing with battlefield scenarios, many people do feel overwhelmed by modern life, climate concerns, financial stress, and social pressure. Comics that say “Yes, it’s all a lotlet’s laugh anyway” can feel like a relief valve.

Comics and Mental Health: A Surprisingly Helpful Combo

Mental health professionals and librarians have pointed out that comics can make complex emotional experiences much easier to understand. Graphic memoirs about anxiety and depression, for example, help readers recognize their own feelings and feel less isolated.

Some counseling resources even use comics to show what it’s like to live with depression or anxiety, emphasizing that support, presence, and validation matter more than pep talks. When we see a tired-looking bird saying, “I can’t just snap out of it,” it mirrors advice from therapists more gently than a textbook ever could.

Put simply: existential wildlife comics give us permission to feel messy, confused, and scared while still finding joy in a small visual joke, a clever line, or a quietly beautiful panel.

Part of a Bigger Trend in Existential Animal Comics

Barkman’s work is part of a wider movement where artists use animals to explore big philosophical questions. You can see similar vibes in other series like “Chats With The Void,” which features animal characters musing about loneliness, burnout, and the end of the world, or in cozy but slightly existential comics by artists like Pleumier, who mixes soft watercolor scenes with gentle, emotionally loaded punchlines.

Across all these works, a pattern emerges:

• The art style is often cute, minimal, or warm.
• The topics include anxiety, purpose, and identity.
• The humor is dry, self-aware, and sometimes painfully accurate.

The combination feels very right for our current momenta time when people are more open about mental health, more aware of global crises, and constantly looking for small, digestible pieces of comfort on their feeds.

How to Really Enjoy These Wildlife Comics (Beyond Just Scrolling)

Sure, you can scroll quickly through all 45 new images, chuckle a few times, and move on. But if you want to squeeze a little more insightand maybe a little more comfortout of them, here are some ways to interact more intentionally.

1. Read the Panels Slowly

It’s tempting to fly through like a hyperactive hummingbird, but these comics reward slow reading. Pause on the background details, body language of the birds, and how the mood shifts from panel to panel. Sometimes the funniest moment is in the quiet facial expression, not the punchline.

2. Notice Which Jokes Hit a Nerve

When a particular strip makes you think, “Oof, that’s me,” it’s worth asking why. Is it the fear of wasting time? The pressure to be productive? The feeling that everyone else is migrating smoothly while you’re stuck on the same branch? That tiny wince of recognition can actually be a useful self-reflection moment.

3. Share Mindfully

Sharing a comic about burnout or loneliness with a friend can send a powerful message: “I see you, and I get it.” Just be mindful of context; sometimes it helps to add a note like “This reminded me of our conversations about work stresslove you, please don’t actually move to another continent like this bird.”

4. Use Them as Creative Inspiration

If you draw, write, or journal, you can use these comics as prompts:

• Rewrite a dialogue with a different animal.
• Sketch your own “inner bird” and what it worries about.
• Turn one of your recurring anxious thoughts into a funny four-panel scene.

Turning your anxieties into arteven simple doodlesis a surprisingly effective way to make them feel less overwhelming.

What These Wildlife Comics Taught Me About Being Human (Experience Section)

The first time I saw one of these wildlife comics, I didn’t laugh right away. I stared at a small bird sitting in the rain, thinking about how everything felt heavy, and my first reaction was, “Who gave this bird access to my brain?” The second reaction was a quiet, unexpected sense of relief.

There’s something disarming about seeing your own swirling worries show up in a creature that weighs less than your phone. When a tiny gray bird admits it’s exhausted by existing, it somehow makes it easier for me to admit the same thing to myself. I don’t feel called out; I feel accompanied.

Over time, I started using comics like these as emotional check-ins. On stressful days, I’d scroll through a few panels and notice which ones hit hardest. If the comics about overthinking social interactions made me wince, I’d realize, “Okay, maybe today’s anxiety is about relationships.” If the ones about looming disaster felt too real, that was my sign that I’d probably been reading too much bad news and needed to step back from doomscrolling.

I also noticed how sharing the comics changed conversations with friends. Instead of opening with, “I’m not doing great, but I don’t know how to explain it,” I could send a panel of a bird stuttering through a sentence or staring into the void and say, “This. This is my entire week.” Somehow, that tiny cartoon bird lowered the pressure. My friends responded more easily“Same,” “Ouch, relatable,” “Do you want to talk?”because the comic created a soft landing zone for a hard topic.

Another thing these comics taught me is that existential dread doesn’t always have to be grand or dramatic. It often shows up in small ways: the feeling that your to-do list is a hydra, the weird sadness of finishing a show you loved, the quiet panic of realizing there will never be enough time to read every book or see every place. The animals in these strips fret about migration, weather, and predators, but behind those worries are the same questions we ask: “Am I safe? Am I doing enough? Am I missing my chance?”

When I look closely, I also see how much tenderness is baked into the work. Yes, the jokes are sharp, but the colors are soft. The birds look fragile but determined. Even when a punchline is dark, the overall feeling isn’t pure hopelessnessit’s more like “We’re all scared and confused, but at least we’re here together, yelling into the same sky.” That quiet emotional balance feels oddly healing.

The more I sit with these comics, the more I think they’re not really about animals or even about jokes. They’re about the incredible, strange privilege of being alive in a world that is both beautiful and exhausting. They remind me that it’s okay to step outside, look at a bird, and think, “I’m trying my best too, little dude.” If an anxious finch can keep singing, maybe I can answer one more email, drink some water, and try again tomorrow.

And that, ultimately, is the gift of these witty wildlife comics: they don’t promise easy answers or magical fixes. They simply mirror our confusion back at us in a kinder, more charming form. They say, “Yes, life is weird and hard. But also, lookthere’s a small, ridiculous bird trying to figure it out right alongside you.” Somehow, that’s exactly the reassurance many of us need.

Final Thoughts: Laughing, Questioning, and Flocking Together

“Artist Illustrates Existential Problems Through His Witty Wildlife Comics (45 New Pics)” isn’t just another cute scroll of internet content. It’s part of a growing movement of artists using animals, humor, and gentle visuals to talk honestly about mental health, uncertainty, and the big, unanswerable questions of life. Barkman’s work stands out because it balances softness and sharpness so preciselya soothing forest palette filled with brutally accurate one-liners.

In a world where many people feel chronically overwhelmed, these comics function like tiny, illustrated check-ins from a bird-shaped therapist: no clinical language, no lectures, just a feathered friend saying, “You’re not alone in thinking this is a lot.” And sometimes, that’s more than enough.