It looks like I haven’t been busy but I have – watching, listening, writing, taking photographs.
The sun lifts over the Pacific in front of us.
A small tree is moving as if there is a rat in the upholstery its thick skin of leaves and flowers shaking, a Rainbow is feeding on top, but near me lurks an undercover bird, a glimpse of brown and surprise, not feathers but fur.
I come face to face with a young Grey-headed Flying Fox. He must be hungry, should not be out this late on his own. Coffs Botanic Gardens.
Watching Sacred Kingfishers returning to their nest after ten month or so away. We watch them from our bed.
A female King Parrot continues eating as her mate chases off another male.
At the end of our street, I can’t reach the camera on the back seat, have to get out, spooking a joey who jumps into the pouch.
Glimpses ricochet like the insides of a cloud chamber,
majestic kaos, Scarlet Honeyeaters whirling though the argent
and so many insects. Excitement days ago, not from
King Parrots feeding on the Fimbriata two metres away,
but the first Bogong Moths we have seen here swarming.
They were listed as critically endangered five years ago,
hundreds have been feeding on the Bottlebrush
and melaleuca. The air, frantic with all varieties of lives,
is a relief after headlines of insect Armageddon.
