As sunlight starts to skid through the bush, I emerge for some light gardening. Antechinus scats inhabit one of my boots and the welcome mat. We are fond of the little beasts and their neat cylinders have no smell.
An Osprey sails to sea off Women’s Beach. A repeated whistling gives away elegant birds, ghostly place in the misty light. Grey-tailed Tatlers joined by their youngster from the back of the rocks. A species seen here once before – a wonderful gaze.
An hour later, just off the path to the tavern, a family of Frogmouths perch less than a metre off the ground. It seems precarious, but with 30 million years of experience, who are we to argue. We are the species who imagine wilderness.
A Bar-shouldered Dove drops onto the study awning just above my head, then another. I hear a light commotion, see tail feathers jerking, a couple of dainty contour feathers swing down. Both land on the railing in front of me then fly off, the male calling again, probably wanting more.
