The winter day melds into the twilight. In that window of half light the bats are silhouetted against the sky, angular wide wings, searching and circling for their dinner. Most evenings one settles in the palm tree and noisily eats the fruit. Then with a whoosh and more rustling it pops over to peel mandarins off my mandarin tree. Darkness descends, the air is cool and I go back inside, shutting the door. Night life begins in earnest. I fall asleep in front of the television alongside the snakes and geckos and lizards who all feel sluggish in the cool temperatures. Time for the rats and mice to have a field day. Dougall, my neighbour's boxer has come outside to warn everyone he is in control and barks a hearty good night. As I snuggle down into bed bush stone curlews set off their whistling wail which culminates in a crescendo. I lie awake listening to them. They quieten as the gentle patter of possums is heard making their way over my tin roof. This is the the time they will scurry around, sometimes have races or fights just outside my bedroom window and in the hours of darkness feed on avocados and roses, everything the garden menu may have on offer. I fall into a fitful sleep only to be woken by a cacophony of kookaburras having a bawl in the poinsiania tree in the garden. I head out to the deck and find my butcher bird waiting for its breakfast.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Leave a comment :)