A few nights ago my love and I decided to witness a rather special phenomenon which occurs here with daily regularity: every day around dusk hundreds of flying foxes trek into the valley, from the Booyong rainforest reserve down the road, from Alstonville, Fernleigh and other localities. We sat down, about twenty minutes before dusk, on the little bench next to the bonfire and waited for the cicadas to start their evening concerto, the kookaburras to burst out in laughter, and the skies to darken to an opaque red-grey hue. Suddenly, the flying foxes appeared out of nowhere, from all directions. Weeks earlier we had seen them flying in through the valley towards the big Moreton Bay fig in front of the house, but this time we saw them do their in-flight dances from close by, circling around the tree, cutting corners mid-flight, chasing each other in and out of the foliage, screeching and screaming. A beautiful sight.
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