Diary from a treesitter in the Bulga State Forest day 43

Lizzie raced around the trunk this morning, stopping only 12 inches from my nose to give me the longest, coldest, hardest stare as if to say “what dee HELL ya doin'” and giving me the chance to notice her incredibly fine golden fingers and toes. This happened after my second failed attempt to throw the end of my rope over a branch at the top of “rock steady”. l packed up my human clumsiness and descended to the platform, avoiding any chance of knocking her off.

and from a certain tree over the way came a fluttering, a beating of wings and a rustling of foliage like you’ve heard before but couldn’t see…. It’s… the Wonga Pigeon! 
Revealed after a twilight’s observation, White Headed Pigeons fly up the valley in a V  (like the “red arrows”) before a smaller, greyer female makes a break for it, hotly pursued by a larger and paler male. Finally comes the distant cry of a single Glossy Black. l so hope they come back from the brink, this forest and its unburnt Casuarina needs to be protected!