Cool moist night air softly drifts into the house. Night chirrups. In the forest, a bird calls. Toe–toe-wit. Toe–toe-wit. Slow ‘Toe’ then quicker ‘toe-wit’.

Earlier, at dusk, two willy wagtails courting on our deck. One agitated and restless, jumping around, flying up to the rafters and down again, frantically twitching its tail back and forth and calling tch tch tch. The other sitting quietly on the back of a chair, watching, waiting, singing a beautiful melody once or twice. Loud, so close to where we are sitting. The restless one joins the quiet one and they are both still, regarding each other, as if lovingly. They sing quiet little songs to each other. They fly up into the corner of the deck, vanish from sight for a while, then come back down. Is that a post-coital cigarette they’re sharing?

Earlier, as the afternoon waned, two wallabies nibbled at the newly-mown grass. We watched them from the bedroom window. They knew we were there, but weren’t as anxious as wallabies in the past. Their big ears twitch and rotate at the sound of our voices, but they don’t leap away. We can see them so clearly. A white line runs from the mouth up to the eye. Their paws are black, foreshortening their arms. Black tips on their ears and nose. Red highlights on their backs and necks. Thick grey-beige fur elsewhere. Big black eyes, watchful.

Earlier, in the brash afternoon, the two blue wrens that have been frequenting the deck came by. The male – a young bright newly-blue boy – has been attacking his reflection in every window. We hear him tapping at the glass. His favourite spots are marked by a series of little white dots on the ground. He must sit for a while contemplating himself. The light brown female hops around, carefree, not needing either vanity or jealousy to fuel her days.