We walk in daylight. Rarely do we see dunnarts, antechinuses, potoroos, bandicoots; the Australian mammals that are shy, nocturnal, and unaccustomed to predators. They’re vulnerable in their innocence. Why do we know of large African animals but even the names of Australian native animals seem foreign? Disney movies taught us! We occasionally see a lone wallaby, sometimes a mob of kangaroos, usually only a lone male or a mother and joey. Yet sometimes we have reason to contemplate the animals that live alongside a trail.
Was it a quenda that ate a hole into my tent last night? I woke at the sound of dried peas hitting the walls of a plastic container. Right beside my ear! The lid was tightly sealed but usually I’d have all my food packed and double-bagged away in my pack that probably has more of an aroma of sweat than tasty food. The little furry creature must have a powerful sense of smell. When I’d set up my tent, I’d heard some scuffling in the bushes.
Funny how we remember things as we walk. I’d taken everything out of my tent to help the animal see a clear path out after it had circled the perimeter and hid amongst my mess of stuff. It wasn’t a rat or a demon despite urgent stories of walkers angered by similar dilemmas. I wished it well; delighted to see it closely.