There were little holes dotted over the ground. My first thought is “rats!” Because I remembered one year when the rats neatly stole the corn seeds I’d planted. But there were no corn seeds here.
A couple of days later I come out the front door and there is a currawong pecking at the ground. I stand and watch. The bird watches me too, wary. We keep our distance. Better currawongs than rats, I think.
In another spot, along the fence, a fungi forest has appeared. It’s been a wet year, another wet year—and it’s only March. The fungi is beautiful. And this batch particularly mysterious, easy to miss as it blends into the leaf litter.
