After two 45-degree days, early bunuru / second summer, waning gibbous moon in the morning western sky, water to a level making it difficult to swim, I notice there are but two ducks left. The blue and musk left when diving was no longer an option, the shelducks went with them, the pink ears flew a few days ago, and yesterday the teals and most of the Pacific black ducks left. Only two Pacific blacks remain, one in the eucalyptus shade on the eastern edge, one under the Moreton bay figs on the southern end. 

With the others went most of the swans, bar two of this season’t cygnets—one in the centre, black-grey feathers in the morning sun, his fearless sibling eating figs, then returning across the water. Otherwise it’s black winged stilts, a white faced heron in the centre, moorhens in the mud, swamphens on the grass, crakes on the drier ground, with a few dotterels and a sandpiper further south, maybe a small raptor, rails in the rushes, and so on. But, mostly, today, the wetter of the water birds have moved on.