Avian Paradise

As the barge ploughed through the dark waters of Moreton Bay I noticed a great deal of avian activity.  A flock of opportunistic seagulls scanned the turbulent froth of the boat's wake for prey.  The sun was horizon-bound and underlit their wings with gold.  A white-bellied sea eagle soared effortlessly on improbably large wings, clearly master of its domain. The beacons in that part of the route known as The W's were resting posts for cormorants, done with drying their sodden wings.  Soon the islands began to lose detail, turning to silhouette as we approached our destination. What a perfect time of day to be on Moreton Bay.  I caught a last glimpse of the unmistakeable profile of a tern, like us, homeward bound, before my reverie was interrupted by the engine rumble that signalled the time to start our engines, as the ramp was lowered and we were ushered ashore. Home.