Fruity Bats

As each season passes in the Kimberley, our thoughts often drift to the fierce bush-fires, the sweeping storms, or the vibrant red pindan dust wafting in the hot air. We may also reflect on the remote Indigenous communities dotting the landscape. Yet, for me, it’s the transient locals that capture my fascination during this time: the graceful fruit bats, soaring and fluttering through yet another remarkable chapter of the year. Not so graceful when we devoted the whole year growing our mangoes from the 15 trees only to see them half eaten in the end. Any mangoes that got tossed to the ground were fed to the pigs. After their feed, the fruit bats soared to the sky to finish their meal with a drink of water. I followed the thousands of bats and they led me to a spring water pond at the edge of the never ending outback. Making myself invisible I crept under the tall grass and parted a shrub with my arms, marvelling at my discovery. I follow one bat amongst many, watching how it grazed the surface of the water with its belly. It flies to a low tree branch right in front of me and it locked eyes with mine, never minding that I took note on how it groomed all the water droplets off its furry belly. It’s one thing to watch it on a discovery channel, but another to see how it works for yourself. I began to contemplate on how even the bats shared their mangoes with the pigs, and in return they let the bats drink their water. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

​

Author Anya Stride