Between Mitchell and Roma, on the Warrego Highway, a flock of around 100 brolgas flew overhead, heading for who knows where. Two questions crossed my mind. Who was the leader? And how did the birds communicate? A protective energy field seemed to encircle the flock: a sense of harmony between one and all.
Later in the day, while at the Big Rig Park in Roma, we watched something quite different. Two groups of apostle birds were at war-- over territory. An 'army' of around 12 birds huddled together and then charged the other group, squarking and pecking the 'enemy' birds until they were driven away --defeated.
On our way home, we stopped at the tiny town of Amby for an icecream and a break. A War Memorial caught my attention. Thirty-six men from this area were killed in World War I, and 47 died during World War II. What incredibly large numbers, considering the size of this small community! Some families must have suffered dreadfully, losing four or five sons.
My mind backtracked to the fighting apostle birds -- at least they didn't kill one another. Then I thought of the brolgas and of the harmony there was in that huge flock.