The night is deep and black with tiny phosphorescent leaves, molds and bugs shining like stars. The night is as noisy as a thousand birds, but instead of chirps and whistles, there are the buzzes, clicks, and beeps of insects and the occasional hysterical cry of an owl or the deep loud hoot of a giant fruit dove.
A baby tree kangaroo snuggles against his mother’s pouch, not daring to venture too far from the safety of his tiny furry home. Down below, a giant cassowary bird thuds by and the baby clings tighter to his mother. He is safe. The mother tree kangaroo is eating the tender year-round baby leaves of various trees, trimming them so they will produce more fruit. She ignores the ants that protect the tree from devouring bugs. Instinctively she takes her place in this complex delicate ecosystem.
This dark night is what she is used to. Day time birds are her lullaby. She lives in the rainforest of New Guinea which is still mostly untouched, sacred. It has more birds in it than any place else in the world. Each day when the morning mist rises the loud swoosh of the hornbill awakens the world as the large birds zoom into the valley from higher parts to feast on fruit and play. The haunting call of the bird of paradise cries out and the mist rises. When the sun is up the rivers rapidly go down from churning currents to clear ripples as the trees stop putting billions of gallons of rain into the night sky. Then cicadas drone incessantly and blue butterflies and swallows dip and dive in the clearing made by the river. Exotic flowers and fruit are scattered throughout the forest as every plant in this forest blooms. This is paradise.
But someone wants to cut a few trees - just a few. The rest they leave hoping vainly to preserve the forest. There is a loud crash. Vines pull down more trees, nests break open, babies in hollows are smashed and trees and flowers lie dead. But that is not the worst of it. A gap is made in the canopy. The sun pours in to the unprotected ground and kills the baby trees that are left. With no trees to hold the thin soil in this hole in the forest, rain quickly washes it a way. Without the evaporation of the leaves the air becomes dry and the area becomes barren. Eventually there may only be a field of grass or a dessert left. At the very least, if the hole is small enough to maintain some rainforest characteristics, it fills with hardy weeds and all of the species larger than insects evacuate it.
But somebody cares enough to buy a tract of forest further in and preserve it. There butterflies still congregate on sparkly sand bars. Cicadas still drone and cockatoos do acrobatics somersaulting hundreds of feet through the air. Parrots screech and mynahs choose their own songs. The baby tree kangaroo, waiting for the night has traveled far with his mother to this spot. He nibbles on the soft tips of the trees. Somewhere a branch falls naturally and he quivers softly. But this time he is safe.