Komodo: A Magnificent Conclusion
The morning’s silence was broken by unrelenting squeaks, penetrating the wooden walls of our cabin. It sounded like hundreds of rats, or birds, I was not sure. I got up from my bed, took my camera and went to the deck upstairs. The sound became louder and clearer, coming from the direction of where the Flying Fox Island was.
But the island was empty last night, I thought.
With my zoom lens I inspected the source of the commotion over the mangroves on the island. Large black animals with shades of brown – around the same size of an adult cat – hanging upside down from the higher branches of the trees. Apparently the flying foxes had returned to the island while we were sleeping the night before.
Moments after the sun rose from the east, our boat began moving towards Rinca’s sister…
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