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The egret roost was in a tree, on an island in the middle of a lake. As
dusk approached, the first group of egrets arrived, followed quickly by
successive squadrons. As the sky darkened, the roost began to look like
a Christmas tree, full of white candles.
The stylish white birds struck various cool poses and squabbled interminably
with latecomers, and with neighbours over issues which were not evident
to me. Eventually, darkness brought sleep to most of them, but the relative
quiet accentuated the strangeness of the squawks and croaks of the sleepless.