I get the candles going in my flat and hunt out the cupboards and all my hiding spots with a camping lantern. Princess Pie stops making her baby noises and lets out a proper caw, black as the night. Wallamina doesn’t get stuck in the corner. Without electricity, the whole world has been returned to its proper darkness. He leaps away and off across the yard, squishes his fat body through the chicken-wire fence and away. Don’t even have time for a ‘Hey there, fella’ before he bursts out at my face, bubble eyes glinting in the moonlight. I crouch down level to the pen and fumble with the latch. Baby rock-rat Rocky is suddenly grown up and trying to eat his way out the door of his cage.
Even the critters in my yard have come alive.
Anything fresh will be mouldy by morning. Something in my cupboard chews its way into a packet. Without any lights, the night takes over. The animals around us squawk their mysteries and we’re none the wiser. There’s a petrol bowser up at the food store that will keep the cars moving for a while. I get my Holden going to give my mobile a boost too. All over the estate, the sound of the Park’s ute engines charging phones and batteries. The inside of my fridge is warm already in the fuggy night. A lecturer in creative writing at Massey University, McKay is also the “animal expert” presenter on ABC Listen's Animal Sound Safari. McKay is the author of Holiday in Cambodia, which was shortlisted for three national book awards in Australia. The following is excerpted from Laura Jean McKay's latest novel, The Animals in That Country, which asks what would happen if we finally understood what animals were saying.
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