Sweeping back the waxy fan-like leaves reveals a low-hanging branch, draped in climbers and surrounded by pitcher plants. The afternoon sun—high in the sky—sends a spotlight drifting down to the forest floor, lighting centre stage.

All around, the leaves rustle in anticipation. The wind holds its breath. Even rain droplets are suspended mid-drip, waiting.

Snap!

A bird of paradise unfurls its tail feathers like a lady-in-waiting, bright aquamarine shapes dancing as eyes in the spotlight. He flutters them back and forth, feet pattering along the branch as he tap-dances and fans away to an internal song. Just as suddenly as he began, he vanishes back into the undergrowth, leaving only a couple of dark feathers drifting to the canopy floor in his wake.

The audience is growing. Dark-eyed monkeys peer cautiously alongside quivering plants, their excitement building.

In the distance, a howling noise begins to build and build. The towering rain clouds are growing on the horizon. Louder and louder, like drums, the noise pours in from every direction. Four howler monkeys burst into view, glossy charcoal hair making them appear like holes against the vibrant green backdrop. Their screeches and howls fill the air as they sing songs that only they can truly understand. A barbershop quartet. They move on after a few minutes—their chants echoing and waning with them as they slowly disappear into the rainforest.

The sun’s spotlight has moved on to showcase a new act: for this trick, I will make an audience member disappear… The words aren’t ever said aloud, but everyone knows what the pitcher plant’s magic trick entails—everyone apart from one unsuspecting fly, who drifts forward, enticed by the sickly sweet, sticky substance coating the pitcher plant’s rim…

It closes with a satisfying swish, too fast for anyone to truly see how the magic trick works—how it makes the fly disappear.

Evening is beginning to draw in, and the audience is bubbling with eager eyes watching the stage. In the distance, rain clouds rumble, drawing closer and closer—just holding off for the finale.

Long fingers creep around the stem of a vine-laden tree. Some of the young monkeys gasp and hide their heads in their mother’s laps. The two long fingers creep nearer and nearer to the audience. A couple of the plants tremble. Suddenly, the aye-aye reveals itself: dark fur and a ghostly white face—its yellow eyes seem to stare into the very souls of the audience, before it slowly drifts away into the darkness, leaving a feeling of unsettled awe in its wake.

The audience knows the circus is almost over for one day. The clouds rumble above again, darkening the already dark sky, signalling the final act.

Against the twirling vines and leaves, a whirl of tiny white dots ascends, seemingly from nowhere. The tiny fairy flies take flight. Their white wings and fluffy bodies glistening in the moonlight. It looks like a bucket of stars has been poured over the audience. Sleepy young animals blink their eyes in bleary wonder—amazed at the sight—and parents make wishes as the flies swirl past them into the night.

An ominous rumble fills the air with static electricity and the first plump drops of rain. The stage grows dark, retreating into the shadows, as the audience slowly returns to home and sleep. They dream of colourful dancers and a sky full of sparkling wishes.

Alicia Hayden

Alicia Hayden is in her final year at Oxford University studying Biology. Alicia has always loved the natural world, which has inspired her work, and she is an award-winning wildlife photographer and poet, artist, writer, and aspiring filmmaker. She self-published her first poetry book, Rain before Rainbows, in 2020, from which 50% of the profits go to the wildlife hospital Tiggywinkles.

You can find out more on her website, or follow her on Instagram (@aliciahaydenwildlife) and Facebook (@aliciahaydenwildlife)

“The Hidden Circus” by Alicia Hayden

Alicia Hayden