 Why is the narrator the only one who notices a flight of volplas soaring slowly across the full Moon?
Yet I had always been so sure I could create them that I had been calling them volplas for ten years. I had called them volplas since the day old Nijinsky's elongated arms and his cousin's lateral skin folds had given me the idea of a flying mutant. It would be several hours before they would begin to move, to learn to feed and play, perhaps to learn to fly. I would teach them legends: that they had come from the stars, that they had subsequently watched the first red men and then the first white men enter these hills. There would be volpla colonies all up and down the Coast before anyone suspected. Volpla wisdom would become a cult—and of all forms of comedy, cults, I think, are the funniest.
 Because people generally only notice what they look for and would dismiss the phenomenon as something else.
 Because volplas are fictional creatures and people do not believe they exist.  Because other witness believe this was ET with  a little boy riding his bicycle over the moon.  Because people generally only notice what they look for and would dismiss the phenomenon as something else.  Because it is nighttime and everyone is indoors.