Cockatoo V Galah

Early one morning last week, as the wind whirled and whistled through the gum trees, my attention was drawn to noisy birds. We have many gum trees, several wattle trees, and a few dead gums with their barren grey branches reaching nakedly towards the sky. Usually the dead branches at the very tops of the gum trees are empty, apart from early morning when the red-tailed black cockatoos perch to greet the day. Feathers occasionally drop from their red tails and a hunt in the long grass will offer up a treasure of a feather, distinctive and bright, lying amongst the dry undergrowth.

This particular morning the screeching did not come from the red-tailed black cockatoos; instead the pink and grey galahs had taken over ownership of the dead branches. Poor black cockatoos circled and whirled, eventually settling on different branches several metres away. The two following days saw the same pattern repeated, but this morning the red-tailed black cockatoos had once again resumed ownership of their tree.

The photo shows the galahs in the tree tops.

Taxi!

Some creatures on this earth are beautiful, some downright ugly, some delightful and some scary. Spiders fit into the last category, though I do know that spiders may only be scary to a few ... I am one of the few!

Until I came to Australia spiders were mainly only seen outdoors and none, apart from the Katipo which I have never seen, were harmless. The Katipo I suspect is a first cousin to the Red-back spider in Australia and perhaps the Black Widow is of the same genre. As you may guess I try not to study the habits, or the varieties of spiders! Too often spiders form part of my day in the mid-west of Australia; some I ignore, others I scream loud and long enough for My Man to come to the rescue.

My last encounter did however grab my attention. My Man was sitting outdoors under the verandah; I was indoors knitting. Sounds a boring type of late afternoon doesn't it?

My Man called out, "Your friend is out here."

"Pardon?" Well my hearing does leave a little to be desired especially if I am not really expecting conversation.

"Your friend!"

I decided to go out and take a look. There on a rubber mat, half hidden from my view by a chain, sat, or stood [how does one tell?] a rather large spider. I resisted the temptation to cry out. It was a huntsman and rather large ... [a ball point pen is to its left in the photo ... carefully placed there for a size comparison].

My Man commented on the unusual lumps on its body. Quite frankly I hadn't taken that close a look! A glance had told me it was a spider; there was no more I needed to know. He poked at it with a piece of wood and it jumped/dropped/fell to the concrete. It was then I noticed a large number of what at first I thought were ants rushing from the accident scene. I looked again. Ants do not moved like that! A closer look told me the little creatures were baby spiders. It was then I remembered that somewhere, sometime, I had read spiders carry their young on their back. I know that to be a truth! Junior spider uses a parent as a taxi.

Roo Highway

This planet, viewed from above, must appear as a series of highways. I wonder what extra-terrestrials, if they exist, must think when they see the criss-crossing of roads and tracks, some leading to the city, others out of the city, and many simply tracks to scattered homesteads. I know that map reading is not the easiest! It's OK if we are on country roads, but city streets ... no way! I leave navigating to the driver; it is easier on my nerves.

Today we drove to an air show choosing to take the byways instead of the highways where traffic is invariably always in a rush. Admittedly the byways are seldom tarsealed but one gets used to hanging on to the bar placed in front of passengers who have travelled on sealed roads.

Not far from our venue we stopped; it was coffee and biscuit time; not an essential stop I know, but after rising early and breakfasting as the sun rose, I deemed it desirable to indulge in a sugar hit.

To our left My Man pointed out the 'Roo Highway'. I did stare blankly for one moment until it dawned exactly what he had said. I looked out.

A distinct track led down the berm, a roll of fur on the bottom wire of the fence showed that a kangaroo had pushed its way under the fence line. Initially I assumed kangaroos jumped a fence! However the evidence pointed to the truth. Across the road three different tracks down the slope merged before the Roo Highway.

Had we been earlier we may have witnessed kangaroos crossing their highway as they headed to the thicker ground-cover down the hillside.

What was that?

The weather is cooler making life in the Mid-West enjoyable again. Once the almost unbearable humidty left our shores the habit of carrying a hand towel all day just to wipe excessive perspiration is no longer necessary.

The creatures of a stifling summer have departed. Little gnats that managed to find a small entrance indoors to congregate around the light bulbs have diminished. An outside light left on all night did help to redirect them outdoors! Moths crashing into the glass door have found other places, or perhaps our adult tawny frog-mouths have devoured them.

After a long hot dry summer when dust and wind were the order of the day, a couple of small showers [Yes ... RAIN, if one can call the almost 2mls of water in the rain gauge rain] brought to light other creatures. Australia is a land of creatures!

Yesterday as I dropped momentarily into the armchair I happened to glance downwards. There, near the edge of the mat a creature with what seemed a million legs, lay quietly. I didn't scream! [Now had it been a mouse I may have!] I looked closely. A centipede, or a millipede ... I am not sure which is which ... carefully camoflaged by the mat, lay on its back. Something had caused its demise; for which I was thankful. My task was simple ... tell Dave to put it outdoors. He obliged ... just imagine if one had to knit little socks for such a creature!

A Stick?

The understatement of this year would be a comment on the weather! At last we have had some decent rain, 50mls over two days, but even that is drying out with the winds that whip across.

At the moment of a storm bird life and animal life disappears from view, apart from Jack the 'Lassie dog' that lives across the way. He takes it upon his undoglike self to stand, high on the mound created from a septic tank sump, and bark at the rain while his long usually well groomed coat attains the status of 'drooping'.

One evening whilst taking rubbish to the bin, and after strong winds had whistled around the eaves all day, I noticed a strange looking piece of gum tree. Not often did a fresh green twig fall to the ground, unless of course the wind was relatively strong. Mmmm ... I stooped to pick up this branch to place it in the bin with the kitchen debris of the day. It was then that I noticed a horde of small ants grouping around this branch. I took a closer look. This branch was not a branch! It was a stick insect!

I will confess that picking up insects is not part of my job requirement on this planet. Calling My Man to the rescue, I managed to persuade him to place it on top of the gas water heater for a photo opportunity.

It is amazing how creatures on this planet disguise themselves to fit into their environment.

Sweet nothing

I have written before of 'The Avenue', which is a track down to the water pump; its name coming from the glorious white-barked gum trees that line this gravel walkway. It was in one of these gum trees that I spied a morepork [owl] though must confess his residency was short lived. Perhaps this little bird, for it was a juvenile, decided that it didn't appreciate a daytime sleep being interrupted by humans walking to and fro past its hidey-hole. How can a bird sleep under such difficult circumstances!

The meter-box that hid, for a short time, the black snake that still causes me to shake at the thought, is towards the end of 'The Avenue'. In spite of the snake, and I am convincing myself that snakes do not go to the same place twice [a comforting thought!], I trail regularly down The Avenue to switch on the water pump. Most days this is indeed a pleasant pastime that cuts wash-day blues into a smaller part.

Now that the days are hot, and the gum trees are in full blossom, that walk deceives the mind into thinking it must be near an airfield where small planes buzz, buzz, all day. However there are no aeroplanes in sight. The noise is simply bees gathering honey. Small honey bees flit from perfumed flower to perfumed flower; that perfume remarkably heady in the morning air. When one wanders along a city street many perfumes waft by ... most are artificial, and many are unpleasant causing one to wrinkle the nose and wonder why, oh why, a human body can dab such odours in places designed to send perfumes far and wide.

The other morning the buzz of the bees busily gathering honey sent me back to the house for the camera. Would I be able to capture the hive at work? The result is below ... the bees seem to not be bothered by human presence, and I wonder if they realise that this particular human is partial to a slab of fresh bread spread with honey?

It was black!

As is the case with many homes in 'the bush', our water supply emanates from a bore. Thankfully the water is not brown, nor does it stain any place it lands. The water from our bore is pure and clear. Not that I drink it except in coffee or tea ... I buy bottled water from the supermarket. This is because of the propaganda one reads about germs in water.

Anyway, back to the story in hand.

Our water is pumped by electric pump from the bore to a holding tank near the house. Each time I wash the clothes, as part of a routine, I wander down 'the avenue' and switch on the pump, which isn't as efficient as it could be. Any where from an hour to and hour and a half later the tank overflows and I hurry down to switch the pump off. Easy! 'The Avenue' [so named by no other than myself] is a formed track lined with an avenue of gums that have a fascinating bark. At one stage of their growth the bark is almost white, then in a certain time of the year the bark tends to peel off, much like a cast orange skin that just misses the trash bin. Bark lies in interesting shapes along the track.

Another phenonomen that is beginning to occur at this time of year is the ritual stripping of end leaves, and small twigs, of the gum trees by galahs and twenty eights. The Avenue then displays a carpet of crunchy green ... until the sun's heat dries it when it turns into a rather pretty shade of pinky beige. One can imagine a cool living room decorated in the colours of the leaves still on the tree [a cool almost lime green], with accents of the pinky beige.

Recently the house tank overflowed. I had a larger wash than usual so hurried down to switch the pump off. Upon opening the door of the meter box, to my utmost horror, something black sprung up from the base of the box. I slammed the lid down and almost ran back to Dave insisting he come and see.

Once upon a time a family of geckos lived in the meter box ... sometimes one would fall out when I opened the door as it had been too close to the edge. What I recoiled from was not a gecko!

Dave armed himself with a tool designed to hold snakes at bay. I armed myself with a spade. Tools of the trade if we were in the business of disposing of snakes! By this time I was persuaded that what I had seen must have been a snake ... if it wasn't simply the piece of stick that rested on the bottom of the box, just in case Mrs Redback decided to make a birthing spot for her babies.

Refusing to open the door ... I am not silly ... I insisted Dave undertake that honour. Gingerly he opened the door. There was nothing there!

For a moment he looked doubtfully at me. Did he think I had imagined the black thing?! I persuaded him that I had indeed seen something, and that something was black and sprung up.

There was a small arpeture at the bottom of the box; we surmised that Mr Snake, which I was informed most likely was a harmless python [still a snake!!!], had most likely slid earthwards through this small opening. Needless to say it was with some trepidation that I switched the pump on and off for the next few times. Now I realise that a snake would probably not go back to the same place twice if its source of food was no longer available.

Yesterday one of the geckos, or one of its relatives, had returned. I will now continue to be careful when opening the door to the meter box.