A Country Notebook

East Meets West

2011-08-07T15:05:00.001+10:00

An example of framing available for prints and posters at www.youbeaut.com.

Snakes Alive!

2011-07-28T18:04:00.004+10:00

Now, that's a snake! Love this picture of a python passing by a house at Cardwell in Queensland.

Cardwell was devastated by the cyclone that hit the region earlier this year.

We also heard that two four metre snakes were recently removed from the ceiling of a house in Yorkey's Knob.

Why did the pheasant cross the road?

2010-12-01T12:10:00.001+11:00

Yes ... that's right. A pheasant crosses the road a couple of kilometres before Newstead on the Newstead - Castlemaine road. Symes Road was the nearest corner although you would never really know as there is not a sign to name it. And yes ... the picture is lousy.

Speculation ... why is this bird - probably a Chinese Ringneck (Phasianus colchicus torquatus) (or a mutant cross?) wandering around our region?

One immediately thinks 'escaped' and this is almost certainly the case. And I cannot help wondering if the recent heavy rains might have contributed to the situation. Rains that flooded caravan parks and houses might also have flooded aviaries and animal pens. If we find out more, we'll add it here.

Country images: Spring

2010-11-04T12:15:00.000+11:00

Drought breaking rains have given us the best start possible spring in 14 years. Here we see the Muckelford Creek and the blue iris around the historic Corriedale Cottage, both on the Castlemaine road.

A time away ...

2010-10-04T15:39:00.000+11:00

People say that travel broadens the mind. Well, lets live in hope. Travelling abroad would need to do something useful considering how many folk are dashing about the planet. The urge to buy an authentic baguette in a village in Bordeaux or pick up a little something from Hammacher Schlemmer on 57th Street is somewhat akin to the sea-change movement of the nineteen seventies and eighties but without the investment of the energy it required to create a new and different life-style. This grumpy old man says take their passports away! Let common sense prevail over the “because I can I will” attitude of the overpaid and/or credit card addicted.

But that is not really what I wanted to talk about.

I’ve been travelling around our fair country enjoying the rain everywhere. In particular, I spent a few weeks in the Illawarra region on the coast north of Wollongong and below the forested escarpment that rises up so dramatically from the coast and links up with the Royal National Park that extends all the way to Botany Bay.

The temperate rainforest with its tall eucalypts and extensive and often primeval under-storey of berry and fruiting shrubs, creepers, orchids, cabbage palms, ferns and of course the impressive Gymea Lily Doryanthes excelsa with its 2-3 metre tall single stemmed dark red flower the size of a dinner plate, is almost daunting to someone used to the beautiful but simple central Victorian landscape. Suddenly almost every plant is new and crying out to be identified. Fortunately I resisted that urge quite early in my visit and simply settled back to enjoy the walks both in the bush and along the beaches and cliffs.

The quantity of bird life too was memorable and I added a few new sitings to my list even though I’m not a twitcher (twitcher: someone who cannot stop compiling an ever-growing list of birds they have sited in the outdoor space. This is different from a tweeter who is someone who sends tweets via cyber space although I suppose a bird twitcher might cyber tweet the results of their latest twitching – if you know what I mean.) Seeing large flocks of King Parrots Alisterus scapularis high up in the tall eucalypts on the higher plateaus was memorable. White Headed Pigeons Columba leucomela swarmed to a palm when its fruit suddenly ripened leaving seed debris below the tree and which in turn provided a feast for the small creatures of the night.

Late one afternoon I heard what I thought to be two cats wailing at each other just outside the little weatherboard house where we were staying. On investigation, all I could discover was a large green bird in a bush observing me quizzically. Not finding any angry moggies I started to return indoors when the cat bru-ha-ha started all over again. Turning round, I saw the green bird at full voice. What I at first thought to be a young Satin Bower Bird turned out to be a Green Cat Bird, Ailuroedus crassirostris which I knew almost nothing about. I could only marvel at its call from which it got its name.

On the Wodi Wodi track, a three kilometre walking track at Stanwell Park easily accessible from the main beach road, we discovered the difficulties and wonders of the hidden forest as the track leads down and through gorges and creeks and along narrow ledges. It was here that my partner, who was leading, suddenly stopped. A beautiful young Diamond Python Morelia spilota showing brilliant green, gold and black markings, lay dozing in a dappled sunlit patch on the track. We suspected that it had not long discarded its old skin and which would account for its brilliant colouring. With a little persuasion the snake moved slowly off of the track so that we could continue.

Coming or going?

Ticks were new to me. I thought that I simply had a pimple on my chin hidden in the stubble of my beard. Not so. A visit to the doctor removed the interesting little critter and also the one on the shoulder of my partner.

Finally, given the recent arrival of deer in the Muckleford Forest, I was interested in how the deer population had spread throughout the Royal National Park. I had wondered at the extensive fencing work going on along either side of the railway line coming from Sydney. It began at the parks forest edge. Then, from the carriage, I glimpsed my first Rusa deer feeding less than one hundred metres from the train. Obviously a creature that could easily throw a train timetable into disarray, fencing the line on both sides will hopefully provide the answer.

Over the time we were there I saw another two Rusa. I also met a lad coming out of the forest carrying a set of antlers he had found lying around. Then we heard from the local butcher that his grandmother lived in a house in a steeper part of the town where, in winter, a stag regularly camped under the front of the house that stood on posts a few metres high. Maldon residents may well have something similar in deer activity to look forward to.

I expected to come back to a dry Maldon, even a frost perhaps. Not so. This warm wet reminds me of the Illawarra. Is it possible that this is the beginning of the weather of the north moving southward? Maybe, but that is unlikely. It’s just a simple old Indian Ocean Dipole coupled with a La Niña in the Pacific. You know the ones. They usually get together every eleven to fourteen years. I wonder if I’ll be around to see the next one!

A coffee and a piece of baguette with a drizzle of greenhouse gas anyone?

Links:
More about Stanwell Park and the Illawarra

Soggy

2010-07-02T15:40:00.000+10:00

Soggy sheep, soaking ‘roos, squelchy paddocks, slippery bush tracks, joyful swimming creatures and luckless ducks have brought spring vividly into my focus this year.

Observing and enjoying nature properly requires that we slow down and tune in. Sitting on the river bank which runs alongside the car park below the weir at Laanecoorie recently, I deliberated on the state of our waterways as I gazed slowly up and down the barely moving dark green stream, looking for signs of life. Slowly the heads of water tortoises began to appear and disappear, bobbing gently in the green algae saturated soup. A swamphen called a couple of times from the reed bed on the far bank, and then all was quiet. Suddenly the water swirled a short distance in front of me and I wondered what it could be! A large carp maybe, or even one of the big Murray Cod the locals say still survive in the Loddon river around here? A platypus maybe? Suddenly, a furred creature appeared, quite large; it was a water rat - or rather two water rats!

Water rats (Hydromys chrysogaster) spend most of their day in creek-bank burrows, coming out at night to feed on yabbies, shellfish, fish, plants, insects and even small mammals, but you can sometimes spot them feeding or playing in the early morning or late afternoon. It is a different species to the Bush-rat (Rattus fuscipes), and neither is it related in any way to the common house rat (Rattus rattus).

For the next half-hour or more these energetic creatures entertained with their antics, diving and muzzling one another playfully, then disappearing to reappear at the edge of the far bank and then back again. Sometimes, when one was feeding or doing something in the mud in the shallows, I could see only its long tail with its distinctive white tip. The water rat was once valued for its dense fine fur and was hunted in some states until quite recently and which probably provided the lesser known name for the animal, Beaver rat. A new name, 'Rakali' has been officially put forward as the prefered common name. I wonder how long it will be before we hear people saying "I saw a Rakali in the dam today"? (See links below.)

I cannot recall having seen much mention of our water rat in Australian literature, and one wonders whether it has or ever will attract the attention of writers of children’s picture books and fiction in a similar fashion to the animals depicted in say Kenneth Grahame’s The Wind-in-the Willows or the Beatrix Potter stories. It has the same endearing anthropomorphic qualities of those small creatures that inspired these writers. My guess is that apart from giving animals human attributes being out of favour, so too would the water rat face very strong competition from our Aussie line-up which would include the platypus, bilbi, koala, possum, echidna and all things that hop and along with some popular lizards. Perhaps the name rakali will help.

Another ‘wheel of life’ story, which I did not witness but which was passed on to me this week from a well-known local resident, relates a drama played out above the town rooftops.

In the tall chimney of a large Victorian house in Templeton Street, a pair of Australian Wood Ducks had made their nest and laid a clutch of eggs. Whether the eggs had hatched, or were close to hatching, we do not know but the two Kookaburras who spent the best part of a day removing the contents of the duck’s nest, knew what they were after. Who needs a TV natural history documentary showing animals eating other animals when we’ve got the real thing in our own backyard?

The rains have invigorated the natural world around us. Yes, the grass is growing faster than you can mow it but remind yourself that just a few months ago you would have said “What grass?” Meanwhile, it’s the right time to think about planting native shrubs and trees. It is a good time for digging up the dreaded oxalis in the flower beds and even digging up the flower beds and the lawn and planting native plants to reduce the need for watering later on. Native plants - shrubs and trees, flowers and grasses – should go in now so that next year the harsh summer dry will seem less a time of desperation and more a quiet connection with the real and wonderful Australia. After all, you are living in it.

Links:
More than just a rat. (Rakali website)
Link for Wikipedia entry for Australian Water Rat or Rakali

Country images: Winter

2010-05-29T14:12:00.000+10:00

Corella's flock near Hepburn.

Brunswick Street revisited

2009-12-13T16:11:00.002+11:00

Fitzroy's Brunswick Street began it's rapid rise to iconic subculture status in the late 1970's and early '80's. I recently revisited it with a camera with a view to writing about the street and it's early history. I will write something more about it here later. In the meantime, take a peek at the pictures here.

Wishing You A Very Cherry Christmas

2009-11-26T19:37:00.007+11:00

Somewhere on the diggings around the Beehive Chimney, a pair of White-fronted Honeyeaters are lurking. I know because I’ve seen the male twice and heard him sing.

How do I know that he has a mate? Well, on both occasions he has gone to the same tree and sung at length from the top branches. The sitings were a week apart so he wasn’t wandering away in search of company. Also, it was the height of the breeding season and one might expect his mate to be sitting on eggs.

So what’s so interesting about this bird? Firstly I have not previously seen or heard it in or around Maldon. I saw three White-fronted Honeyeaters on a visit to Kooyoora State Park (mid-way between Inglewood and St Arnaud) a couple of years ago but others may have seen them here in Maldon and I might just have been unlucky. Secondly, the bird has a truly wonderful song which I suspect is unmatched by other honeyeaters. On first appearance one could be forgiven for thinking that it is an immature New Holland Honeyeater, a bird which Maldon has in abundance. Unfortunately, the New Holland seems particularly aggressive to strangers and I was impressed by the White-fronted Honeyeater’s dogged singing despite the constant swooping attacks from its cousins.

Making hay while the weather permits is an essential component of successful livestock farming, although the cost of feeding livestock through the drought has now made it profitable for some farmers to grow, cut and bale a green oat crop for hay sales instead of growing oats for grain. Why risk the possibility of unwanted weather events - storms etc - resulting in no grain being harvested when, because of drought conditions in many parts of the country, a farmer can get a good price for hay and even run stock on the regrowth, especially if a fodder crop is undersown with the oats?

The weather dictates how we live and work in so many ways. Farming and horticulture are the most visibly affected. Our much appreciated local cherry orchard must survive the weather changes. Wonderful fruit growth from this year’s extra rainfall followed by a huge temperature change confused the fruit’s growth patterns and provided challenges for the fruit grower. Yes, you will most likely enjoy locally grown cherries this Christmas but only if the weather does not bring surprising and unexpected upsets with hailstones or severe hot wind storms or other nasties we could not anticipate.

Eventually everyone will have to take note of the weather much more than they do now and they will have to ask themselves what, if anything, they can do, (a) to live with the weather changes, and (b) how they might help to alleviate the problem.

Air conditioning, believe it or not, is a recent thing but not long ago it was an indulgence for the wealthy who were a bit soft and also wanted to show off their wealth. Now, like so many modern inventions, we take cool air (as we do refrigeration and cold drinks) as an essential part of our daily life, a ‘must have’ convenience. It is regarded as so necessary that air conditioning units can be seen hanging off the outside of some of Maldon’s heritage buildings like futuristic wasps nests; all hard to understand if one grew up without it as I did.

So, how will you know that you (we) have to make life changes? Well, if there are no locally grown cherries at Christmas and a lettuce costs more than you are prepared to pay then you (we) might start to take a good look at some of the things we do in our daily lives and consider if we might change some of them or do without them. Make a check-list and put at the top of it – “Eat less”, “Drink water from the tap, not the fridge (and certainly don’t drink so-called soft drinks etc.)”, and “Switch off the cooling system and find a different way to be comfortable”. It’s not that hard once you make your mind up, and eating less food, particularly heavy foods, and avoiding lolly waters and beers will make an enormous difference.

It is said that we do not make changes until we are pushed or it’s too late and that is probably true. Interestingly, there is a very real ‘feel-good’ element in making worthwhile changes to our lifestyle. If the opportunity arises, ask a reformed alcoholic or drug addict, they know about the benefits of change better than most. Undoing our cultural addictions to our daily lifestyle is the first step towards a change to a better life and coincidently, it includes helping to fix up climate change.

Country Notebook wishes you all a healthy, happy, and locally grown, juicy-cherried Christmas.

How do you like your ... ?

2009-09-04T18:43:00.022+10:00

I’m visiting a friend in a village north east of where I live who sometimes becomes a Humphrey Appleby, (you know, the character from the BBC show Yes Minister) and who gently tells me what I should not do in a way which always sounds so rational, even if not exactly ‘brave’.

You would upset too many people, that’s why.

Upset who?

Certain locals who enjoy them and have their own special places where they look for them and collect them. They would be devastated if word got about.

You mean I shouldn’t talk about something which is currently enjoying a bumper year, is delicious (apparently), can be foraged for in our own surrounding bushland and could bring gourmet food enthusiasts to the area right through September and into October. The B & B’s would love it, and the shopkeepers would love it. What is the downside other than putting the noses out-of-joint of a few of our local gourmands? These things are selling for $100 a kilo in the Melbourne market. Shouldn’t our readers know about what is growing on their doorstep so that they might at least, if they choose, taste them? Surely it is another small thing in the region to be proud of along with our vineyards, honey, pistachios, goat cheeses, Harcourt apples and local olives and olive oil?

OK. I’ll tell you what the downside could be. The early morning arrival of a dozen car loads of city folk, each equipped with a bag, and spreading out across the hills. By late afternoon, they’ve collected every available, likely-looking, edible thing, loaded up the car and headed off back to the Footscray market, or wherever. That’s it in a nutshell. No. We must keep these things under wraps. People will find out about it if they really need to or want to know.

OK. How about I write about the big carp infesting the Loddon River above and below Hamilton’s Crossing? A local fella who sells fishing worms told me the “bloody wogs love them”. Just imagine a dozen cars loaded with carp-loving families turning up with nets and buckets and carrying away a kilometre or two of European Carp. We could probably find them a grant from DSE!

The other option would be to not publicize the abundance and location but quietly publish a recipe for carp cakes and tips for preparing your carp. 1. Boil till you get something that looks like soup. 2. Sieve carefully to remove the hair-like bones. (An elderly Polish gentleman once told me that if you did not prepare carp properly, you ended up with a bowl of wet cotton wool laced with steel wool.)

With the abundance of both strong and delicate flavours available these days, I’m sure our local gourmands could creatively come up with a successful carp experience just so long as they knew where to find the carp. I’m already planning a Carp Thai Curry with side dishes of lemon grass and ginger fish balls and yabbi crackers.

Now, if I could just find about 30 grams of whatever it is that I’ve forgotten I was told not to write about, I could knock up a rather nice snack. I would find a kilo and half of prime steak, from a farm-born, raised and slaughtered beast that has hung for at least a month in a cool spot - ideally from a fifteen month old Galloway or Angus steer from a property overlooking the ocean somewhere in the south-west of the state where the constant onshore winds from the Great Australian Bite bring salt and mineral laden mists onto the mixed species pasture the cattle feed on. To the liquid I would get from cooking that which I cannot name, I’d add some dry sherry and a couple of dobs of double cream, pepper and salt - and anything else that seemed appropriate at the time - and this sauce would grace the medium rare steaks lying on the plate beside those things I cannot name. Finally, I would add a bowl of Brussels sprouts drizzled with a local olive oil to which you would add sea-salt and pepper to taste. Your choice of a local wine tops it off …What do you think?

Why don’t you write about mushrooms? People used to go mushrooming a lot. Yes, that’s what you should do, write about mushrooming. It would get people up early and out and about and away from their miserable talkback radio. I think you should write about mushrooms.

And so here is a clue ... click: Clue

Fallow ferals

2009-08-29T07:38:00.008+10:00

Fallow deer have been living in the Muckleford Forest for some time now but are rarely seen or photographed. There is much discussion on whether or not these feral animals should be removed. The numbers of feral deer are increasing around the country. While Sambar deer seem to be the most destructive in relation to native flora, Fallow deer in large numbers will no doubt have a negative effect on what should be the habitat of native fauna and flora.

Thanks to Deb for this photo of a stag grazing on her property.

1st October 2009 - NOTE: We have been asked by a number of readers for directions to the best deer viewing locations. Some of the enquiries have come openly from professional shooters, but we suspect a couple have been hunters who did not declare their hunting interests. Others are interested in simply seeing the deer and maybe showing their kids. We have decided that it would be better at this stage not to provide details, at least until we have a better understanding of the hunting situation. We will monitor the public viewpoint via the Tarrangower Times and DSE and look forward to being able to comment further down the track.

Early Spring

2009-08-17T08:23:00.004+10:00

Lambs are everywhere. Early spring has truly sprung around our district and, I suspect, right across the land. There is lots of paddock feed for the winter born livestock and hopefully, the season looks bright for crop farmers too.

New life is everywhere. In the surrounding bushland, four species of Greenhood orchids are in flower while the distinctive little shiny bright red and green, Climbing and Scented sundews claim their space. Meanwhile, leaves of the Bluebeard orchid show in dark green clumps heralding a good show of flowers in September and October. But the most common of all the orchids is still to emerge. The purple flowers of the Wax-lip orchid will be the dominant flower amongst the ground-cover plants from around late September on to November.

Wildlife is in evidence both in and out of town. The call of foxes seeking a mate can still be heard from the middle of town in the early hours, and beware the speeding night driver who does not heed the dead ‘roos and wallabies beside the road. There are plenty of live ones still able to grace the front of a car or enter, unwanted, through the windscreen.

Animals move around right through the year, but probably more so in late winter and spring. Echidna, that delightful ponderous but forever busy icon of the Australian bush is one of the more vulnerable creatures that everyone will come across as it ambles across a country road. Reduce speed as soon as you spot one for they will not hurry or respond to your car horn.

A young koala was spotted this week close to a bush road not far from the railway line in the Maldon Heritage Reserve and whilst not a common occurrence, local sightings happen throughout the year. Like the echidna, koalas too are slow to cross the road and cannot be urged on with car horns.

Pairs of Crimson Rosellas have argued among themselves (and with the occasional pair of galahs) for the right to set up house in the numerous nesting holes in the Elm trees in Maldon’s main streets. Colourful and cheery, they help bring the countryside into the town.

One of the odd-bods of the bird kingdom is the Lapwing or Plover. You will surely have seen a pair beside the road in both an urban or rural situation. A white and black head and chest with brown wings and back, and with reddish legs, they stand about like they are waiting for a bus, sometimes walking a few paces before walking back to where they were before. Territorial is an understatement and beware the cat or dog (or human) that ventures too close, particularly during the nesting season. Plovers fly around at night doing laps of the block or the town, making a raucous ‘pee-wit’ call. The birds lay their two eggs usually in stones or small rocks that act as camouflage from marauding crows and other nasties. They are odd because they seem not to notice that where they nest is often in a ridiculous spot. Last year I saw where a pair had nested in the large parking area in front of the Castlemaine warehouse from where milk is distributed around the region. Trucks and vans moved over the area constantly and although most drivers did their best to avoid the nesting spot, it was not safe for long. Similarly, Maldon folk who choose to take the rustic route to Castlemaine via Lewis road might have noticed a year or so back, that a pair of Plovers had nested right on the edge of the road. A local landowner had obligingly put up a simple framed sign warning ‘Nesting plovers ahead’.

The less welcome wildlife is also on the move and raising young, most common among them being the domestic pigeon - a recent messy problem for the town - and the murderous Indian Myna or Arial Cane Toad (my name for it), which arrived in Maldon just a couple of years back and now challenges native birds for nesting spots and food as it spreads rapidly across the country.

The earth – or this part of it at least - seems to be in a period when we can experience extreme weather events, most notably drought but also sudden and severe storms. At such times it might be easy to forget the wildlife around us. But we must not forget.

What's in a name?

2009-07-11T22:43:00.008+10:00

Forget Punter Ponting, Pup Clarke and Mr Cricket, instead, think local and think nicknames.

When I recently tried to track down something or someone in reference to a local event, I realized that not too long ago, nicknames for men were common but for some reason this was no longer the case. Trying to work out who Milky Jack really was, or the given name for Dook Cox, led me to a senior local identity for help, someone who had fond memories of the days when nicknames were commonplace in Maldon.

Probably the best known holder of a nickname in Maldon today is Kinga, builder extraordinaire, muso, and good friend to many, including those who need and appreciate a helping hand. But the question that immediately comes to mind is, “Is Kinga Maldon’s last nick-name holder?” Maybe not, but there just wasn’t time to go looking. Please let us know what you think.

Meanwhile, here is a list of nicknames from the Maldon of yesteryear supplied by our local informant. We have not changed or added anything other than to leave off real names but have included just a hint of explanation when it was thought necessary. Here they are …

Slick Annand, Barney Baxter, Boof Baxter, Bumper Baxter, Stalkey Benstead (tall and skinny), Blowie Bolitho, Hooker Bowl, Bollick Bill, Boots (large feet), Bongo Bullen, Paddy Cox, Dook Cox, Nigger Cox, Crowie Cox, Wish-em-dead (undertaker), Milky Jack (milkman), Hopper Johnson (one leg missing), Slacka Laity, Motor Leach (mechanic), Shortie Long, Chookie Pollard, Cocka Skinner, Snoopy Smith, Doggie Webster, Wireless Willy (Bill the radio mechanic) and Chippa Woods.

Meanwhile, a correspondent who remembers Wedderburn in its earlier days volunteered a couple more names and a yarn to go with them. Notable among the locals back then was Fat Richie, Grumpy Ross, and the brothers Pickles and Parkin Ball.

The yarn provided a glimpse of small town humour with a story about the Methodist minister whose car slid off a wet unsealed road and became bogged on the way to Sunday service. He arrived only a few minutes late. In his apology to the waiting congregation for his lateness he explained what had happened and how fortunate he was to have been “pulled out by the Balls”. Pickels and Parkin, that is.

As so often happens when we get side tracked, we end up with more questions than answers. Why were nicknames so popular then but less common now? And women rarely had a nickname. Why was this so? And what was the origin of nicknames to begin with? Perhaps we should consult the works of Dr Sigmund Freud. He knew a lot of stuff!

Big Bird and others ...

2008-12-05T09:14:00.017+11:00

What is the size of a small toddler, sleeps all day standing up, and can sometimes be seen with the grisly remains of last night’s dinner hanging from its claws ready for a snack on waking up? Give up?

Ninox strenua, better known as the Powerful Owl, is a local resident and the family we’ve been watching has been raised in the Nuggety’s. Locating their roosting spot is not easy. The owls move trees every few days so that if they are not where you last saw them then you need to search the branches of trees for a couple of hundred meters all around. Train your eyes to search the upper branches for unexpected shapes. Most often they choose to roost in trees on or very close to a creek or gully. Through October and November, birdie folk fortunate enough to know the owls’ whereabouts, were able to follow the progress of the two giant fluffy chicks and their parents. Usually there was only one parent sitting with the chicks but a search of trees in the vicinity would often locate the other sleeping parent. Just for the record, the female measures around 60 cm high and the male 66-cm.

Powerful Owls share their territory with the more common Ninox connivens or Barking Owl. This is the owl notorious for it’s blood curdling and human-like scream, a call heard only occasionally. Locals living in, or close to, the Nuggety Ranges report having heard this scream but only rarely. Just as well. We know of a couple who moved to the Dandenongs and who called the police at 1 am, convinced a woman was being murdered just along the bush road nearby. The police were not amused to discover that they had not heard of the local Barking Owl and its “screaming woman” call. The female Barking Owl grows to 35 cm and the male to 45 cm.

Less than a kilometer from the Powerful Owl family we were shown what looked to be a broken dead branch sticking up from the limb of a Grey Box tree some 6 or 8 meters above the ground. Closer inspection revealed that this stumpy broken branch was in fact Podargus strigoides better known as the Tawny Frogmouth. It sat stiffly at an oblique angle on a small collection of twigs, from which a white ball of fluff occasionally appeared from where it was hidden underneath its mother. We were told the bird returned every year to raise its young, usually two chicks but sometimes only one. Totally exposed to the world yet so well camouflaged and so still, this bird seems so representative of adaptation to our harsh dry continent.

A couple of years back I was at an agricultural show in Britain and I came across a side-show tent housing a dozen cages, each with a T-piece perch like in the old cocky cages. Each cage housed a live foreign owl. There were owls from Brazil, Siberia, Africa and other countries. The cage at the end of the line contained a Tawny Frogmouth. It was shocking enough seeing all of these caged owls but seeing one of our birds there got me very angry. I wanted desperately to pick up the cage, climb onto a plane and bring it home and let it go. What was it doing here between the traditional clog maker’s tent and the British Birds Conservancy Society tent? How did it get here? I moved away for a while then came back better composed and with a friendly smile asked the owl tent attendant if he had had much success breeding Tawny Frogmouths? He looked at me for a while then said, “No, we don’t breed our own owls, we buy ‘em.” Then I enquired as to how I might go about buying an owl. After a longer silence while staring at me suspiciously, he answered, “Dunno. You would have to ask the boss. E’s not ‘ere.” Then he moved away to ask a kid not to poke the Madagascar Owl (Asio madagascariensis) with his show-bag rule. Perhaps there are registered Tawny Frogmouth breeders in Britain with aviary bred birds for sale. Who knows? I’ll make inquiries.

As much a mystery was how the owl man made his money. He didn’t sell anything, not owls, not even T-shirts depicting owls of the world. Perhaps the show committee paid to have him there just as schools in Australia pay for a visit by a mobile farm or zoo.
Before we finish up our bird section we should mention that the two offspring from the pair of Wedge-tailed Eagles (Aquila audax) who nest regularly on Mt Tarrangower have now left the nest. They may well be soaring above your head right now, while you’re reading this. We wish them well.

One of life's little pleasures for the region’s families, particularly in the warmer weather, is to picnic at, and wander along the river at Hamilton’s Crossing. (At least, it used to be a pleasure but at the moment it is less so.) Hamilton’s Crossing is an unmarked bridge less than 20 km from Maldon on the Loddon River and just a few kilometers from Barringhup. It has many safe swimming holes and shade from big old River Red Gums. A tranquil spot and a haven for birds and other wildlife such as platypus.

A recent visit gave cause for concern. The drought mainly, but probably also higher water temperatures, have favoured the European Carp. And they are big! In every pool one can see the slow moving shadowy shapes and often their fins or tails protrude above the shallow muddy water. They have likely replaced any other fish species in the river and one can only hope that some solution is found to remove them and bring the river back to its former self.

Cats, Worms & Moles

2008-10-18T11:56:00.003+11:00

“Christ! We’ve killed the missus’s cat”, groaned my father looking across the field, past the silent frozen ponies with their steaming nostrils, to the far hedge. A black cat hangs stiff in the frost.

I’m eight years old and my father, in his post-war job, is second gardener and chauffeur for Lord and Lady Hunt which means we live in a cottage, one of three workers’ cottages on the Hunt estate. Twice a week we put out the snares and early the following morning, before work or school, we go out to collect our rabbits. Some days there are none but sometimes we’ll come home with three or four and my mother will give them to her girlfriends in the village.

The Hunts own a big foundry in the village where they manufacture and export agricultural equipment.

Fast forward nine years. I’m now a migrant kid and I’m with four Aussie lads and a small arsenal of weapons in the beetle-backed Vanguard heading to Lake Tyrrell, north of Sea Lake, to shoot ducks. The boys feel duty bound to teach me how to be an Australian and I’m a more than willing pupil. Adventure and new experiences were everything.

Someone told the ducks we were coming so we became rabbit and fox shooters instead. Mid-morning and the spread-out line of hunters get the signal to stand still. Noel lifts his rifle and takes aim at something. A shot and a shape leaps from the long grass close to a thicket of blackberries. Six or seven more shapes streak away into the thicket. “Cats!” mutters the lad along from me.

The hunting party strolls over to the body. “Nice shot”, said Paul. I move on over to the blackberries. Why are they growing here in the middle of nowhere? Rusting iron protrudes from the clump and I inspect it. A giant harrow lives here supporting the forest of blackberries, no doubt made redundant by new lighter and more modern equipment. On a wide cast iron cross bar at one end, I see raised lettering: Hunt Foundry, Earls Colne, Essex, England. Like me, it’s 12,000 miles from where it was made. I turn to face the others who are taking a break, lighting cigarettes, checking their guns, having a piss. Without thinking about it, I blurted out with a smile, “You’ve killed the missus’s cat”. Four sets of eyes stared at me. No sounds except for a low whistling of wind across the vast dry grass covered paddocks. No one understood. Then Noel looked at me with some amusement in his eyes, and said, “Stupid Pommie bastard”. Everyone laughed and we moved on.

Fast-forward fifty years. Maldon a couple of months back, before the first rains. I’m talking to a man around my age and originally from England about his new front garden in front of the renovated cottage he and his wife have restored.

“Aven’t seen a worm. Not one”, he said. “Where will I get worms then?” he continues.

Before I can fully comprehend his regional English accent, he goes on.

“The wife asked me why we don’t have moles”, and he laughs heartily. “I told her straight, if we don’t have worms then we don’t get moles”.

Suddenly, in my head and across the years, filed away in the box labelled 1957 came Noel’s voice. “Stupid Pommie bastard.” For one horrible moment I thought I’d actually said it out loud, but I hadn’t. Then I realized how Australian I was.

We love irony, but just sometimes, people from far away places manage to convince you that what they are saying is what they truly believe when in fact they are having you on. Trouble is of course, you can never be sure.

I smiled wanly and suggested a place where I had found worms. Take a bucket and garden fork to the large mulch-come-compost bays at the corner of the Castlemaine Botanical Gardens, next to the gate nearest the creek. If the leaf mulch has been there for a while and is damp, there is good chance of finding worms. Find just one, and you won’t be able to stop.

Footnote: 1. The European mole has long been regarded as a garden and farm pest although this is changing as the benefits of its aeration of the soil becomes appreciated. The small animal burrows across British and Europan lawns or gardens or sports fields or race tracks, usually at night, leaving ‘mole hills’, small heaps of earth, every two to four metres. The mole was once hunted for the fur trade. A mole skin coat required many moles skins and was regarded as a luxury item. 2. European moles do not exist in Australia but we do have an unrelated burrowing mole. Our Marsupial Mole lives almost entirely under ground in semi-arid, sand dune country.

Seeing is Believing

2008-08-21T12:02:00.025+10:00

‘Seeing is believing’, goes the saying, but sometimes things happen which makes you question that saying and when it does, you are temporarily (or permanently depending on what you are looking at) transported to a less certain frame of mind.

Last year, within a few days of one another, I was surprised to find unexpected creatures on the road.

The first, on Fogarty’s Gap road in Walmer, nonchalantly loping along, stopping occasionally to sniff the air, was a biscuit-and-white ferret. It quickly left the road on seeing me and did not reappear even with the super encouragement of my ‘Come and see what I’ve got for you,’ voice beside the bushes where it disappeared. It was a couple of kilometres from the nearest house. It got me wondering what happens to all those ferrets that go down rabbit burrows, make a kill and then go to sleep and never get recovered by their owners. So why do we not have a feral ferret population?

New Zealand has a couple of locations where ferrets have established self-replicating colonies and unfortunately feed on the chicks and eggs of the Royal Albatross. (Traps are now laid in and around the albatross breeding sites.) So perhaps we are just lucky that Freda and Fred Ferret haven’t found places like Walmer conducive to cohabitating and raising a family. (Or perhaps they just haven’t found each other yet?) Added to the twelve million feral cats in the country, feral ferrets would be yet another disaster for Australia’s smaller native creatures.

My next encounter of the feral kind happened on the road to Castlemaine just before the Moto-Cross circuit. A large grey-brown critter jumped out into the middle of the road and stopped. I stopped. We eyed each other for a moment, it then took off into the Maldon Forest Reserve. Mind racing, catalogue in the head double checking, ‘Sambar deer, India’ came the result, although the Sambar came here from Sri Lanka. Not sure why but perhaps it was for quarantine related reasons.

Weeks later, the first reports came of deer sightings on the road near the old ruins of the Gower school. But not Sambar deer. This time they were Fallow deer. Think Walt Disney’s Bambi for this one. NOTE: I've just been corrected by a reader. Bambi was a White Tailed deer fawn - not a Fallow deer. Thank you Brett Parker. Visit Brett's web entry on deer. A group of up to twenty animals make quite regular evening crossings We do not know why the deer cross the road as it is the same sort of country on both sides. My theory on this one is that they move around over quite a large area because that is what deer do. (By the way, just received the first report of a driver hitting one, apparently only lightly and without damage or injury. So drivers beware.)

Sightings - apart the road crossings - are to the west, close to dams on Mia Mia track and the corner of Bell’s Lane track; and to the east - around the Lewis Road - Muckleford Road area, and closer to Maldon, on a property in Boundary Road and including the old pig farm orchard. (A lone fallow deer is often sighted hanging out with a small mob of kangaroos on the lower slopes of Mt. Alexander in Harcourt.)

In trying to trace the origin of these deer, we need to think back to the time when they were farmed in anticipation of a growing and profitable market. For various reasons the market did not eventuate and around the country we hear of deer being let out or not recovered when they escaped. We know that quite a large number of Fallow deer escaped from a Walmer property around ten years ago. (A local reports that ‘crazy moron feral shooters climbed over the gate and had a go at them and for that reason they broke out and ran away’.) You would, wouldn’t you?

The Sambar deer may have come from a property close to Newstead where a freak storm went along a section of Mia Mia Road around six years ago, uprooting trees which fell on the deer fences setting the Sambar free.

There are lots of other stories and theories including the migration of deer up the river valley to Newstead from the forested areas around Daylesford and Hepburn and then into our forest reserves.

What does the presence of deer mean for our grey-box forest areas? Well, apart from the Bambi or ‘cute’ factor, the presence of deer is not good. Any introduced species takes food from native animals. They destroy native habitat and eventually change or destroy the bush itself as did the early miners goats helped denude Mt Tarrangower.

Fallow deer need regular access to pasture so that they will probably always stay in bush close to developed farmland. The Sambar (and the Rusa) deer is different. Of the six deer species now existing in Australia, it is the one most comfortable living in our forest reserves, even to the point of feeding on the young leaves of eucalypts and indigenous bush species as well as native grasses and other herbage. Access to pasture is not necessary for their survival.

So, now that your deer and ferret sightings won’t be so surprising, there are other things. The small family of emus occasionally seen on the back-roads to Castlemaine, (does anyone know if they have raised young while running free?) or the often talked about but not-seen-in-recent-times goats on Mt Tarrangower, and Koalas are scattered throughout our region though not easily discovered, and you will likely get a sore neck searching.

And what about the now locally rare, very big Goanna seen on a back road near Baringhup? And do we take seriously the Big Cat paw prints reported near a dam close to Bells Lane track? (Maybe that’s why the deer cross the road each night.) Hang on, lets not speculate. Sticking to what we see is enough for now.

So, if you do go down in the woods today, take your camera - and a friend, and leave the dog at home with a bone. You could be in for a big surprise.

Beware the Aliens

2008-07-11T14:14:00.023+10:00

Fox shit! How interesting is that? Why am I wandering around Mt Tarrangower and examining the faeces of Vulpes vulpes, the Red Fox? Well, it’s all part of understanding the distribution of the Wheel Cactus (Opuntia robusta), a difficult to eradicate, introduced species threatening our bushland and farms.

Mid-winter and there is still fruit on the Wheel Cactus. This impressive foreigner with its obvious round grey-green wheels, its bright yellow flowers and then the dark red fruit, is now firmly established on the mountain and many properties close by. Classified as a noxious weed, the cactus is proving difficult to control and for the most part this is due to a lack of manpower coupled with some landholder inertia.

Drive along any of the roads to the north west and west of Mt Tarrangower and you will see platoons of baby green discs reminiscent of cute little aliens from an episode of Doctor Who. In no time at all, each will have added another disc to itself, and then another and another and, while that is happening, each disc is quietly growing bigger. But how did this all happen?

We have no firm evidence about when the Wheel Cactus first arrived but there are many stories, from the succulent-collecting elderly lady living on Pigeon Hill, to the nice Italian market-gardening family who lived along Parkins Reef Road. (This family was also said to have grown at least one Stone Pine tree for pine nuts.) These stories date from around the 1930’s and 40’s but the plant may have arrived much earlier. Think how useful such a quick growing decorative and drought tolerant fruit-bearing plant would be in times when fresh fruit was only seasonally available and scarce, and when people were just settling around Maldon, building houses, cow, pig and poultry sheds, and establishing vegetable gardens and orchards.

So how do we get rid of Opuntia robusta? The recommended approach is to remove it while it is very young. The baby cactus can be pulled from the mostly granite soils quite easily. Importantly, the plants should be taken away to be destroyed, or put somewhere up off the ground. Like the little aliens they are, they will just re-establish themselves if left lying around. Bigger cactus require more desperate action and that involves injecting a chemical into each and every wheel on the plant. Miss one and it will topple from the injected wheels, grow roots, and become a new plant.

Our region does have its dedicated cactus warriors. Usually keen landowners, they have spent a lot of time doing practical research to better understand the problem.
We know that the cactus fruit is eaten by the common crow - the Australian Raven (Corvus coronoides), and the fox. Local research has shown that a crow can travel four kilometres before defecating, so that makes it the number one friend of Opuntia robusta. Those platoons of perky baby cactus scattered so evenly beneath a tree have been sown by a crow from high up in the tree.

Occasionally - and usually most often in the forest - you will see a big clump of older cactus with the plants pressed close together. Or you might see a tight circle of baby cactus. These will most likely have originated from the droppings of the Red Fox. Reynard eats cactus fruit and you will often find evidence of this when you check his scats. Bright orange or red and quite soft, almost runny, they are full of browny-yellow cactus seeds.
So why and how should we help combat the Wheel Cactus?

Watching a black wallaby desparately trying to navigate its escape up an incline infested with cactus, quickly tells us why we should fight the pest in our forested areas. Our native animals' living space is under attack. The cactus also takes land away from native trees and shrubs and ground cover plants.

On farm land and roadsides, if not controlled, the cactus will fruit and many of the seeds will be taken to forested areas by birds and foxes.

There are Landcare groups all around Maldon, each with its own active regional eradication program; and they welcome new members. You don’t need to be a rural property owner to join. Maldon, Baringhup and Nuggety have their groups and in association with Parks Victoria, have monthly cactus eradication days. They provide the back-packs and associated equipment. You just need to dress as though you were going bush-walking, oh yes, and take some work gloves. A sausage sizzle rounds off the day.

Well, I’m still here with the problem. Can’t leave this fox shit sitting here. Its full of aliens you know. Better get a doggy bag.

Babbling On

2008-07-08T10:12:00.007+10:00

The White-browed Babbler is one of only two local bird species that live a sociable life, that is, they live in family groups. The other larger and more common bird is the White-winged Chough.

Watching a flock of Babblers is a most entertaining experience but only readers living on properties on, or close to the edge of town, or outside the town and in or close to a eucalypt forest containing shrubby understorey, or rough land that is less timbered but with dense low cover, will get to enjoy them at home. Pomatostomus superciliosus measures around 20cm, just slightly bigger than our most common honeyeater the New Holland Honeyeater. It has a strong down-curved beak. Colouring is mostly brown with white throat, breast and eyebrows. It has a distinctive long fanned tail, black with white tips.

My favourite viewing areas are the parkland surrounding the South German dam, and that land which abuts the Castlemaine side of the Tarrangower Creek before it becomes Sandy Creek.

From below the South German and north up over the diggings area as far as the Bendigo road, you are will often get good views of the Babblers although Gorse, still evident in some parts of the park, can be a frustrating deterrent to the keen bird watcher.

The second area is worth a visit too, though it’s a little harder to get to. It contains unused farmland mixed with low cover and bordered by forest. I saw two families there in late June. Access is either via a track off to the left of the Maldon/Castlemaine road immediately before the Sandy Creek bridge; alternatively, follow Boundary Road to what seems to be the end, then instead of going through a private gate, walk through the rough low scrubby fifty metres of land immediately between the gate and the fence on your right-hand side. This will link you up with the track that once led to the Maldon abattoir and to the old farmland on the far side of the creek. This track is listed for upgrading.

If you go via the Sandy Creek track, be prepared to walk across or along the creek, some 200 metres in. Once you are there you will find yourself on old and not very useful pasture. One local farmer described it to me as “… as hungry land that never was much good ‘cept for whatever was there in the first place”. This is privately owned land so you might prefer to keep to the creek boundary or the edges of the forest.

It is worth mentioning here that this unused farmland has been purchased for housing development of around 40 houses, which is unfortunate for the Babbler and, in this writer’s opinion, for Maldon. Developing land outside a village is a very old fashioned idea in the modern world but for some reason Australia doesn’t seem to have caught up with the fact. With so much space it seems our only thought is to just keep expanding outwards rather than embracing ideas sympathetic to the quality of life. Throughout Britain and Europe, and more recently in parts of the US and Canada, planners now work hard to preserve human and ecological communities and require builders to work with existing house blocks and buildings within villages. In-fill might be the best term to describe it. When challenged, our developers love to label the challenger as a NIMBY, (Not In My Back Yard!) and anti progress. They seem unable to understand what the word progress really means.

But back to the Babblers. They are far more interesting.

Comical is how one can best describe the Babbler. That wonderful book, Wildlife of the Box-Ironbark Country (CSIRO Pubications 2005), says of these mainly ground foragers
“Moves with bouncing hops; comical and playful. Members of a group communicate with quiet chuckles.”

Babblers are usually tolerant of being followed quietly and at a reasonable distance.
Throughout the region, you can be confident of finding a family of Babblers and more rarely, their large unruly domed nest which the small community inhabits right through the year. If you live in the town, then you should try the new walking and cycling tracks that Parks Victoria have put in around the Maldon diggings - from the railway station up to the top of Anzac Hill, and which includes the South German dam. Treat yourself to a Babbler hunt while enjoying all the other birdlife. Oh, and don’t forget the binoculars.

A grey morning

2008-07-08T09:59:00.010+10:00

A sudden whoosh and a gentle wind just above my head and the familiar clackety clack of a Red Wattle Bird rings through the cold early morning air from high up in the big tree at the corner of Frances and Dolphin Streets. But that is not the sound that grabs my attention. A grinding, gravelly, whirring bird song on a low branch and only metres away demands an audience.

Oblivious to the sweeping attacks of the aggressive Wattle Bird and to the bleak grey winter sky, a Restless Flycatcher goes about it’s business catching insects both in the air and from the cracks in the tree bark. Black above and pure white below, and with a feathered top-knot or crown that is both regal and expressive, the bird is never still and rarely silent. It hovers and darts and even drops to the ground. How self-contained it seems. One can imagine it saying to itself “I think I’ll just pop into Maldon for breakfast this morning before it gets too busy.”

How wonderful it is to see some of our less common native birds in the town and in our gardens. Planting flowering Australian shrubs, and if possible, trees like our indigenous Grey Box or Yellow Gum or a flowering Ironbark, provides the food and the incentive for their visits. The exotic Eastern Spinebills who visit our small garden regularly in autumn and winter, only come to feed on the tubular flowers of the Correas in the pots beside the glass doors of the dining area, and in spring, the bottle-brush over near the shed.

We do not have many significant songbirds in our region. Most common would be the Grey Shrike-thrush with its musical song. This bird might visit you as it moves between bush-land and the larger gardens with native trees and with leaf-litter where it forages before flying onto the lower tree branches to sing.

But there is a bird, which once seen and heard, will never be forgotten. It most often visits in autumn and winter. We were lucky enough to have one visit our garden a couple of years ago and which stayed around for almost a week. The Golden Whistler is beautiful to look at and to listen to. You will seldom see the bird up close, as it tends to feed high up in the canopy of taller trees. The song is loud and clear and very beautiful, but, as happened to me, I could hear the Whistler clearly as though it was very close, but it took quite a long time to locate it much higher up in the tree than I first thought.

Our birds are always interesting. They are constantly on the move in search of food, be it nectar for the honey-eaters, or insects for the smaller birds, Wrens, Robins, Pardalotes, Thornbills and others. Sometimes you won’t know they are there until you walk out into the garden.

Try keeping a pair of binoculars close to the back door or the kitchen window. On a cold winter's day in Maldon, it’s well worth it.