Caught these Spinifex Pigeons looking typically dapper by a clump of spinifex grass yesterday as it got dark. Usually these guys fly off in a whirr before you get close, but I guess these ones thought they were camouflaged. Nice!
At least, until today. My left knee has swollen to twice its normal size! I showed it to Steve, who told me a story of a lady who needed a skin graft after getting bit by some virulent beetle around here. That wasn’t too encouraging, so I typed “australian black beetle with orange antennae” into Google Images. Amazing what you can find out these days – turned out to be something called a Spider Wasp, which attacks spiders larger than itself (but not, apparently, a bug that kills people). Just a regular old wasp bite. Anyway, it’s itchy!
Predictions are for clearing later in the day, but, meanwhile, it’s kinda nice to have some cooler temperatures around here. The rain sorta reminds me of home…
We found some fairy-wrens, but particularly exciting were two Black-headed Pythons, one in the morning and one in the evening, at different places along the dirt road. Both snakes were about two meters long – longer than me – bigger than any I’ve seen yet in Australia.
Black-headed Pythons are non-venomous, but still have fangs, and might bite, and, who knows, might strangle you, so we were pretty careful. But it’s hard to resist the urge to pick up anything slithery (especially for Joey), so voila: photo op. This particular python had a lot of scratches on its skin, and a large number of ticks (who knew snakes get ticks?), so maybe it’s due for a shed. In any case, an awesome piece of wildlife.
These bats, called Black Fruit Bats, hang around during the day in communal roosts before flying around after dark. I stumbled across one roost of about 200 bats the other day in a pandanus clump – full of weird sounds, like cackling, and a smell like ammonia. Each one is almost two feet tall. Definitely the biggest bats I’ve ever seen.
They’d be creepy if they weren’t kinda cute in a way. With that fuzzy face and round, curious eyes, I’d almost want to pet one. Except it would probably bite me and give me rabies – or something more exotic, since rabies apparently doesn’t exist in Australia (true story). Wonder if I could train one to hang from my shoulder, like a reverse parrot.
Which is good because Michelle, Joey and I are headed out for a 3-day survey of a distant section of the Adcock River this weekend, and we’re planning on sleeping out (no tents). Should be excellent.
Even though it’s winter, a few Purple-crowned Fairy-Wrens are nesting, and we’ve found several nests in the last couple weeks. They probably got into gear after the extended rainy weather in late May, which really greened up the landscape. Nice to see green spinifex against red termite mounds – perfect contrast.
Turned out that about 70% of the moon was obscured by Earth’s shadow as we prepared to launch our canoes. It sorta defeated the purpose of doing a full-moon paddle (not much light), but whatever, it was awesome. This particular eclipse was near-total in central and eastern Australia (and not even visible in the U.S.). At one point, I thought I saw my own shadow outlined on the moon’s surface, but it might have been wishful thinking…
Apparently Kelly’s real celebrity stuff in Australia, one of the country’s greatest singers and songwriters, known especially for some rock-ish songs in the 80s. He’s a household name down undah. Anyway, he’s here, at Mornington. Michelle, Joey and I watched the back of his head as he ate his 4-star dinner last evening, sitting next to some blonde at the restaurant. Sophie, on the hospitality staff, said she cleaned his room, er, safari tent, and reported Kelly did have a guitar. But, alas, the singer was brooding and antisocial, slipping off quietly after dinner without so much as a nod, probably psyching himself up for his concert in Broome this coming Saturday – unlike Xavier Rudd, who sang songs for us around the pizza oven when he visited a couple months ago. Celebrities are an odd bunch, especially when they show up unexpectedly in the middle of the desert…
Last time we tried this, we got up at 4:30am, set up the nets, spent six hours staring at them, and went home without having caught anything. But today it worked perfectly! Must have been time for some good mistnetting mojo around here, because both target birds flew straight into the mesh. As a bit of a bonus, we also caught four Yellow-tinted Honeyeaters, a Restless Flycatcher, and a Double-barred Finch – always fun to get some bycatch!
Winter has set in across northern Australia, and the weather couldn’t be better. Every single day is sunny, not a cloud in the sky, highs in the upper 90s F (35 C), lows in the 40s (9 C). June and July are the best months here. It’s high season at Mornington.
All of which has negligible effect on life at Mornington Station. The fairy-wrens have mostly lost breeding colors, so males are gray instead of purple. I saw another life bird this morning – a Horsfield’s Bronze-Cuck00 – which makes two in two days!
A Baza is a small hawk with a crest. These ones were hunting in the outer foliage of paperbark trees, flapping ridiculously as they tried to grab prey with their feet. Definitely the highlight of my morning afield.
Most of those things are hard to find during the day, though, so I’ve been happy to see the same Barking Owl twice this week during fairy-wren surveys along the north end of Annie Creek. It probably wasn’t quite as happy to see me, since I flushed it from its nap, but there you have it. Even got a photo to prove it.
I have now managed to see almost all the nocturnal birds around here on day roosts. Spend enough time outside, and you’ll flush them from hiding: Spotted Nightjar, Australian Owlet-Nightjar, Tawny Frogmouth, Southern Boobook, and Barking Owl. The only night bird I haven’t yet seen in daylight is the stone-curlew; they must hide exceedingly well, since they’re common enough on the roads after dark.
We don’t worry too much about the freshies (they keep to themselves, except when they occasionally bite people). There’s a perfect swimming hole about 9 kilometers from Mornington Station, called Blue Bush (no idea why), which makes a nice afternoon getaway. A few of us went down there this weekend to float around in inflated truck tires and stare cautiously at some tourists. Rainbow Bee-Eaters and Agile Wallabies flitted and hopped, respectively, until the sun set around 5pm. Solstice has hit – the days are getting longer now!
The frog didn’t mind a bit of wildlife paparazzi, and even smiled a bit for the photo op. It was big enough to cover the entire palm of my hand, with floppy padded feet sprawling over the sides of my wrist. James said it was a Magnificent Tree Frog (but the latin name is something to do with “splendid”). Anyway it seemed magnificent enough, pretty much the coolest frog ever, actually. I’m just glad Jess wasn’t there – the only person on station with an aversion to hoppy wet things. Don’t know how she survives with all the wriggly things in our outdoor toilets.
“Hey, we’re leaving for Mount Leake in 20 minutes,” she said. “Want to come?”
Well, sure. Instead of a nice shower and smoothie (my typical after-morning routine), I corralled together some water, food, sleeping bag, pad, and a few other necessities, threw them in a backpack, and jumped into James’ truck along with Bernie, Katherine, Claire, and Martha for the 2-day excursion. James drove us 40 minutes to the end of a 2-wheel track, dropped us, waved goodbye, and we spent the afternoon climbing Mornington’s highest prominence.
It was my second time up there this season, and, since none of the other four had been there before, I could point out the route. Watching sunset from the sandstone rocks, sleeping out under the stars, watching sunrise from my sleeping bag, snuggling down against a cold wind all night – yeah, it was pretty nice. But I was most proud of lighting a small fire with only grass and sticks – and just 2 matches – in the stiff wind. Say what you want, harnessing fire makes us human. In fact, it makes us men, full of hair and testosterone. Everyone, at heart, wants to be an annoying cub scout… (I tried singing Kumbaya, but it didn’t go down too well.)
And, yes, I’m still alive out here. Recent trouble with nonfunctional internet, nonfunctional camera, and nonfunctional Photoshop. Hope to get it all functional again soon…
For Sara’s last day (today), four of us were treated to an incredible breakfast.
At 5 a.m. Butch, Swanie, Sara and I climbed into Butch’s tiny helicopter (flying with all the doors off) and rode in pre-dawn darkness to a secret overlook on a remote sandstone escarpment, where a dry waterfall cascaded hundreds of feet to a palm-covered valley, accessible only by chopper. As the sun exploded over the horizon, we were admiring the view, just finishing a bottle of champagne (three flutes each – tipsy by 6 a.m.!), and Swanie already had a good fire going for breakfast.
While it burned down to ashes, and a fresh morning breeze kept us cool, he pulled out all the stops, as if we were VIP donors: fresh pancakes, eggs, toast, coffee, and ginger tea – and we sat perched atop the cliff face, talking over the season and just feeling the best part of life, lost in an immense and empty landscape. The depth of relaxation, intensity of being – it defies description. Especially with good friends – something no tourist experience could ever capture! After a couple magic hours, we loaded back into the chopper and meandered back to the station in time for another day of field work. Just a quick morning breakfast flight!
After a couple hours of pushing my way through a nearly impenetrable tangle of freshwater mangroves, I arrived at territory 219 – where all the action happened. I found the pair of fairy-wrens there, but they quickly skulked away into a wall of spiky pandanus along the water’s edge. When I tried to follow, the whole place exploded – with enormous bats!
Hundreds of Black Fruit Bats were roosting right where the fairy-wrens had disappeared. Each bat, with a face like a fox (hence the nickname “flying foxes”), was furry, jet-black, with a three-foot wingspan, and cranky. Every time I took a step, the bats screamed, flapped noisily, picked fights with each other, growled, cackled, and brought all kinds of debris to the ground. They smelled rank, with an acrid, musty, ammonia flavor, overwhelming the senses, and, as I crawled through the jungle-like vegetation, bats were on every quarter, some within several feet, all hanging upside down from branches, clinging with their feet and wing-claws, each the size of a small cat, black as night, pressing closer and closer, staring, jostling.
Half an hour later, I was a little way upriver when a very large bird came gliding around the corner – a White-bellied Sea-Eagle, the first I’ve seen at Mornington. In its talons was a Black Fruit Bat! The eagle was pursued by three smaller Whistling Kites, vying for position, hoping for a handout, but seemed nonplussed by the extra attention as it flapped powerfully above the water, disappearing silently around the bend. So much for that particular fruit bat.
Anyway things are going good at Mornington Station. I was out for an evening run day before yesterday and, while hurtling down the dirt track, heard a slithering noise just behind me. Looked over my shoulder just in time to see a very angry, meter-long Mulga snake zipping toward the grass, head raised in agitation – I’d missed stomping its tail by mere inches. That’s the one that, if it bites you, gives you about five hours to live – and I was miles from the station. Got the adrenaline going a bit! Tegan very nearly stepped on one yesterday while wearing flip flops, so I’m not the only one taunting snakes around here.
A group of 60 tourists with a charity group called the Variety Club arrived yesterday to be wined, dined, and accommodated in safari tents. It’s a lot to put up with for the hospitality staff (all hands on deck kind of thing), but the group’s total bill for one night’s stay was $11,000 – a nice big check for the Wildlife Conservancy! (Not to mention the $2,000+ the group apparently spent at the bar alone, or the additional $12,000 shelled out at a charity auction after dinner.) Meanwhile, tourists are wandering around Mornington Station like zombies on patrol as we head into peak season here. Interesting to have a bit of extra company during my field work.
We’ve been locked in a weird weather system at Mornington – haven’t seen the sun in more than five days! Heavy clouds have been sitting over us, dumping rain and humidity.
Me, I’m ready for the dry weather to return. My tent is wet, my mattress is wet, my blankets are wet, my sleeping bag is wet, my clothes are hanging soaking on the line. It’s still reaching almost 90 F during the day, giving us a sticky, damp existence. Sweat doesn’t evaporate. Humidity varies between 80 and 98 percent. The power went out because solar panels aren’t operating, and the showers are ice-cold without solar heaters. The roads are closed and some people have been trapped here for almost a week. This is very unusual weather for May – which averages just .3 in of rain. So far, we’ve had more than ten times that in the last few days – and more in the forecast!
We also have Euros, sometimes called Wallaroos (a cross between a kangaroo and a wallaby?), and Rock Wallabies with long tails which hop around cliff faces like springy mountain goats.
The trouble with all these big marsupials is they’re so shy. Aside from grazing on the watered, mowed grass near the restaurant, wallabies generally hop away in a furry blur before you can get a bead on them. So I was happy this morning to catch a pair of Agile Wallabies in a pensive mood, at least long enough to get a quick photo. After some keen looks of suspicion and curiosity, they bounded away to join their mates in greener pastures.
“What are you seeing?” I asked, wondering where he came from.
“Ah, some bird, looked like a kingfisher,” he said. “Here, take a look.” He showed me a photo displayed on the back of his digital camera.
“Nice – it’s a pair of Rainbow Bee-Eaters,” I said (close enough). “Where are you from?”
Turned out he was from New Zealand (shoulda guessed, green shirt), on a 3-week holiday with his wife, had driven half of Australia already, was camping in an RV, and was headed for a day at Dimond Gorge. His name was Warren. We got talking about New Zealand, since I’d been there last year, and I mentioned I’d climbed a prominence called Avalanche Peak at Arthur’s Pass, inland of Christchurch.
“Yeah, I climbed that once,” he said. “When I was six years old, my dad took me up there. Mind you,” (he scratched his head) “that was sixty years ago.”
With that, Warren disappeared into the vegetation, making his way back to the river crossing. The tourist season here has officially begun – Mornington Station boasts a 4-star restaurant (regular entrees are $49!), safari tents ($300/night!), campground, tours, etc. It’s an expensive place to vacation; punters get charged for everything (just to drive down the driveway commands a $25 “road fee”) but at least people can experience this place without actually working here. Me, I’m happy to get paid (however little) to live in such a place – so much better than being a tourist!
It’s nice to have a break from the heat. Afternoons are barely reaching 37 C now (100 F), quite enjoyable compared to constant 42 C (108 F) of a couple months ago. Funny how relative things are.
Yesterday (Sunday) I went for a bit of a wander from camp, trying to find a set of wetlands to see what birds might be around. The wetlands were almost dried up and I ended up walking 27 kilometers (17 miles) in transit. However, I did see two new birds: Fairy Martin and Gray-fronted Honeyeater – so the hike was well worth it! After more than two months here, it’s getting tough for me to find new birds…
But what a tent! I’m used to lightweight, backpacking-style tents, but when Michelle mentioned some kind of montrosity wedged in the rafters of the storage area, I was curious. Turned out to be an enormous car-camping tent. Perfect! Its floor is 4 x 3.2 meters (13.1 x 10.5 feet) and the entire space has a ceiling so high I can stand, stretch my arms over my head, and still not touch the roof. Every wall has a foldable flap, exposing mesh all the way around. The tent even has front and back entrances – seriously, it’s a castle!
I moved in a full-size bed, with frame and mattress, which fits in one corner. On the other side, I arranged two shelving units and a chair, leaving plenty of space to walk around in between. During the day, I can sit in the chair and look at birds (including a resident pair of fairy-wrens) from within my mosquito-proof home. At night, I fall asleep to the thumping of wallabies and distant choruses of howling dingoes. And now it’s getting down to 18 C (65 F) in the wee hours, it’s not too hot to sleep without a fan. I’m glad to call this place home.
First, it’s Michelle’s birthday today – I won’t say her age, but it’s a nice round number halfway between 10 and 70… and an excuse for a party! All of Mornington’s staff turned out for a celebratory potluck, with cake (adorned with sparklers) and an amazing amount of food. Michelle was taken for a birthday helicopter ride this morning for breakfast at a scenic pool beyond Spider Gorge, but her biggest present (to herself) is a 5-week trip to Peru, starting in two days. She deserves it for being a great fairy-wren boss!
Second, today is Cinco de Mayo, that awesome Mexican holiday. I tried to instill some latin excitement by announcing at the table, “It’s Cinco de Mayo!” but was greeted by a host of blank stares. Guess they don’t celebrate that one in Australia – I spent the next five minutes explaining what people do on Cinco de Mayo (drink margaritas and Corona, wear big sombreros, eat Mexican food), but it was no use on these Aussies. They didn’t really get it.
Finally, today I have been at Mornington for exactly two months (I arrived on March 5). I don’t know where the time has gone – flown away on a sizzling sun. Good thing I still have a while to go, because I’ve only begun to explore this place! May the next three months bring as much adventure as the last two.
Not that the weather gives any indication of it. We’re now firmly into The Dry, with blue skies and cooler temps through the northern Australian winter. Two months ago, it was about 42 C (108 F) every afternoon; now it’s only reaching 38 C (101 F). Downright cold! Mornings have been around 18 C (65 F), almost chilly.
After about the driest wet season on record, we’re also getting deeper into a major drought. The Annie Creek road crossing, normally underwater, dried up this week, which is unheard of this time of year. Normally it flows year-round, and, in dry years, it’s been known to go dry in October, but we’re only just getting into the dry months. Even the mighty Adcock River (a tributary to the Fitzroy, which, at its highest flood stage, has the 3rd highest output of any river in the world) is down to a trickle small enough to step across without getting your feet wet. What does it all mean? Only time will tell.