Bush Tucker

Lord knows we have enough wildlife here that we need never eat meat from the butcher or supermarket again.  I don’t know why it’s taken us so long to sample Bush Tucker.

Last year we shot a goanna – a big one- that saw us as a food source and made the daily trek into the chook house for his eggs.  As Ben collects the eggs and a confrontation between the two of them was going to end in tears and skin tears, he obviously had to go.  It was the first time I saw my husband with his gun . . . he looked so comfortable with it, so at home with it, sure steady . . . safe.  He’s a good shot, my man, more reason to love him so.

That goanna made a run and swim for it and Ged got him as he clambered out of the river on a rock.  Wwoofer Carl and I rowed over to get him but wimped out of hauling him out and cooking him.  This year Ged and the Wwoofers had no such qualms, Ged shot a goanna out of the Jacaranda tree and  it went straight on the new barbie in its skin and there was much excitement at the prospect of Bush Tucker for supper.

Apparently they are a protected species.  God knows why there are plenty of them around here.  We have a simple rule at Avalon, all the wildlife are safe from us as long as they don’t interfere with our lives and business.  If they stay away they are safe.  We are not the sort of people to shoot a snake on sight.  But a goanna stealing my eggs, scaring my baby chicks, wrestling with Josephine in her nesting box, eating the baby ducklings – yup, that has to go!

When last year’s goanna ate Josephine’s baby I literally felt that biblical ‘an eye for an eye’ feeling.  A rage that only the justice of a death for a death would appease.  My duckling was gone, my duck was suffering, tears were shed by adults and child alike and vengeance was mine.  I did feel regret for the goanna’s wasted death (but only because we didn’t eat it!) but once he was killed my rage at our loss was gone.

Law abiding city folk will be shocked at our lawlessness.  But the law of the jungle, the law of the land, Bush Law is different.  We are wilder because we know nature, we see life and death in every day, we know the cycles and the rhythms of the seasons.  We respect life, we cherish it, and to me it is better to shoot a goanna for stealing and eat it, than it is to buy nameless meat at Coles or Woolworths with no thought to where it came from, how it lived, how it died.

These are far from the killing fields as I don’t like blood shed at Avalon, but if my boys are to eat meat I would rather they knew its name.

Our first Koala

Our First Koala

We have to make a new enclosure for the Alpacas with a shelter so they can get out of the weather, so Ged has been up in the bush with Nathan, who is the fiance of Shannon who helps with Ben and Ben adores!  Shannon volunteers at the Koala Hospital and has worked in bush regeneration for years in Sydney so she is our resident expert on all things native.  When I found scat and scratches on trees a few months ago, she checked them out and confirmed they were koala marks and droppings.  I have since examined every tree I come across and according to the markings we are over-run with Koalas!  As I spend my life looking down at the ground checking out the grasses and weeds, and where to put my feet in case of snakes, I haven’t seen any . . . so I have been training myself to look up all the time but haven’t seen anything bear shaped.

But when the boys were up in the bush cutting down tallow woods and I had gone up to report another tractor fault (oh no, Mummy broke the tractor AGAIN!) Nathan spotted a koala watching in horror as they chopped down another major food tree.  The poor thing lost 6 trees from its home range that afternoon and now I have made Ged promise not to cut down any more tallow-woods, they are sacred trees at Avalon from this moment on . . .

Anyway, he was beautiful.  Not old and very healthy and just stunning to see one on our own property.  Incredibly exciting.  I had a koala as a small child (probably made of roo or wallaby  skin in those days) which I wore all the fur off with my loving.  I was as excited as any child to see this one (if only he would come down for a pat and a cuddle!)  Ben was nonplussed as he sees them at Billabong Koala Park all the time!
And it just goes to show the power of positive thinking and what you focus on comes to you . . . for 3 years I haven’t even thought about koalas but for the last three months I have been thinking about them, looking for them, calling to them in my mind . . . and now one answered that call!  thank you, Mr Koala . . .  here he is  . . .

Close Encounter of the Platypus kind!

I had an eyeball to eyeball encounter with a platypus last night – went down to the river on my run on the other side to look at the receding flood waters and the new waterfall gushing into the river, and as I approached the shore I saw a weed wobbling in the water and thought ‘what’s that’.  Got to the very edge and looked down and one second later Mr Platypus surfaced right at my feet, staring up at me (he must have been nibbling on the weed stem.  We looked at each other in complete astonishment for a long few second and then he duck dived – but he kept feeding right along the shoreline so I got up close and personal – wonderful!  They are not very big and a lot of it is tail and they seem to have very white eyes with a black pupil.

Wild Dogs and Wedge Tailed Eagles

Happy New Year!
Here on the farm without radio, television or newspapers the days blur into one another like the endless summer days of childhood, and we didn’t even realise that it was New Year’s Eve til mid-afternoon.  Not that it made much difference, we had decided not to go to the annual bash at Steve and Cherie’s with Benjamin in tow – too loud, too much booze, too tired, too happy just pottering on the farm . . . We had a bottle of Bolly in the fridge but didn’t open it – couldn’t be bothered, didn’t feel like drinking, I’m sure another opportunity for celebration will present itself . . . .
Australia very much grinds to a halt at this time of year – everyone is on holiday and businesses are closed for weeks so it really is time to slow down, relax and enjoy hearth, home and family.  It is so quiet here, although for some reason (maybe all the slashing both we and the neighbour are doing) we have recently become home to hordes of sulphur crested cockatoos, who are gorgeous in their flock but make a helluva racket with their cawing.
We had a dead wallaby on the other side so the wedgetailed eagle was in residence for about four days before Ged built a funeral pyre and cremated the wallaby’s remains before it got too potent . . . because we have had such a good extended spring and there is so much feed, there are an incredible number of wallabies (did you know that wallabies breed more in a good season?) and so there are also more wild or feral dogs.  Phee and I had a terrible scare on a run/walk the other day – as usual he was ahead of me and out of sight, and suddenly I heard him yelping and screamed his name and started running.  As I ran, first a wild small brown dog appeared to the right of a big clump of timber debris, then on the left appeared a dingo X.  The face, ears and colouring of a dingo, just smaller, and stockier than a purebred.  My heart stood still as I screamed Phoenix’s name again and again.  Thankfully he appeared, tail between his legs but unhurt as far as I can see.  Terrifying.  And he is so lucky.  Most wild dogs would have torn him apart , I don’t know how he survived (he must have nine lives!).  Needless to say he has been sticking close to his Mummy on our forays over on ‘the other side’ (we have to think of a name for each side of the property, clearly! – suggestions on a post card, please).  I don’t want to get the wild dog shooters onto Avalon if we can help it (normally the neighbours do so that keeps the population under control) but they seem to have become more adventurous and visible this year with the proliferation of wallabies on the pasture.
We often see the ‘wedgies’ free wheeling overhead – they are stunning birds.  And the one who ate the wallaby is often to be found in an old dead gum on ‘the other side’ at dusk when Phee and I go for our walk.  I always have him ‘heel’ when wedgie is around as I imagine the eagle looking at Phee and thinking ‘dinner’!  We also have a sea eagle who patrols both sides of the property – about the same size, just completely different colouring.  And I have recently discovered that not only do we have yellow tailed black cockatoos on the farm, but also red-tailed – gorgeous!

Wedge-tailed Eagle (Aquila audax)

The Wedge-tailed Eagle is a beautiful Australian eagle, and is also one of the largest eagles in the World. They are large creatures weighing an average of 4 kgs, with an average wing span of 2.5 metres. They are a dark brown/black feathered bird, however the young eagles are a lighter brown colour.

The Roaring River and Whales

We’ve been marooned again!

My neighbour, local weather guru, and early warning system, Pat Henry, rang at the weekend to warn of us of a major rain belt heading south from Tropical Queensland so we were on the alert (Pat is spot on with her predictions!).  So when I did my 3am wee on Monday night and it was raining I poked my better half awake to remind him that he had his car this side and not to blame me if he was flood bound in the morning.  He wasn’t, but by the end of that day after relentless rain all day, it was obvious that the river was on the up.  I left my car in Wauchope because it didn’t feel safe aquaplaning on my barely there tyres and got a lift home with George and we just made it in across the creeks.  Needless to say, Ged left his car out on Tuesday night and we woke to the roaring of the river on Wednesday morning – 12 feet below the last one but still a very sizeable flood.  So we played ‘marooned’ all day, cutting a swathe through our respective paperwork in the office and when it came time to feed Ged’s horses on ‘the other side’ the pregnant lady set off, with faithful hound at heel, to walk with two full feed buckets the 2.5kms to find the horses.   Went for a brisk trot around the track (pregnant lady on foot!) and then walked back with four empty feed buckets.  Long, long way!!
It was Ged’s birthday on Thursday so I gave him the day off work (!!) and booked us on a Whale Watching Tour  at 8am out of Port Macquarie, so we had an early start.  There was lots of hanging around scanning the sea for signs of life, and several sightings of pods blowing and breaching, but still not close enough for a real sense of the magnificence of the beasts, so I adopted my positive thinking and stood at the bow thinking ‘I see whales close to the boat’ for well over an hour.  Sure enough, just as we were about to turn for shore, we had a ‘close encounter’ with 3 humpback whales right under our noses at the bow and I had my first real whale sighting.  Wow!  Imagine if we had all been practising positive thinking . . . .
Ged has had amazing up close and personal whale experiences at Hervey Bay so he wasn’t as excited as me, but we had a lovely day with a warm-up breakfast in Port and then lots of clothes shopping to update his wardrobe (and a few things for me, too, since nothing seems to fit me anymore!)  On Friday I was able to pick up my car with its all new wheels (lovely!) and drive across the bridge again so we have spent the weekend in the garden planting bluebells and snowdrops, drastically pruning the roses over the septic, and relocating trees (again!)
We have had the list of suitable species from the Catchment Management Authority and have a visual plan of what to plant along the river banks to protect the banks and create a haven for birds and even koalas – it turns out that those bloody She Oaks (Casuarinas) are not even meant to be in this part of the Hastings valley Catchment Area – so we are completely justified in our plan to chop them down!  It’s very nice when our vision actually coincides with that of the Government and the Greenies (Melissa will be proud of us!)
Still waiting for Paddy to pop  . . . !

New chooks and a python

Despite all our running around at the weekend, and George’s near naked efforts in the steamy days we have been sweltering through, the chook run wasn’t ready by the time the girls came on Monday.  We had to convert one of the old tin toilet blocks into the temporary hen house and although it isn’t the salubrious 5 star accommodation I had planned for them, they seemed more nervous and unsettled than any hens I had ever had before.  They hid in the scrub on the first day while George and I stretched the wire around and then as the rain fell consistently all week, they seemed to feel safest in their budget backpacker accommodation.  They seemed reluctant to explore or wander which I found very strange.  On Sunday we worked out why!  Ged tracked me down inside having a brief respite from the heat ‘do  you want to see a python?’, so we grabbed the camera and he led the way into the chicken run where Fred was fully extended (1.5 metres) and on track for feathered friend for tea.  Ged trapped him by the head so he could pick him up (CRIKEY!!) and we agreed to put him in the big shed to eat all the ratties and mice.
As soon as we moved the snake, the chooks relaxed.  he had obviously been up in a tree watching their every move and that’s why they were so nervous and shy.  They love to go under the house and so we hear them clucking under there during the day.
We had a busy weekend – Ged replaced the Flying Fox platform with left over tallowood so it feels rock solid and looks lovely and I was weeding, planting and digging again.  I’ve also scrubbed down the outside boards of three sides of the house ready for painting.  The weather has been either blazing sun or steamy, sultry and jungly and the rain is never far away.  The river is up and down like a yo yo so we are still flying across most of the time and even I can pull myself all the way across both ways now.
Fred obviously didn’t like living  in the garage.  When we got up on Monday morning his tail was poking out of one of the powerpoint holes in the kitchen.  His head soon followed.  Ged tried to force him out by dragging but I screamed at him to stop because he was damaging the fragile scales on Fred’s back.  So we left him to fend for himself, took Phee flying over the river with us and up to the office.  When we got home I was gingerly opening doors and cupboards, on the lookout for Fred . . . when Ged came in from locking up the chooks I indicated a strange looking stain  on the floor and he investigated . . . and found Fred snoozing happily in his sock basket!  A bit too close to my bed for comfort so Ged grabbed him again and Fred wrapped his whole length around his wrist and hand and we raced to the car and then I floored it down to Angle Creek while Ged had his circulation crushed.  Ged peeled him off and released him in the grass, but Fred had obviously taken a fancy to us and headed straight back to us so we leapt in the car before he slithered into its workings and came home again!  What would I have done without Ged???  Ugh . . . it doesn’t bear thinking about . . . Fred in my bed with me and Phee . . . !!

Ged and Fred

saga pin up boy!

Sugarglider

Phee found me a lovely treat on Monday.  We were on our run and when we got to the new Acer at The Triangle on The Other Side (I need to send maps, don’t I?) he hunkered down, intrigued by something.  I called him off, thinking it was a lizard or frog or something, but it was the most beautiful little furry angel.  Huge eyes, big, boney paws, tiny ears and sort of wings.  I thought it was a baby possum.  I was going to walk back home over the ridge with him (Mum was nowhere to be seen or smelt) when he found his own safe harbor.  He crawled up the sleeve of my long-sleeved tee and made a nest in the crook of my arm.  And there he stayed for the duration of our run!
When we got home I showed him to George who was entranced, but no closer than me to identifying him.  I put him in a box with grass and water while I performed my ablutions and then popped him back up my shirt for the winding trip up to the office.  By this time he had a name – ‘Chi Chi’ and he did quite a lot of wriggling on the jpourney, trying to find the best spot.  At one point I thought I’d lost him forever and had to stop and hunt – he was resting in the padded hammock of bra between my breasts!!  When we got to work, Ged identified him as a SUGARGLIDER and we Googled the sugarglider diet so we could take care of him, and introduced him to members of the local Comboyne community when he came to the shop with me.  As sugargliders sleep during the day, he was exhausted and preferred sleeping skin to skin with me.  When we finally went home it was dark so Chi Chi was wide awake and slipped out of my shirt and into the car.  Phee didn’t seem to care.  And when we got home I went hunting through the Pajero til his rustling in the back gave him away.  Man, they are fast!  So I decided to leave him out  of his box and in the spare room during the night so he could run and climb and fly while we slept.  Big mistake.  When we woke in the morning he was gone, I know not where.  But I have my suspicions about Phee who wouldn’t meet my eye when I was grilling him.  I had blocked up the gap under the door but maybe not well enough, or perhaps Phee spent the night creating a gap.  I guess he found him . . . but we are very sad.  He was just GORGEOUS.  Bye Bye Chi Chi.
The horses are returning to normal but we have taken hair from both of mine and Gypsy for testing by my Horse Herbalist to try and get to the bottom of the antipathy between them and we have found egg fragments in the Plover nest but so far no sign of the babies.  Mum & Dad are pretty busy defending something, though!  Every time the horses are on the river flat (normally at night) the plovers are screeching their warnings and by day they dive bomb any of us brave enough to go looking for the young.
I have been amazed by the prehistoric cicada shells decorating the trees and fence posts (and pretty much anything else that stays stationary for more than five minutes).  The shells split down the back to release the fully grown cicada and the shell remains gripping the upright – bizarre.  And if you have never been deafened by cicadas before, you are missing one of life’s most extraordinary experiences.  The high pitched buzzing screaming of a million cicadas ‘singing’ their strange and primal songs drills into your brain and swells inside your skull until madness feels moments away.  The relief when you move out of earshot is exquisite!
I have been cutting and pasting photos and being a one man band production line to get all the invites out this week so I can cross that off my pre-wedding list and get on with the next thing.  We went and interviewed two celebrants and now I can’t decide between the two . . . too many decisions to make!
Mummy very kindly paid for a Fowl House for us for Christmas.  I had spent hours on the internet trying to track down a good wooden house for my new girls and thought I’d found one and paid $250 for a removalist to bring it down from Brisbane.  It turned out to be cheap, shoddy and made of softwood which would last approximately three and a half minutes with the white ants at Avalon.  So I am embroiled in a battle to get a full refund.  Poor fools, they don’t realise that I always win in the end!