Rubbish and goldfields

If there is one thing that I really hate it is people dumping their rubbish in the forest. Unfortunately, it seems to happen all too often.

A mattress dumped and lying beside the fire trail in the forest or a whole trailer load of junk up-ended in the beautiful bush. Bits of plastic and paper and old toys and who knows what else. Rubbish bags full. Torn open by animals. Old furniture. Car parts.

People transport this junk into the forest and leave it here.

Today I am wandering through the goldfields at Happy Valley, Victoria.

 

Around me everywhere are diggings - signs of considerable industry and activity from days gone by. It is a wonderful journey back in time. I imagine what it was like with hundred of people busy at work looking for gold.

The old-time gold hunters are long gone. Replaced now by people hoping to make a find with their new technology. But there is no one here today. Just the canine crew and I.

Signs of kangaroo, wallaby and echidna. They have reclaimed the land.

We continue to weave through this sparse forest, stepping around the deep mine shafts and over diggings. Occasionally I stop to look at the piles of rocks…maybe a gold nugget will be poking out.

I am heading towards a washed out creek. But before I get there I stop in my tracks. Here, deep in the forest, inaccessible by anything other than legs or trail bike are the remains of an old car (I love the colour).

Turquoise car

How did that get here? It rests in a shallow digging near the creek. Must have been long ago - the trees have grown up all around, hemming it in. It has been here for such a long time.

I am both annoyed and fascinated by it.

People have been using it as target practice with their rifles and stones. I resist the temptation to do the same.

The dogs undertake a close inspection. Maybe it has become shelter to the local animals.

All around me, are mounds of white river pebbles rounded by the force of the water.

As we move away from the creek the stones change significantly and become jagged quartz, white and pink with black stripes. These are the signs the gold diggers were looking for. The hiding places for gold.

One of the dogs is on the scent of something, probably a wallaby. The others nose around the diggings.

We continue back towards the car and I am annoyed again now.

Idiots have dumped their rubbish into the diggings as though this was a tip. Rubbish all over the place.

I head home to vent to the local paper. A letter to the editor about the need to preserve the goldfields and clean up the rubbish.

That ought to do it!

Deer

I love this sign. Makes me laugh.

It is a warning sign regarding the deer in Nara, Japan.

A delightful place to spend a day. Wander up along a lovely road and into a large parked area of some 660 hectares. At the far end is a temple/shrine and all along the way are Sika deer.

I can report that I saw zero deer attacks whilst I was there.

Nara is in the lower middle of Japan. It is a tourist hotspot. Designated as a “natural treasure” (according to Japan-guide.com).

We all came here to see the town that is home to deer - the “messengers of the gods”. The Shinto gods that is.

They are everywhere, these messengers - all of them just hanging out.

Quite alot are smooching for snacks from the tourists.

There are food vans selling the deer snacks (of course there are!). These are called “Shika senbei” or “deer crackers”.

https://narashikanko.or.jp/en/feature/deer/

Deer Crackers

These deer just look very cute and non-violent.

The two below were rather determined to have their share of snacks. You can see the one on the right has adopted the ‘direct stare’ approach. A mind-trick aimed to hypnotise the human into dispersing deer-snacks.

I understand that the deer are summoned to the park by a chap blowing a horn. This marks the start of the season. The deer storm down from the surrounding mountains and cluster around the horn blower. (https://narashikanko.or.jp/en/feature/deer/)

One thing that greatly amused me was the way the deer would bow to you: if you stop, face the deer politely and bow. It would then lower its head in response. True story. Did it many times. Just like Buckbeak in Harry Potter…

Next time you are in Kyoto or Osaka take a detour and visit Nara (this blog is not sponsored by the Japanese Tourist industry).

Winter wonderland walking

In search of adventure, the walking crew minus the one who flew north for the winter, headed out to the forest today.

We parked in a new spot and wandered off the track through a valley, then up a little hill into an area where we’ve never explored before. This is an area that had a controlled burn a few years back and has regenerated considerably.

The first thing I noticed was a little shrub that I don’t recall ever seeing before. It looks like a kind of banksia with white flowers. Very small.

I stopped to take a photograph and was completely entranced. When I raised my head I realized were surrounded by them. They are all over this little valley. Having never seen one anywhere else on any of my walks I am now surrounded by these beautiful flowering natives. They are here and only here.

As we continued deeper into the forest the undergrowth became much thicker. We came upon a couple of small clearings which I realized are the camping grounds for kangaroos or wallabies. The brush is squashed down and it is protected and warm. Little areas of safety and seclusion for a kangaroo. Then, as if right on cue, I saw the back end of a little wallaby, jumping away from us. We headed in the other direction.

Go in peace little friend.

It had started raining again. I stopped to put my raincoat and my beanie back on. I’ve worn my gum boots - not the best for walking but better than wet feet.

The undergrowth here is so thick that I’m following animal tracks. At my heels, I have a dog whose head periodically gets kicked because she’s too close. She’s following me down the animal track. Behind her, another dog, all of us maneuvering our way along a kangaroo trail.

We are in the Victorian Goldfields area where there was a large amount of human activity activity in the 1850’s and 60s. I’m on the lookout for anything interesting - diggings or signs of human inhabitation. Maybe some relics or old rubbish or old bottles left behind from the golddiggers. So far today we haven’t found anything.

The wild flowers are emerging. So much pink. Yellow wattle and white heath. It is very beautiful.

We continued walking and found ourselves in a pine forest. It is a plantation really. I suspect that if there were any gold diggings here they would’ve been ripped up by the plantation owners. It is hard going walking through here. The skeletons of trees long gone remain littered on the ground.

We are heading back towards the car when I discovered a huge tree had fallen over, probably in a storm. At the top of the tree stump there is a little colony of fungi.

I smile. It makes me happy to see things like this.

Private priceless little moments.

Look closely! Fungi to the right

Close-up of the fungi community

Then the dogs found another tree with a lovely place for a creature to shelter from the weather. Big enough enough for me and a few friends.

Then the dogs are excited. We found a creek. Time for a swim and a drink.

Back to the car. The dogs will be nice and wet for the ride home.

Never too cold

Walking about

Every few days the dogs and I go exploring in the forest. We are fortunate to be surrounded by forest in every direction. There are many destination choices and, even after years, we are always discovering new places.

A couple of times a week we walk as part of our regular walking group but sometimes it’s just us.

The other day the crew walked seven kilometres, just ambling along. Going in any direction. We found a long fence-line and a lot of kangaroo trails and then a small river and a steep rock face. Monty wanted to scamper down it so that he could have a swim but the management team said “no…find another way down”. And so he did.

We always find something new and exciting walking through the forest.

Today the weather is very bleak. Showers of horizontal rain and cloud cover. I had packed my wet weather gear. I love the rain. And so do the dogs. But then the sun came out for most of the walk and I was too hot and had to peel off some of the layers.

On this walk we went the long way round to see the eagles nests.

On our way we found a blue gum tree plantation with beautiful curved tracks through it. We followed kangaroo trails all the way through it and looked up and admired the long straight trunks of the eucalypt trees.

Then we climbed through the fence. I had to hold it up for the dogs but Edwina managed to get through on her own…she magically appeared behind me. It’s a mystery how she got through. I examined the fence bot could not see any gaps in it...

We had a look at the eagle’s nest. There were no eagles.

The nests are in good shape and look ready for action. We will be back in about August to see if there are eaglets (see my earlier blog about this).

The eagle’s double decker nest

Then Edwina found a burrow in the side of the hill. Uninhabited, which was just as well as she shoved her head right into it.

Then Fred found a dam and all the dogs had a swim even though it’s only 6° C outside.

It is never too cold to swim for the Border Collies

Then we climbed through another fence. Fences wont stop us when we are having an adventure.

Betsy posing for the camera

Then we found a rocky escarpment and we all climbed up to have a look at the view. Fred pretended that he got stuck halfway, but he really just wanted to rest. When I went back down to help him he just scampered up the rocks. He can be sneaky like that sometimes.

Fred - pretending to be looking at a plane

Then I was sitting on the rocks looking out to the west and I could see the rain coming. It looked like a massive cloud or thick mist heading towards us. I put my beanie back on and we headed into the trees for a bit of cover.

Then we found a tree that had been eaten out by termites and I kicked part of it and it all crumpled everywhere but there were no termites. I think they had moved out ages ago.

Fred (behind) wondering why I am kicking a tree

Then we found some interesting fungi. I was careful not to squash it.

And then I found a great big mound of dirt and wondered if maybe there is a body buried there. I didn’t have my shovel so that’s another mystery.

And then I found a little teacup and I put it on a tree stump just in case anyone needs it in the future.

Then I picked a up a few armfuls of rubbish. I guess those who left it there didn’t see the rubbish bin about 10 metres away.

And then, just as I was examining a big hollow in a tree, I realized we had arrived back at the car. Somehow we did a massive circle and just coincidentally ended up at the car.

Animal interfaces

I was about 15 minutes late this morning walking down the hill with the canine crew plus one, that being Mitzy the cat.

The horses were waiting for me. Just out the front of the house.

The crew and I took a slight detour so as to avoid the horses as sometimes they get a little boisterous. We wandered down and along the fenceline and rambled towards the feed area. Towards the end of the journey we met the horses. Seeing that a couple of the horses were showing some interest in Mitzy I ran over and picked her up just to make sure she was safe.

Jasper my big gray horse took up a position at my elbow. He was following at very close quarters. After a couple of minutes of walking, I stopped and faced Jasper. I watched him as he lowered his nostril and took a sniff of Mitzy. His nostrils flared. He took another big sniff. Satisfied he turned away and continued on his way.

Interactions between different species of animals interest me.

Happy and unexpected interactions, as opposed to predator/prey interactions, are a joy to observe. They make me smile.

They seem to interest a great many people and feature with great popularity on social media reels. A cat walking along a horse’s back. A pig playing ball with a cow. A turtle pushing a cat out of its bed so that it can sleep there. A cow rubbing itself lovingly on a horse. A sheep frollicking with a group of dogs. On and on….

Edwina and Mitzy in repose

I have four dogs and three cats and for the most part they are friends. It is not unusual to see one of the dogs asleep on the couch beside a cat.

Sometimes I see a dog licking one of the cats. Not in a ‘testing the food’ sort of way. In a ‘you are one of my pack’ sort of way.

It is lovely but of course it is a product of their upbringing. We are a pack. A pack of many creatures. All living together.

We at the very least tolerate each other.

We are kind to each other.

Mostly.

Jasper sharing (inadvertently) his breakfast with the chickens

Animal cafes

On a recent trip to Japan one of the things that really struck me was the absence of visible animal life.

This was the case, not just in the big cities like Tokyo, but also rurally. I saw not one cow, horse, sheep, goat nor any other critter. I saw no wild beasts although heard stories of hunters catching bear and deer (to eat).

One day I saw 6 black birds.

In Tokyo and Yokohama (a large city just below Tokyo) there was the occasional dog.

Rarely walking on its own legs.

Usually in a pusher - which I can only assume was made for purpose - replete with blankets and cushions. The dog was always dressed to the nines in its going-out outfit. Possibly a waterproof jacket over the top. Maybe a little hat.

Then there were the dogs in baskets, dog backpacks (the dog’s head pops out through a hole), carry bags and pet slings (like a back pack but the pet is round the front - usually with a leg casually hanging out).

The one dog that I saw walking on its own legs had sneakers on, a nifty jacket and a head piece. It might have been antlers. I am not sure who was more uncomfortable - me or the dog.

The place where I did see animals was at an animal cafe.

There are many of these in Japan featuring owls, cats, dogs, hedgehogs, penguins, otters, snakes, foxes, mini pigs, parrots and, of course, the mixed animal ‘zoo’.

The picture below is of the Harajuku Zoo where I paid my money and spent 20 minutes.

I cuddled a few animals but left feeling very uneasy.

The inside of the premises was pink. Pink everywhere.

It was clean. It was quiet. The animals were brushed and clean. They had food and water.

They had meercats, hedgehogs, ferrets, one long eared fox (who slept the entire time - I checked for a pulse) and a tiny very distressed-looking monkey in a birdcage.

Great care was taken to ensure that the animals were treated gently. The customers were quiet and carefully cradled the little animals whilst cooing and taking photos.

Meercat at an animal cafe in Tokyo

It was a fascinating glimpse into this phenomena.

Cafes where one can interact with animals. Have a soft drink and pat a hedgehog.

I suppose it is really little different to the zoos of yesteryear. Just on a smaller scale and incorporating themes and stylized colour palettes.

I admit to feeling very conflicted and wanted to do a grab and release. Let the creatures go back to the wilds.

But I was also very grateful to be able to see and touch animals I had never been close to before. A selfish consumeristic appreciation at the expense of little creatures.

I think I should have gone to the cat cafe.

Hedgehog - she wasn’t hungry

Tractor (No.2)

Zetor - Czech made - post-WW2 tractor.

The little red Zetor tractor was great for a while but, given its age and lack of technology, it had its limitations.

In order to get the hay bales down from the top of the stack of three I had to climb up the haystack and tie a rope around the top bale. I would then attach the other end of the rope to the tractor.

Scream at the dogs to get out of the way and reverse the tractor at a bit of a distance from the hay. Pulling the bales off and out.

I could then pick up the bale with the forks on the front of the tractor. Out to the paddock and feed the hay out to the animals.

This process had its moments. Monty narrowly missed being squashed. He loved to try and catch the mice as they scurried out of the hay - he would chomp them! And occasionally a bale would bounce off in the wrong direction.

Zetor and the new tractor

Years later I had a little bit of cash and a friend was selling his dad’s old tractor. What an upgrade!!! This one had forks that tilted and lifted up high. It had air conditioning and a stereo. Wipers and lights. Wonderful!!!!!

Now I could just approach the pile, extend the lifting device and pick off the high bales. Very little likelihood of a dog being squashed now.

But I had to learn a bunch of new tricks with this tractor. There were buttons and levers to master.

And more importantly I needed to understand that when you have a very heavy object such as a hay bale suspended above the tractor there is a chance the tractor may overbalance and flip. I was advised of this danger. In very clear terms. By a friend. Always have another hay bale on the back forks to counter balance it. Or drive with the bale down low.

I ignored that advice. Not intentionally but I just did not register the importance.

One day I was driving the tractor at an angle on a hillside with a hay bale up high. Everything wrong.

Suddenly I felt the wheels on the high side lift off the ground. The tractor was about to flip.

My instincts at the time were to stand up and lean up the hill as though that would help keep the tractor four wheels down. (Wrong!) I hung onto the door. Suddenly my brain clicked on and I hit the lever to drop the hay bale.

The front forks flew down to the ground, the hay bale hit the earth with a great thump and the tractor righted itself. However, with this, the door of the tractor slammed shut. My hand was part way out that door. Broken fingers and blood. But I was alive at least. Shaken but not stirred.

I never did that again.

Moral to the story?

Listen and learn from those with experience and who offer their help. It may save an injury!! Or death.

Tractor (No.1)

Now that I had livestock on my farm, cattle and then horses, I discovered that at certain times of the year there wasn’t enough food on the ground. In winter and in the dry months of summer the pasture would not grow or dry off.

I had studied Agriculture. I should have known this.

This meant buying hay. In bulk. By the semi-trailer load.

Initially I kept the hay in a small yard. Covered it with a large tarp. Kept the rain off it.

Unfortunately it didn’t keep the cattle out.

One day they broke into the yard and absolutely decimated the neat piles of hay, ruining it. It was an expensive mistake on my part. The cattle were very happy, for a while.

I realized that I had to be smarter about it. And this meant investing in infrastructure. I had a large hay shed built. Perfect. Did the trick. The big round bales could be stored three high. Nice and dry and no access for the cattle.

Of course, moving one of these large round bales is a difficult task without the proper equipment. They weigh a tonne. Literally.

In the days before I had a tractor I would tie a rope around a hay bale and drag it into the paddock with my car. It kind of worked. And it kind of bent the bumper of the car.

I needed a tractor. A friend of mine advised me of a place where a fellow would buy older tractors, do them up and then sell them fairly cheaply. The first tractor I bought was a Czechoslovakian tractor called a Zetor. It think it was manufactured just after WW2.

The tractor dealer told me that it was “a nice little lady’s tractor”. A comment that has amused me ever since. He meant that it had some creature comforts - an enclosed cabin and a comfortable cushion seat and a cooling fan. It had more than enough horsepower to do what I needed done.

It was perfect for me as a beginner.

my old Zetor tractor and the hay shed

Fungi

One of my favourite things is fungi. I am a ‘fungilover’.

I have come very late to the love of fungi.

Fungi is everywhere. When you starting looking around you will be amazed at what you see in the fungi world.

This is a photo blog of some of my fungi finds.

The above group of toadstools are on a pile of horse pooh.

Fungi are one of the most important elements of our ecosystems. They are decomposers, feeding on rotting material, converting it to usable substances. Into nutrients and other elements which then become available to plants.

Typical fungi - and fungi that most people recognise, like in the photo above - are comprised of a cap, a stem usually with a ring part way along (remnant of the cap opening and spreading out), gills on the underside of the cap, spores which fall out from the bottom of the cap. And at the very base of the fungi are the hyphae, filaments which branch into a mass called mycelium.

The top part of the fungus above the soil is the fruiting body.

Interestingly a ‘fairy ring’ is one giant fungus. One organism.

The mushrooms or toadstools which form the circle are actually the fruiting bodies of the one creature. The mycelium (vegetative part of the fungus) sends out its filaments (hyphae) in all directions and the fungi emerge above ground appearing as a circle.

Fungi can be very very simple single-celled organisms or very very complex multicellular organisms.

There are about 144,000 known species.

Yeasts, rusts, smuts, molds, mildews, mushrooms.

They are everywhere. Soil, air, water, on and in plants and animals AND in the human body!

They are responsible for some diseases but they are also highly beneficial.

https://www.britannica.com/science/fungus

wood fungus

The biggest organism on the planet is actually a fungus. True story.

Armillaria ostoyae.

It is located in a forest in Oregon, USA. It occupies 965 hectares and may be as old as 8,650 years old. Apparently it is made up of individual fungi all linked together and genetically the same organism. Scientists have tested the DNA to prove this.

https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/strange-but-true-largest-organism-is-fungus/

another wood fungus from the bottom - note the gills

a little grouping in a pile of rotting hay

Here are a few facts about fungi:

• they are more like animals than plants

• they allow trees to communicate with each other via a network of Mycorrhizal fungi which form a symbiotic relationship with the roots of the trees

• some fungi have been used to clean up chemical spills and toxic chemicals, such as the nuclear disaster in Fukushima, Japan

• some glow in the dark, they are bioluminescent

• some are used to create food such as cheeses and alcoholic beverages

• some are used as medicine such as for cancer and multiple sclerosis, antibiotics and some vaccines - made using yeasts

https://www.leaflimb.com/16-Fascinating-Facts-About-Fungi/

So keep your eyes open and be fascinated!

Dad

I spoke in an earlier blog about the influence my dad had on me in my love for nature and the bush and being outdoors. I want to chat a little further about dad.

There were three main elements to my father (if I can put it in that rather clumsy way).

He was an intensely devoted family man. Family was so very important to him.

Apart from family his Christian faith was his cornerstone. He was a ‘Believer’ for the whole of his life.

The third aspect was his adoration of ‘country’. And it is this aspect with which I resonate.

He loved and needed to be outside. In his garden or any garden or at the farm. He was intensely interested in the animals and it especially brought him great pleasure to spend time with the dogs and cats. He had no fear of the larger animals and would pat them and talk to them. I think he probably would’ve spent much more time out here on the farm if he did not have competing demands.

He grew up in the rural Western District of Victoria, Australia at a time when life wasn’t nearly as busy and complicated as it is now. It was these early influences, I believe, which instilled in him his primary loves.

As a young girl, I recall him taking us on trips to the country where his father lived. He would rent a giant army tent and we would camp there in the summer for a couple of weeks. It was a bit nerve racking as the tent had no floor (unlike our modern day tents and swags!). Snakes (and I refer you to my earlier story where I stepped on a snake one summer in this very area). Spiders. Mosquitoes and flies. Rain. Wind. We had it all.

But we loved it.

Every morning we would get up and check out all the farm animals and their enclosures - chooks and ducks and peacocks and all sorts of other creatures. Then we would wander around my grandfather’s giant vegetable garden. Walk in the bush along the trails, through the fern forests with the giant Eucalyptus trees. Kookaburras and magpies over head. An occasional kangaroo or wallaby.

All of these experiences were so important to me in shaping who I was to become - shaping my love of animals and nature. And air. Wonderful fresh air.

In later years when he came up to the farm he would help me out with the chores. Feeding out the hay to the cattle and working in the vegetable patch.

And later still, when he was less able-bodied (and rather too fat!), I remember him trying to climb through a wire fence to go from one paddock to the next. He overbalanced and flopped and rolled like a giant bag of potatoes through the fence. No injuries. We just laughed. He was good like that. Saw the humor in his own failings.

Another time he and one of his mates joined me for a day out with my horse riding crew. We loaded up the float with my horse and the car with food and chairs and such.

He wasn’t a horse rider but he loved a stroll through the bush. And a sit around the fire. And this was where we found him when we arrived back from our ride. Comfortably seated in a camp chair around the fire ready for the BBQ lunch. Relaxed and loving every moment of it.

Graeme (dad) and I. In the bush.

He was a soft man in many ways. He had a huge heart. Very gentle and I rarely saw him angry. He was extremely convicted in his beliefs and very committed.

And he was intensely loyal. To me.

He loved the great outdoors. As do I. I thank him for that.

I wish he was still here so he that could walk with me through the paddocks. I can hear him chattering to the dogs as we watch the horses make their way up the paddock.

Vale Graeme.

A beautiful human being….my dad

Belted Galloway cattle

Early in my time here at this property I decided that I wanted some cattle. I undertook some research and decided that I would buy some Belted Galloways.

These cattle come from the Galloway region of south-western Scotland. They have characteristic coloring which is black with a white stripe around the stomach. Nowadays they are also seen in dun and red (a light sort of champagne and a brown). Always with the white belt around the belly.

They are hardy cattle who survive well on poor posture and in cold temperatures.

They are also very cute. Docile and sweet in nature.

I was at one of the local agricultural shows and noticed a stand with Belted Galloways. Here I met Stan and his wife. We had some discussions and it was agreed that I would come out to their farm and have a look at his cattle and hopefully choose some to buy.

About a week later Stan delivered five mature females.

He reported that they were very quiet and would be no trouble. And he was correct. The girls turned out to be very sweet.

I like the idea of a distinctive cow. Everybody has black Angus around these parts. The ‘Belties’ are a stand-out in a sea of black.

Down the track a bit I decided that it was time to start breeding.

Stan trucked over a bull.

The cattle were very discrete but effective in their dalliances and my little herd eventually grew to be about 15.

It was at that point that I decided I wasn’t going to breed anymore. I didn’t need to. These cattle are effectively pets, keeping the pasture under control and something beautiful for me to look at and interact with in the paddock.

I named one of the babies ‘Dexter’. He was a robust young fella but a bull he was not destined to be.

A local farmer came to help me to castrate the males. This was to be done by a process called ‘emasculation’ - a rubber ring is placed over and above the testicles. This is done when the calves are young but not too young. The testicles need to have descended.

The ring cuts off the blood supply to the testicles. The testicle withers and dies and eventually drops off.

A more fitting end to a testicle I cannot imagine.

Sometimes during this process [because the animal is stressed] he will pull his testicles back up into his body cavity, making it very difficult for the ring to be put in place. Some cattle farmers prefer to use a knife - cut open the animal, pull out the testicles, cut them off throw them to the dogs.

Another fine ending for a testicle!

When it came to be Dexter’s turn he sucked those testicles upwards. Only one testicle went into the ring. We were unable to locate the remaining testicle and it remained ascended in his body cavity.

The plan was to come back and repeat the operation. However, his remaining testicle never descended.

Dexter continues to walk the Earth with one testicle. (“Hoorah” say all the blokes!)

He looks rather bullish now because he still has the male hormones continuing to be produced by his testicle. However he is as gentle as a bug. The worst he ever does is shake his big head at me.

Dexter

About six years ago, Dexter started limping quite badly. I was worried about it so I called in the Veterinary. She undertook an assessment of him and determined that he had suffered an injury to his leg and was unlikely to recover and the best outcome for him would be to have him put down.

Now I’m not one of those people who is very skeptical of medical advice. I do listen to what they say. However, I thought she was wrong.

Dexter went into a small paddock. Control his movement. Rest. Recover.

Here he remained (with his one testicle) for a few weeks before he was allowed to return to the herd.

He has been thriving ever since.

Echidna

Tonight I am doing this blog like a little school project. I am embracing my inner 12 year old.

It is about the Echidna:

Echidnas (/ɪˈkɪdnəz/) (and I have included the phonetic pronunciation for the benefit of those who don’t know how to pronounce the word ‘echidna’) are quill covered Australian animals.

They are sometimes known as ‘spiny anteaters’.

They belong to the family Tachyglossidae… in the monotreme order of egg-laying mammals…they lay eggs and then lactate - feeding the offspring via milk patches in the pouch area, where fine pores secrete the milk onto specialized hair follicles. The female echidna does not possess nipples or teats to feed her young.

‘Puggles’ are what the babies are called and they are super cute. I have never seen one in the wild but I sure would like to. Apparently the gestation period is only about 3 weeks so the reproductive turn around time is very quick. The female lays the egg into her own pouch where it hatches and remains until old enough to subsist without help.

Puggle (from Wildcare Australia webpage)

The male echidna has a four-headed penis. I did not know that! Nor did I expect it. When mating he flattens down two of the heads (saving them for another female) and inserts into the two branched reproductive tract of the female. Both barrels!

They do not shoot their quills. I am not sure why anyone would think that this is something that they do but apparently this is something that the porcupine does. But they are not porcupines.

They have no teeth. They do have a long sticky tongue with which they eat ants and other insects. They forage in the bush and evidence of their activities can be seen in the disruption of ant’s nests where they will dig looking for a meal.

They are (apparently) pretty smart. And friendly. Although whenever I have met one they don’t seem all that friendly. They tend to start burrowing into the ground double-fast in a fairly unfriendly sort of way. But at least they do not attack!

Echidnas are solitary creatures who sometimes hang out with a little gang and wander nose to tail forming what is known as an ‘echidna train’. I understand that the female leads the train with her male suitors following behind. (That sounds divine!!!! doesn’t it girls???) I saw one of these one day. They were heading out of the bush and under the road via a big concrete pipe. It was most unexpected. I had no idea what was going on!!!!

To my absolute delight I once found a little hive of echidnas in one of my sheds. They were all hunkered down up the back in the dark. I think that they were hibernating but then they realised it wasn’t all that quiet around the shed (chooks and dogs and such). They moved out after a week or two. I was sad that they had moved on.

Now, every now and then, the canine crew and I run into an echidna on our travels. Sometimes I see one trundling past the back of the house up the hill. I expect that they know that I live here and that I am echidna-friendly. The dogs don’t really understand the echidna. Whenever they have met one it is just a ball of very sharp quills and is to be avoided.

Echidnas are very interesting and I give them a 9/10.

Here are the references for the factual information above - https://www.environment.sa.gov.au/goodliving/posts/2019/01/echidna-facts#:~:text=5.,leathery%20egg%20into%20her%20pouch.

https://wildcare.org.au/species-information/echidnas/#:~:text=The%20female%20echidna%20does%20not,milk%20onto%20specialized%20hair%20follicles.

Cockatoos

“The sulphur-crested cockatoo (Cacatua galerita) is a relatively large white cockatoo found in wooded habitats in Australia, New Guinea and some of the islands of Indonesia. They can be locally very numerous, leading to them sometimes being considered pests.” (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sulphur-crested_cockatoo)

Yes and they are here again.

They are here every morning now and I know that it is my own fault.

I started it.

I decided to put out a little bit of wild bird seed in the mornings for the small parrots and the doves. One day a cockatoo joined the smaller birds. And then it was on. They never looked back. The big birds have booted out the smaller ones now and taken over at feeding time.

It has become a frenzy of white. A screeching broiling mess of parrot flesh.

But that is not all - I have noticed lately that the action starts well before my arrival at the feeding trays. They are tracking me now! Spying on me from the treetops. Screeching out to each other to advise that I am on my way. Pushing me onwards to their breakfasting area.

I head down the hill towards the horse yards with the canine crew. We look up. They are there above us. Glaring at me from the top of a dead tree. Beady black eyes. Watching.

One by one they leave their perches and fly over our heads. Following our direction.

A screech goes out. The bird telegraph has begun.

at the top of the hill where I begin my daily walk

I arrive at the horse yards and again look up. There are now about 20 big white birds above the yards.

Hitchcock comes to mind. Somewhat unnerving.

Parrot-mind games.

They are quiet now. Waiting. Watching.

above the horse yards….

I head towards the sheds. The bird feeders are just outside here. I enter and collect a scoop of seed for the chickens. By the time I exit the shed they have arrived from their last tree stop.

A swarm now. All over the trees. Some of the gamer ones are perched lower down. Surveilling. Occasionally jostling with each other. Waiting. Watching.

I return and refill the scoop. Hungry eyes are on me. They know that there is only so much feed to go around. It will be a fight. As soon as I have emptied the scoop into the feed trays they begin.

Birds everywhere.

And every now and then a small black and white dog comes running into the mix - Edwina (Border Collie) heads into the fray. Barking and swirling around. She scares the tyrants away.

The take off fluttering upwards to the trees again but they know she won’t be around for long. They are soon back at the feeding trays.

It is a game. Everyday now.

I smile.

Edwina (dog stories)

Every now and then someone unexpectedly wonderful comes along and changes your world.

Edwina is such an entity.

She arrived at the farm a little while after I had lost my beautiful Wilbur (Australian Shepherd dog) to cancer. His death was very sudden, very unexpected and extremely upsetting for me. [I will write about Wilbur another day as he deserves his own story.]

I didn’t need another dog but for some reason four is the golden number.

I was helping out a friend who was looking to buy a puppy. I started checking out breeders and then landed back on the breeder who had sold me Fred (Border Collie) some years earlier. She had two pups left from a litter. They were horribly expensive (three times the price I had paid for Fred!). She sent me the photos. This little critter was irresistible.

I told my friend about the pup but she was non-committal. Was thinking now of a Kelpie.

I was already in love and so off I went to bring home this little girl.

Edwina and a pooh

I dubbed her ‘Edwina’ (aka ‘Eddie’). No idea why. It just seemed to fit.

She was a rascal from day one. Ever-present. Determined to keep up with the bigger dogs when we went for a walk. Determined to be loved and one of the pack.

She adored Fred from the start. He is her cousin and maybe she just knew…

She would sit directly in front of him (still does) and lick his mouth. He growling the entire time but never more than this. She unmoved. Just carries on licking.

When I return home after a time out she runs up to Fred (and then me!) and jumps around like a crazy thing. So excited that she needs to share it.

She also adores Betsy and I would sometimes find them asleep in the same bed. And Monty gets a mouth lick every now and then too.

Every morning she carries a little gift in her mouth for me when I come out of the house to start the day’s chores. A bone (chewed), a plastic bottle (chewed), a stick (chewed) and quite often a piece of cow pooh (see earlier story ‘Pooh is a not a dirty word’) (chewed). She drops each item and then re-collects it after it has been acknowledged with a ‘thank you’.

She also does this when a visitor arrives.

Her favourite visitor and one of the founding members of the ‘Weekly Walking Group’, Uncle Bill is a frequent recipient of such gifts. She adores him and nearly jumps out of her skin when she thinks his vehicle has arrived. I have had to tackle her more than once when it was not Uncle Bill but another unsuspecting visitor.

As a young pup Edwina suffered a rather bad injury. I came out to greet the dogs one morning and was met with a pool of blood and a young dog with a huge flap of skin hanging off her shoulder. She had flayed herself on something in the garden.

It took more than five weeks to heal. She was pretty much inside the whole time and with me (and the cats). She now identifies as an inside-Border-Collie. Her expectation is to be inside as much as possible, that is ALL the time.

Her favourite things are puddles, dams, creeks, horse troughs, anything with mud, anything with water, anything with mud and water. She also likes a lick of milk in the mornings.

She is also fond of sitting opposite me when I am sitting on the toilet. Sometimes she is joined by Mitzy. Occasionally Monty drops in as well. Betsy might swing past. It can get pretty crowded sometimes.

She is adorable. A delight.

I love her and I frequently tell her that she must never leave me……

Edwina - likes anything with mud and water

Death

Death. It is one of very few sure things in life.

Absolutely definitely going to happen. To all of us.

And surprisingly, as certain as it is for all of us, it somehow seems ‘unnatural’. It is shocking and frightening and terribly sad. It is unfair. Premature. Untimely. Unbelievable. Devastating. Sometimes it is a relief.

So much emotion is connected to death.

And this includes the death of an animal that has been loved.

An animal that has been part of the family over any period of time can elicit the same emotional response. In many cases this may be an even stronger response than the loss of a human family member or friend. We grow so close to our beloved animals.

It can be easy to minimize the impact of the death of a loved animal. Glib comments are often made which work to erode the significance of the loved one. Comments which would never be made about the loss of a beloved human.

An insensitive family member once said to me after a beloved dog of 12 years had been euthanized “Oh, well, it’s only a dog”. I will never forget the feeling of surprise, hurt and anger. Absolutely no comprehension of who and what that pet had been to me and my family unit.

That comment demonstrated to me that that person really had no understanding of the sort of relationship that can develop between a person and their pet. I still wonder at why they made the remark as though it would comfort me in some way?

In complete contrast a friend, after learning of the death of that dog, sent me flowers and a card. A sentiment that I enormously appreciated.

It should be remembered that we spend almost every day interacting with our domestic pets. Pets play a vital role as an emotional net, a support crew and ever-present friends.

And if one is lucky enough to live on a farm or property where one can directly interact with larger animals, such as horses and cattle (or any animal), one can come to form very strong bonds with these creatures and they with us.

A friend of mine recently told me how in the last week or so she lost a foal, a dog and a cow. She was trying to emotionally distance herself from the loss of each of those as she told me the stories. But I could clearly see that there was pain etched on her face. Pain in her eyes. Each of those animals was meaningful to her and had been loved.

When I started to talk about losses that I had experienced and the grief that I felt, she opened up (almost as though I had implicitly given her permission to also express her feelings). Feelings of great sadness and loss. Loved ones now gone and greatly missed.

We agreed that these animals are sentient creatures. Each of them capable of knowing, feeling, and understanding. Capable of forming relationships with each other, with other creatures and with humans. Each of these animals is a being with its own personality. A complex intelligent creature.

Each and every animal that I have ever known has been a beautiful and unique individual. Each with its own little quirks, mannerisms, likes and dislikes and ways of interacting with me. All special.

I appreciate the depth of relationship that can and does form between humans and animals. I appreciate that sadness and grief will necessarily be part of that when there is loss. We are all here together, interconnected.

I still say “no dead animals please!!!” but I know that one day we will all move on.

Maude (cat stories)

Maude is like the cat version of a tortise-shell wombat.

She has stumpy little legs and a fat little body. She only ever moves slowly. Very slowly.

She is a pint-sized version of a much larger cat. Her attitude expands out of her chubby little body and takes over any space in which she inhabits.

When she meows her whole head moves. A very definite meow.

And she is a puncher. Not a slapper or a whacker but a puncher.

She frequently punches Mitzy (her best friend) at meal time.

It's actually kind of funny to watch. As I am putting the food out she muscles in and then belts Mitzy to the face. It's quite uncatlike in a very catty sort of way. Quite forceful. And rather bitchy if you ask me.

Quite unnecessary.

I don’t know why she feels the need to resort to such violence. Thirty seconds more and she would have her own feed bowl full to the brim.

I certainly didn’t teach her this. And poor Mitzy, a lover not a fighter. Perpetually surprised to receive a blow to the cheek whilst simply sitting patiently waiting for dinner.

Best friends Maude and Mitzy (left).

Maude came to me as a stray. She had turned up at a friend of a friend’s home. That person already had about 5 cats (all in rather poor condition from what I could see!). They were relegated to the back porch area. Outside. Outside cats.

Maude, when I arrived for a look-see, was on the bed in the main room. She was thin and scraggly looking. Very sad little face. They said that refused to stay outside and so they let her in.

Of course I took her then and there. Into the catbox and home to paradise. She didn’t realise it at the time but soon would see that she had entered a new and wondrous phase of life.

When I got her back to the farmhouse she exited the catbox reluctantly and jumped up onto a dining room chair. And there she remained for two days.

She was full of worms and covered in fleas.

I have no idea what she had experienced but she was traumatised (like so many of these poor strays). She would not sit on a lap nor be held. Not for anything. She meowed desperately to be left alone. And she really didn’t want to go outside.

I started her therapy immediately.

She was to endure a firm ‘holding’ every day, increasing to multiple firm ‘holdings’ per day. Each session I held her until she softened and stopped fighting and then I let her down.

I think it took about six months for it to sink in that she was loved. That it was okay to be held and to ‘hold’ (sit on a lap). She gradually developed affection for me. And I guess trust.

We have never looked back.

I wrote in one of my earlier blogs that Homer (cat) had deserted my bed at night (probably as payback for his incarceration - he deserved it!). After nine years of snuggling me each night he pointed his little cat bum at me and huffed off onto a couch downstairs.

I am happy to announce that Maude has taken his spot. These nights, when I go to bed, she is already there. A little meow greets me as I alight the stairs and there she is.

A sweet little tubby wombatty cat.

Maude relaxing….

Morning

I’ve started a new ritual in the mornings.

Every morning after feeding the chooks and the horses, the canine crew and I head out for our pre-breakfast walk, usually next door.

We go under and over fences. Heading towards the little forest. I have tracks around and through this space. Sometimes we follow these trails. Sometimes we follow a kangaroo trail through the ferns.

On the other side of this treed area we break out into a clearing and stand in the sunlight. The little hill looks to the south west.

I look into the distance and I ask myself “How are you feeling today?”

Today I reply “I feel okay.”

Tomorrow it may be: “I feel content today” or “I feel happy today” or “it’s a crap day today”.

I want to register my mental state. Make a note of it.

Mt Elephant, extinct volcano, in the distance.

This day when I stop I have two dogs beside me.

They wait and watch, waiting for me to give the signal as to which direction we’re going to move in. The others are sniffing at a rabbit burrow.

In the distance, down the hill, I can see my cows quietly grazing in the lush grass.

To my left, I see a couple of wood ducks sitting on the hill. Beautiful colors of the male. He with his mate. He calls out having seen us there.

Over the boundary fence are a mob of young cattle. They have seen the dogs and decided they must move away from us. They charge off in the opposite direction. A gang of black.

I realize almost instantly that it’s a combination of being surrounded by nature and animals and the brilliant fresh air that I appreciate so much.

The quiet. The stillness. It makes me feel happy. It is what brings contentment into my world.

I inhale. I breathe. I shut my eyes and breathe it in.

I cannot imagine a life without it now.

I cannot imagine getting up in the morning and being faced with a sea of people. Concrete. Noise. Traffic.

When I lived and worked in the big city I used to catch the train to work each day. Crammed in. Faceless. Friendless. Completely disengaged.

I remember reflecting that we were like a swarm of ants. All leaving the nest, heading off together in a line, heading off in a mad rush to work. Nameless. Smileless. Bored. Unhappy. An army of people all doing different things but still the same.

Now here I am standing alone on a hill. I am looking out at an extinct volcano in that direction. A mountain range over there. The blue sky above. Magpies and cockatoos in the trees. I feel the sun on my back.

The dogs are still behind me, waiting.

I am grateful for it all.

And today I am okay.

Homer (cat stories)

Homer has been driving us all a bit mental lately.

Loud yowling for 30 minutes at a time. Following me around. Yowling. Sitting at my feet yowling. He is protesting his lockdown.

He has had his wandering-the-countryside rights permanently withdrawn. He abused his day leave privilege by staying out on the town for an extended period. He is now officially an ‘inside cat’.

He would usually spend his days down in the hay shed. Lazing on a warm bale of hay. Watching the chooks moseying around. Taunting a rat or two. Then he would creep back home, weaving through the long grass along the fenceline (it is about 500 metres between house and hay shed).

When he hadn’t returned at his usual hour one evening the search party kicked into gear. Calling and calling. Then driving along the road looking for his injured or lifeless little body. Not good. Horrible actually.

I guess at some stage I figured that without a corpse he was out there somewhere. Stay positive.

Monty found him a couple of days later. For some reason he was in a large pipe in one of the sheds. Monty was barking into one end of the pipe and Betsy and Edwina were standing guard at the other end. No escape from them.

I looked in and saw a cat. Cat box retrieved and the dirty little stop-out was tipped out and into captivity. Returned to luxury but what he now considers to be a prison.

And now he yowls.

Googled ‘cats meowing’. Apparently they only meow at humans. Not at each other. I guess that it is simple conditioning: cat meows, human responds by talking or feeding or petting cat. Got us trained.

Google also tells me that to extinguish this meowing I must ignore it completely. For as long as it lasts. Even if it is driving me a bit mental. Can’t throw a shoe at him. Can’t pick him up and put him in a room at the other end of the house. Just ignore it.

Homer on a stool

Homer came to me as a very tiny kitten. My gardener gave him to me. One of a litter that his daughter’s cat had birthed. He was half wild cat, half domesticated. Explains his need to roam.

The first night of our relationship he jumped onto the bed and slept between me and my partner.

Slept on the bed every night since then. Sometimes on my chest. Sometimes spooning behind my legs. Sometimes beside my head next to my pillow. Sometimes he would put his little head on my hands, using them as his pillow.

Before bed he would meow and I say “Homer, bedtime” and his meow would change slightly and he would leap onto the bed.

For about nine years he slept on the bed every night.

Not any more.

His absence is, I think, part of his protest. Yowling and rejection of his captor.

Still at least I know that he is safe. The wildlife is safe. And I sleep at night not worrying about his nocturnal escapades.

Homer relaxing

Spiders

When I was in my thirties I was lying in bed about to go to sleep when I felt an incredible pain in my upper arm. I soon learnt that the source was a white tailed spider (Lampona sp.) It had travelled from the great outdoors and into my bedroom in my washing basket. I had thrown the clean (spider-carrying) clothes on the bed before putting them away.

The pain was bad. Real bad.

I ejected out of bed. Located the treacherous beast and mashed him to a pulp.

A primal response I realise but he started it.

The treacherous beast - pre-annihilation

Three weeks later I was still in pain. I had a clear and evident mark where the bite had occurred. I was worried.

Went to the doctor. Doctor had no idea. He looked in the bottom draw of his desk for the insect bite book. Scrolled through. Prescribed some topical cream and said that if it didn’t improve I should return.

These were the days when we were just learning about necrotic ulcers allegedly caused by the bite of these spiders. The flesh starts dying. Huge ulcerated patches with skin falling off. Limbs amputated. I was worried.

There was no necrosis but what did happen was that the bite did not ever heal properly.

It appeared that a pocket of poison was retained just under the skin. Every time that spot was knocked it would flare up. Become painful and itchy. Drove me crazy.

I tolerated this for a year and then got out the pocket knife. Figured that if I cut out the poison pocket it would solve the problem. Minor surgery in the home. I excised the venom-filled flesh. Squeezed it to make it bleed, alot. Applied a bandaid. Problem solved.

Of course, I don’t treat all spiders (or their bites) in this fashion.

As a general rule spiders that are wanderers or very large are relocated outside. If they are prepared to stick to their web in a corner they can stay. Even their offspring can stay.

Over the summer months I have noticed a huge number of Orb-weaver spiders (Eriophora sp.) about the place.

The picture below is of a very large female (she looks female to me) who lives down at the hay shed. She has constructed an extremely large web that spans a space of about a metre square. The carcasses representing many meals remain suspended in the web.

I duck under the web to retrieve a hay bale. She never flinches.

I wonder if she watches me. I know that I am watching her.

As I walk about the bush I see them everywhere. Webs erected between ferns or bushes. The little spiders sitting right in the middle.

Beautifully coloured hairy spiders with round bellies (NB. not called “bellies” in the science world).

At home I had a little Orb-Weaver who insisted on making her web across the fence at the entrance to the pool. I had to carefully break it every time I went for a swim. I could see her sitting on the fence, probably swearing at me.

After a few days ‘Orby’ got the message and started making her nest at an angle. I could walk past it to access the pool and she didn’t have to slave away each night remaking the web.

I am grateful for her work catching mosquitoes and flies. Perhaps she is grateful that I haven’t mashed her to a pulp.

Golden Orb Spider (Nephilia sp.)

Flying Jazz (horse stories)

Breakfast time is a busy time for me. There are plenty of chores to do before the day begins. Lots of creatures want my attention.

Every morning the canine crew and I stroll down the hill from the house. Sometimes Mitzy (cat) joins us.

I look out over the distance. The sun is rising over the horizon. Up the back paddock the last of the kangaroos are finishing their meals before they head back into the bush for the day. There are a few Belted Galloway cattle lazing around. Some of them are grazing. Some of them are lying down, waiting for the warmth of the morning sun.

On our way down we are met by my group of horses. They are so used to our routine that they time my exit from the house almost perfectly every day. They are out the front waiting for me. We wander down as a loosely held together group.

The leader of the equine crew at breakfast time is Flying Jazz.

Flying Jazz or ‘Jazzy’ is an off-the-track racehorse that I bought off a friend about 10 years ago.

Flying Jazz

He only ever ran about four races. Once came fourth in a four horse race.

Flying Jazz chose not to run.

The owners sold him to someone who thought they would use him for polocrosse. Polocrosse is a game played on horseback at considerable speed using nets on the end of long poles and a ball that bounces. It’s like polo but with bouncing balls. It is a fantastic game to watch and if you ever get a chance to go to a championship league game you should go.

Flying Jazz chose not to play polocrosse.

He was sold again.

I don’t know how many times he was sold and moved along between the race track owner and my friend.

My friend would sometimes buy off-the-track race horses and ‘settle’ them: just put them in a paddock and leave them for a year or so. No running, no racing. Just learning how to move slowly again. He would teach them that it’s okay to just walk.

I was at a hiatus. My best horse at that time and my only riding horse, Sisteen, had contracted salmonella. After a lot of medical intervention which ultimately didn’t help she was euthanized.

I was devastated at her loss and I didn’t have a horse to ride. I had bought myself another beautiful colt but I would not be able to ride him for some years. And so Flying Jazz joined my crew.

He was great if one was just walking down a dirt road. He never took off. His desire to run just wasn’t there. But he was hopeless in the bush. If you took him off the track he would become highly anxious and start rushing through the bush knocking past trees and over logs. It wasn’t safe.

Sometimes his ‘thoroughbred’ head would kick in and he would do something wildly unpredictable. This worried me and I didn’t always enjoy the ride.

I rode him for a few years and I was grateful for his service. But I have now retired him to the paddocks.

Breakfast time

His main aim in life now to get his horse crunchies before anybody else and to generally ensure that there is order at feed time.

He is terribly smart. I have watched him trying to open gates using his mouth to lift chains and try to work them open. I have watched him strategize, trying to work around the roadblocks that I put in the place to stop him from getting at another horse’s food. He works it out every time. He will canter a couple of hundred metres up the paddock so that he can reach an open gate then come all the way back down on the other side.

The photo is Jazzy’s every morning standing position at the tack room at feed time. I’m inside mixing up the food. He watches and if I am too slow he starts throwing his head around.

A friend of mine once said to me why don’t you get rid of him? …he is of no use, you’ll never ride him again!

But I will never get rid of him.

No animal gets moved off my property. He’s not useless. He’s a lovely, funny, sweet boy and he deserves a good home.