Friday, September 13

It was a wonderfully nature- and wildlife-oriented day. I was up by 6:30 and headed off with Judy to do a few errands, but then we headed off toward Healesville Sanctuary. As we drove among the trees along the winding mountain roads, we were surrounded by the music of bellbirds and magpies–music that continued even once we reached the sanctuary, though blended with many other sounds.

We spent almost the whole day wandering amid the wonderful birds and animals at the lovely, forested sanctuary. Healesville is well known for its research into that most remarkable of animals, the duck-billed platypus, and I can now attest to the fact that the creature seems just as improbably in real life as it does when being described. Leathery bill (with electrical receptors, like the skin of a shark), soft fur, webbed claws, the males with a poisonous spur. Even without seeing them lay eggs, it was clear that these little mammals would be hard for early scientists to figure out when they were first discovered.

Echidnas, the only other egg-laying mammals (monotremes) were on hand as well, as were wallabies, lizards, possums, pademelons, koalas, dingoes, and a remarkable range of birds, from the towering emu to the tiny honeyeater, and of course many parrots.

Pademelons

Nankeen night heron

Many of the animals were free to wander among visitors, and we enjoyed interacting with them. However, we did almost lose our picnic lunch to one persistent little wallaby. He could smell food through Judy’s canvas pack, and he latched onto it and did not want to let it go. Fortunately, we were able to distract the wallaby with a sanctuary-approved treat, and he finally let go of out pack. (We weren’t really worried that we couldn’t get it back, we just wanted to do it without upsetting the adorable little creature.)

After several hours and at least a hundred photos, it was time to head home for dinner. As Judy prepared the meal, any fat scraps trimmed from the meat were set aside. While things simmered and roasted, Judy, fat scraps in hand, led me outside to a spot where kookaburras and butcherbirds had begun gathering already, having seen Judy approaching. The kookaburras picked up their treats from the ground and carried them to a branch, but the butcherbirds only catch food on the fly, so Judy was tossing their scraps high overhead, and the butcherbirds were snatching them in mid-air. What a show.

Kookaburra with fat scrap from Judy

Another lovely dinner and companionable evening with charming, interesting people who love so many of the things I do.

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August 28, part 2

After about an hour and a half of hiking, we stopped in a grove of moss-covered trees that were identified as Antarctic beeches—Latin name, Nothofagus moorei (also known as Australian beech in some other sources). Apparently, this species of tree dates back to the supercontinent Gondwana and is the type of tree that covered Antarctica, back when Antarctica was still warm. (A bit of later research turned up the fact that trees in the Nothofagus family are actually “false beeches,” with members of the Fagaceae family being the true beeches—in case you wondered.) Interestingly, the small grove of beeches was clearly different than the surrounding rainforest. James explained that these trees need cooler weather to survive, which is why they only grow on the highest mountains this far north. The somewhat taller close relative of these trees, Tasmanian myrtle (Nothofagus cunninghamii, also sometimes called Antarctic beech or Australian myrtle, or maybe even red myrtle, just to keep things interesting) sticks to the cooler, more southerly climate of Tasmania. (Probably more than you ever wanted to know about the trees—but once I started looking and found out how confused the nomenclature was, I couldn’t resist.)

At this lovely spot, James lowered his backpack and produced scones and fruit. Mike and Greg (two regular visitors to Binna Burra who were on the long hike yesterday) also had packs, and they unloaded billy cans, water bottles, and portable fuel jars (no open fires up here when it’s this dry), and we boiled the billy for morning tea. Above us, bees hummed among the flowers in the tree tops, and all around us, rosellas flitted through the branches. While the billies warmed, we climbed a large mound of huge, lichen-stained boulders for a view back through the forest. James mentioned that the reason the beech trees were so close together is that, when a tree dies, new trees start up almost immediately from the base of the old trees.

With tea finished and gear repacked, we continued on. We left the beeches behind and were again enveloped by the rainforest. By 12:30, we were back at Binna Burra. I dropped my hat and sweater with my gear in the lodge, as the day was warming up. Then I set off across the broad clearing again, to take the Bellbird Track down to the Bellbird Clearing, where a barbecue lunch was being prepared. It was supposed to be a 15 minute walk, but it took me 25 minutes, because I stopped to photograph everything. The steaks were already cooked when I reached the barbeque area, and I served myself a steak and some “vegetable marrow” (zucchini), salad, and a large serving of fresh fruit. I think joined Mike on a log in the shade. We ate and chatted, and every now and then, I’d hand him my plate, say “Please hold this a minute,” and dash off to photograph something. I was especially glad to get a nice shot of a kookaburra that perched on a branch near the edge of the clearing.

Kookaburra

After lunch, there was time for one last short walk, and a final wander around the lodge. Then, at 4 o’clock, it was into a minibus that carried us away from Binna Burra. Sigh.