One of my neighbours just gave me a 1l bucket of honey from his friend's bee hives on the NW edge of town. It's. Absolutely. Delicious. I keep dipping a spoon in the bucket every time I go into the kitchen. I think I'm metamorphosing from Eeyore into Winnie the Pooh.

So that's one good thing about today. The other is the rain. Or the promise thereof. We jollied each other along at work by posting images from the Bureau of Meteorology radar of the rain over Adelaide. It's on its way over here, apparently. Should get here by tomorrow afternoon.

But the rest of the day was pretty ordinary. I made a decision last week that I would leave work in a little over two years time. I can't leave any earlier because of the car lease. And two years is just enough time to work out an exit strategy and activate the change plan. (See, I've learnt something from all those staff meetings). On the eve of my birthday in 2009, I'm out of that place. (2009 isn't a significant birthday but I hope to make it one.)

If I'm still blogging then, feel free to throw this back in my face.

It's a new car!

Certainly is. It's a Ford Focus LX. Nothing wildly exciting but it's comfortable and rather zippier than the Daewoo. I picked it up on Wednesday morning and have taken it for a couple of runs. I've got more planned over the next few weekends.

The Minnow at the beach

Lean on me

They look as though they've been through a lot together.

Mount Alexander National Park, near Castlemaine, central Victoria.

Queenscliff

Queenscliff is especially pleasant during the week. I headed down there on Wednesday — the first trip in my new car.


The town is about 90 minutes from Melbourne. (Much longer if you go through the centre of Geelong with its endless sets of traffic lights.) Once you get out of the suburbs (which seem to be expanding at the speed limit, so it feels as if you'll never escape them), the Bellarine Peninsula has an almost rural feel. It's too close to Geelong to be completely convincing but the cedar and she oak windbreaks, the cattle and horses and the vineyards give a good impression of the pastoral. It works for me.

Queenscliff lies on the western entrance to Port Phillip Bay. In the 1880s, it became popular with city folk and the squattocracy. During the boom of 'Marvellous Melbourne', a number of grand buildings went up along Hesse and Gellibrand Streets. Although the Ozone (formerly the Baillieu) Hotel is now being redeveloped as apartments, Queenscliff's other hotels have been restored to their Victorian splendour.

Vue Grand, Hesse Street

Queenscliff Hotel, Gellibrand Street

Ozone, Gellibrand Street

Back to work

I was enjoying my week of indolence and gluttony. It seemed that I was eating out most of the time. On Monday it was breakfast at the Gravy Train in Seddon (eggs Benedict). Tuesday, back to the Gravy Train for lunch with a friend (gnocchi with three cheeses). Wednesday, I drove down to Queenscliff and ate at Café Gusto (sweet potato and leek frittata). Thursday I was up at Castlemaine for a picnic at Mount Alexander (bananas and Turkish bread). Hmmm ... Friday and Saturday, I stayed at home and sprawled on the sofa. And on Sunday, I went to Café Fidama in Yarraville (gnocchi again). Now, I'm broke but have enough adipose tissue to see me through winter.

Of course, I didn't want to go into work today. But I did.

I and the Bird #47

Jochen at Bell Tower Birding has produced a scholarly monograph of that not-so-elusive species, the Blog Bird. Read all about it at the latest I and the Bird.

Van

Picked up my new car today. This is not it.

I photographed this vehicle in sedate Queenscliff at lunchtime today. The company rents out camper vans adorned with pop art, cartoon figures and the odd spray-painted slogan. This is the first of their vans that I've seen but there's quite a gallery on the their web site.

Thinking ... thinking ...

I should have more dignity. But I don't. So ... woo hoo!. Sarala at Blogaway tagged me for a Thinking Blogger Award.

The idea behind the meme is to tag five blogs that have made you think (see the rules below). That's trickier than it sounds. Some blogs are funny, some have wonderful photographs, others offers insights into the creative process ... Some are a combination of all those. I've listed five blogs that are either jam-packed with facts or set me thinking about things in a different way.

Here they are (in no particular order):

• The Annotated Budak
• Neurophilosopher's Blog
• Deep Sea News
• Tetrapod Zoology
• Marginalia

Bugger! That was difficult.

The participation rules are simple:
1. If, and only if, you get tagged, write a post with links to 5 blogs that make you think,
2. Link to this post so that people can easily find the exact origin of the meme,
3. Optional: Proudly display the 'Thinking Blogger Award' with a link to the post that you wrote

That was that! Please, remember to tag blogs with real merits, i.e. relative content, and above all - blogs that really get you thinking!

Holidays Day 1

Yesterday was my first day of leave. I got up late, had breakfast (mushroom and goat's cheese omelette) at one of the local cafes and then went to Williamstown. I didn’t have much of a plan—I'm on holiday, after all—but I did remember to take my camera and binoculars with me.

Williamstown was just about deserted at 11 am on Monday. For a while, it was just me and the sea birds. Then some joggers turned up, followed by a couple of mums power-walking with three-wheeler prams and their kids cocooned in warm clothing. We all said good morning to each other in that polite way that I hope never goes out of fashion.

Despite the best attempts of the black swans to get their beaks on camera*, I managed to photograph some of the other local bird life. This pelican looked as if it were entirely fed up with the drizzle and the attention. (I'm still trying to work out how something without eyebrows can change expression.) It got bored with me after a while and went back to sleep. I'm sure it had a hot water bottle or two under its wings.

Further down the shore, about twenty little pied cormorants were perched in a row on the basalt boulders surrounded by a small flock of crested terns. By this time, the drizzle had turned to rain, so I got back into the car and headed for the nearest café for another coffee. Did I mention I was on holidays?
_____

* They're the equivalent of the kids who walk into shot on live broadcasts. I expect to download a set of photographs one day in which at least one frame features a swan carrying a sign that says Hi, Mum! and/or making rabbit ears behind an unsuspecting tern.

Did you know ?

Guadeloupe has the highest number of Jehovah's Witnesses per capita than any other country. (17.2025 per 1,000 people)

South Korea has more heliports than any other country

The US has the highest incidence of mortality resulting from a fall from a bed (450) but Hungary has the highest incidence per capita (14.3899 deaths per 1 million)

And while we're on the subject, in Egypt 8 people die from flatulence and related conditions each year. (It doesn't mention whether it's their own.)

Mexico exports $13,232.00-worth of radishes to the US each year.

Norwegians consume 10.7 kg of coffee a year.

Macau has the highest population density at 20,824.4 people per sqkm.

Brunei has the largest number of roller coasters per capita (80.567 per 10 million people)

Ecuador has the world's most expensive local phone calls.

And there's much, much more at Nationmaster.

A garden full of sparrows

House sparrows (Passer domesticus) and tree sparrows (P. montanus) visit my garden. I'm not particularly proud of having a yard full of introduced species but it is interesting to see them side by side. Photographing them is proving difficult because they're very jumpy. Once they spot any movement, they're off. The low light on this overcast day hasn't helped, either. But I did manage to get this passable shot of a tree sparrow before the flock made its getaway.

The two species are easy to tell apart. The males of both species have an inky bib, but the male tree sparrow sports a chestnut cap and a black patch on each cheek, whereas the house sparrow has a grey cap and no cheek patches. Male and female tree sparrows are similar. (Presumably they can tell each other apart.) Female house sparrows are less flamboyant than the males, lacking both bib and cap.

Robbery under wings: barbecue burglars and picnic pilferers

Look, I know that we make a big thing about our dangerous wildlife — spiders, snakes, blue-rings, box jellies and now sea lions — but birds don't usually appear on that list. They're rather benign.

Okay, the magpies get pretty thuggish when it's breeding season but who can blame them? And the masked lapwings also get in a snit if you approach too closely when they've got chicks. And then there was the recent incident where a couple of wedge-tailed eagles decided to see off an intruder — a paragliding enthusiast whose canopy they attacked with their massive talons.

Still, if we forget the magpies, lapwings and eagles, the rest of the avifauna is benign not malevolent.

Right. Until you fire up the barbecue or break open the picnic hamper.

If you're down by the beach, silver gulls cause the most havoc. No surprise there. After all, gulls are the street urchins of the bird world.

In city parks, white ibis mug small children for their sandwiches. They're experts at intimidating toddlers, being about the same height but armed with a long curved beak and an inscrutable stare. And they're quick. One moment your sandwich is in your hand, the next it's clamped in a beak with a grip like a pair of surgical forceps. No wonder white ibis are increasing in urban areas. They'll be muscling out the silver gulls next.

Brush turkeys are the picnic nickers par excellence of the east coast. They may not look terribly bright with their Stan Laurel 'hair' and banana-yellow wattles but they are as cunning as a shit outhouse rat. They're persistent — extraordinarily persistent — testing the defences repeatedly until they find a weakness. They're also expert at being decoys. One individual will distract you while the others leap onto the table. You might have enough time to mutter something about how clever they are before your picnic is ripped to pieces ... Remember the velociraptors in Jurassic Park? When Sam Neill referred to turkeys, he wasn't talking about Christmas lunch.

But even brush turkeys are rank amateurs next to emus. Never mind that they've been given some veneer of respectability by appearing on the Commonwealth's coat of arms. Emus are mad. They're the product of a Dr Moreau-type cross between Yogi Bear and Norman Bates. If you're having a meal outdoors in emu country, whatever you do, don't follow the example of a friend of mine.

We'd been for a walk at Tower Hill in SW Victoria. On returning to the car, we broke out the thermos and esky to have a cup of coffee and a sanger before heading off to the next destination.

My friend gestured at an emu. Why he felt the need to gesture, I have no idea. I'm not the most observant of people but even I couldn't miss the two-legged, crane-necked, shaggy-feathered mobile mountain of a bird heading towards us.

His mistake? He gestured with a sandwich in his hand. The bird saw the sandwich. As it chased him (and the sandwich) around the car all we needed was the Benny Hill theme to complete the scene.

Emus are good. Very good. But they're not too subtle. The perfect barbecue burglars are kookaburras.

Picture this.

It's a lovely autumn day. The sky is blue, a light breeze is stirring the crowns of the gum trees. The sausages are sizzling away on the hot plate. They're almost done. Just time to open another beer before they'e ready. Mmmm. They're looking good.

And then there's a rustle on a nearby branch. A shadow falls across the barbecue. Before you can react, a kookaburra swoops down and snatches a sausage from the hot plate. Right in front of you. The very one you've had your eye on for ages. The one that you've been waiting to stick inna bun with a dollop of coleslaw or sauerkraut or cheese or sauce. (Or all of them. It's a barbecue, after all.)

The kookaburra returns to its perch and beats the hell out of the sausage by smacking it against the branch, as if it were a snake. Or maybe it’s a novel way of letting the sausage cool ... No wonder kookaburras laugh. They've got us well-trained.

Son House

So I'm stuck in the 70s and 80s but I like Delta blues too.

[Son] House was born, the middle of seventeen brothers, in Riverton, two miles from Clarksdale, Mississippi. Around age seven or eight, he was brought by his mother to Tallulah, Louisiana after his parents separated. The young Son House was determined to become a Baptist preacher, and at age fifteen began his preaching career. Despite the church's firm stand against blues music and the sinful world which revolved around it, House became attracted to it and taught himself guitar in his mid-twenties ...

After killing a man, allegedly in self-defense, he spent time on Parchman Farm in 1928 and 1929.

John the Revelator (Trad., arr. House)


Death Letter (House)

I was searching BBC Radio 4's web page for something entertaining and enlightening. There were so many excellent programs, my only problem was to decide which of them I would listen to first. Then I settled on the perfect one, clicked the mouse and got this.

Forbidden.

The program? Open Book

May I recommend ...

... Detectives beyond borders, Peter Rozovsky's blog about international crime fiction. Plenty to read plus a good list of links to crime fiction sites all over the world.

Spiders in the house

With the onset of autumn (such that it is), the white-tailed spiders are maintaining a low profile. I haven't seen one about the house for ages. In fact, the Snail Shell has been largely arachnid-free for days now. Nary a spider to be seen, inside or out.

Until today, that is, when I noticed a daddy-long-legs (Pholcidae) doing a Hannibal Lecter on a Dindymus that had wandered into the kitchen. I had presumed that the bug's vivid coloration was a warning to predators, aposematic coloration advertising a toxic payload. (Certainly, these bugs flaunt themselves in a way that suggests they don't care if they're spotted.) But the spider wasn't bothered. It had wrapped its victim in a silk straight jacket and was slurping up the digested proteins.

Not an ex-blogger

Thanks to all who inquired after my health while I was absent fom the blogosphere. (Or Blogistan as one learned paper put it.) I've been washed away by the tidal bore of work. The Easter long weekend was delightful but it meant that a full week's work had to be crammed into fewer days. Not that much fun but also not so bad if you know what to expect ...

Anyway, at the end of each day last week, I was coming home, falling asleep on the sofa, waking up, having dinner and going to bed. Too tired to write, too tired to read, too tired to have an interest in things.

Now I'm on leave for a week. Of course, it will be filled with work-related activities*. I'm supposed to be picking up a new car on Wednesday, which should feel much more exciting than it does. I'm leasing it for two years, so I guess it's not really mine and that might contribute to the lack of enthusiasm. It's also taken four months to organise this. Don't get me started on that fiasco! However, if it does arrive on Wednesday (and I'm not holding my breath), I will be on the open road by Thursday. Not sure in which direction because I have to be back at work on Monday. Hmmm ... The Great Ocean Road is looking good.

_______

* Right now, I'm editing a manuscript. Not mine. It's a scientific paper on butterflies and it's a few pages too long. The author has cut it back as far as she can, so it needs a fresh eye to determine whether anything else can be pared away.

Ladybirds are go

Australia has plenty of native ladybirds, but this amorous pair belong to the European white-collared or spotted amber ladybird (Hippodamia variegata). First recorded in Australia in Gatton (SE Queensland) in 2000, the species is now widespread and is used in biological control of aphids and psyllids.

Although the background colour and the number and shape of the markings are variable, the white-collared ladybird is distinguished from native species by the white yoke on the pronotum (the 'shield' between the head and the wingcases).

Reference
Franzmann, B.A. (2002). Hippodamia variegata (Goeze) (Coleoptera: Coccinellidae), a predacious ladybird new in Australia. Australian Journal of Entomology 41 (4): 375 – 377.

What katydid

The nights are cool but the field crickets (Teleogryllus) are still singing. There's a chorus line of them between the shed and the back fence. I haven't managed to photograph any of the singers, because they turn bashful when I approach, but I spotted one of their cousins trying to look inconspicuous on the Daintree pine (Gymnostoma).

Pretty as they are, the inland katydids (Caedicia) tend to outstay their welcome in well-tended gardens. They can hang around for as long as they like at my place where their herbivorous diet won't have much impact. What's another row of nibbled flowers and leaves in the chaos of my backyard? Who could tell?


There are about 1000 species of katydids (family Tettigonidae) in Australia. The inland katydid is probably the most familiar—the species occurs just about everywhere, having been distributed around the country in nursery stock. Despite their abundance, the katydids aren't that easy to spot. The forewings are beautifully camouflaged with their colour, shape and texture all resembling those of young leaves. Unfortunately for this individual (but not for me), the camouflage doesn't work so well on she oaks. The colour's not bad, though. (But it's obviously not good enough—count the legs!)

I and the Bird #46

I and the Bird #46 is up at lovely dark and deep and, as always, it boasts a wide range of birdy blogs. Something for everyone. Don't miss it.

A day for sloth*

What a lovely day. I woke up early-ish. Returned to bed with a cup of tea and a book. Drank tea, read book, snoozed. Got up much later. Read. Went into Yarraville to stock up on supplies for the long weekend. Rang friends. Read. Had another snooze. And now I'm about to have dinner and will spend the rest of the evening reading.

Tomorrow, I'll be ready to face the non-work world with renewed vigour.

See you then.
______

* Not that sloths are all that slothful when it comes to food. I saw a group of them at Bristol Zoo who put on the most amazing turn of speed when the keeper entered the enclosure with a basket of leaves. Had I been the keeper, I think I would have thrown the food at them and fled. There was something just a little bit sinister about these curious, shaggy, large-clawed, inverted mammals converging on a lone human ...

Work is a three ring circus. One imagined by Roger Corman, admittedly, but a circus nonetheless. Still, only one more day to the long weekend. Then a very short week and a five-day break for me after that. Oh, and there's ANZAC Day on following Wednesday. But who's counting?*

I don't have much planned over the weekend. The first thing to do is to buy up big on Easter Bilbies. The second thing is to eat them. The third is to finish off a towering pile of overdue paperwork that is so thick and old it's turned to coal at the base. And the fourth is to nip up to Castlemaine on Monday to see my artist friend Rhyll. It's not a particularly ambitious plan but it's achievable.
______

* Me. I'm counting. That's only another 35 working days until the end of semester one.

The Doug Anthony All Stars were anarchic, puerile, tasteless and often riotously funny. This clip from the ABC's Big Gig (from some time in the late 1980s) shows them being all those things ... and a little bit more. If they're just too silly for you, skip through the first five minutes. But the punch line works best with the set up.

I miss the Big Gig.

Cafe Fidama

On Sunday, I caught up with friends from northern New South Wales. They were down in Melbourne for a few days, so we went out to lunch at Café Fidama in Ballarat Street, Yarraville. We had a whale of a time.

I have to put in a word for Fidama's delicious lemon tart. The rest of their food is great (including the licorice affogato) but their lemon tart is something else. If only they served breakfasts during the week, this would be my new favourite.

The April fool

Well, my most recent resolution lasted about three days. The nature blogging has already started to slip. That's what happens when work intervenes.

My working day started with an interminable meeting where everyone got snagged on the minutiae. Not on the sentences, not on the words, not even on the letters but on the serifs. (Metaphorically, that is. It wasn't a typesetters' convention.) The rest of the day wasn't any better.

Still, the long weekend is on its way and I'm on leave for a week from 16th to the 20th April. At least, I think I am. I haven't heard anything from my Head of School.

And I've decided to make a new resolution. One that's (slightly) easier to keep. I have to get through the day without swearing so much. But I'll start on Wednesday. Tomorrow might not be the best day to give up oaths—I've got three effin' meetings.