Gilded cicada

Not long ago, I commented that the rainforest cicadas were well regimented insects. Although the big northern greengrocers (Cyclochila virens) have calls so loud that Angus Young would tell them to turn it down, they restrict the chorus to a fifteen minute segment after dusk. There is no prelude and no encore. The start together and stop together. These cicadas are professionals.

But that was the start of the wet season. Things change. Now the rainforest is filled with the songs of another cicada. This one is just as loud but prefers freeform jazz to the greengrocers' disciplined chorales.

The golden emperor (Anapsaltoda pulchra) is a Wet Tropics endemic. It is most abundant on the Atherton Tablelands, but is known as far south as the Kirrama Range. The call is difficult to describe, but Max Moulds gives it a go in his book Australian Cicadas:

One of the most pleasant-sounding cicada calls, powerful, somewhat flute-like in tone, composed of a succession of rolling burst of sound to some extent bell-like in nature, each element initially loud then falling in volume.

Golden emperor (Anapsaltoda pulchra) at the edge of the rainforest

The specific epithet pulchra refers to the adult's beauty and the common name underlines it. From the turquoise eyes (olive green by day) to the emerald integument and golden sheen, this is a most regal cicada. As far as I'm concerned, it and its cohort can sing as loudly as they like and for a long as they like. I'm sure Angus Young would agree.





Reference
Moulds, M.S. (1990) Australian Cicadas. UNSW Press.

Siesta

What else is there to do on a hot afternoon? Although it's cooler on the Tablelands than on the coast, it can still get pretty warm in the middle of day. The pademelons have the right idea. When the weather's like this, the only sensible thing to do is take a nap in the shade.

Almost autumn

New leaves in the rainforest

More monarchs than a royal wedding

I was looking out of the window at just the right time to get a hat trick of monarchs (Monarchidae).

The first was a spectacled monarch (Monarcha trivirgatus), which I had previously stalked and photographed at Kingfisher Park near Julatten. Although the view wasn't quite as good as at Julatten, where the bird flitted through the leaves above my head, I didn't have so far to travel to see it. I took this photo from the living room window.



The second was the black-faced monarch (M. melanopsis). Although the two species look similar, they are not very closely related.(The spectacled is likely made up of a couple of species, of which one is sister to a black, grey and white New Guinea monarch. Bird phylogenies, eh?)




The third was a pied monarch (Arses kaupi), which deserves its generic name. Just as I pressed the shutter, the bird flew off. What should have been a lovely shot showing its handsome black and white plumage and gorgeous sky-blue flash around the eye became a blur. The trunk of the Melicope comes out looking nice. Because, you know, that's what I was photographing in the first place ...

The spider and the ant

Now that the Wet Season is here, there are no more great swarms of emerging insects. Termites and ants still turn up in dribs and drabs and there are smatterings of leafhoppers, but the wildebeest-like migrations from somewhere to my windows aren't happening anymore. I can go outside at night and not get covered in arthropods.

Well, almost. The period of abundance that followed the first rains has brought forth a second wave of creepy crawlies. My house is now home to so many spiders that the whole building appears to be enshrouded in spider web. Among these arachnid Christos are numerous red house spiders (Nesticodes rufipes).



This is a strongly synanthropic species found in warmer areas of the world. Their webs are messy structures often constructed in corners and under eaves. This one had built its web around an outside light, where it managed to snare an ant alate. The ant is about 2.5 cm (1 inch) long. Despite the difference in size, it was no match for the spider.

An unfortunate event

This pisses me off.

Someone ran over a pademelon the other day. This sort of this is almost entirely avoidable here. But some shit was driving too fast and skittled the poor little thing. This is only a few weeks after a tree kangaroo was found dead at the side of the road with puncture wounds, presumably from a dog attack.

The paddie that was killed lived on my property. On wet afternoons, she would shelter in her favourite spot next to the bay window, where the soil was dry and the wall provided a back rest. This one liked her comfort. She was also quite a talkative animal and would greet me in the morning with a sneeze, which I suspect was a request for some of my breakfast banana and pawpaw.

I don't have many photos of this one because it was difficult to keep her away from the lens. She would get too close. Paddies are inquisitive animals.

Back again!

Apologies for my absence. I've been contemplating stuff. And I find that I can no longer multitask as well I once could. I can contemplate or write but not contemplate and write. Throw the housework into the mix and you can see that's a recipe for disaster.

I haven't done much worth reporting since I last checked in. I went down to Townsville to catch up with dear friends. I had a lovely time but it was sooooo hot and humid on the coast that I won't be heading off the Tablelands again until the end of the Wet Season. I'm still trying to work out how I coped with those conditions for eleven years, especially without an airconditioner. Must be age. I was much younger then ...