Day off...yes, again

I know.

I've only just returned from a break and I'm taking a day off. Well, I have to do stuff. Replace the car tyres, for a start, because they've been torn apart by the inadequate road surface. And then there's a whole load of administration. This office doesn't turn into a tip on its own. It needs my disorganisation skills.

Back tomorrow.

Jottings from the Tropics: 27 February 2012

I am thinking of making the brush turkeys pay rent. (Although I suppose they should be charging me, given that they were here first. I hope they don't read this.) It is raining, so they have abandoned the roof for the shelter of the house. Harry is on the patio, while the others are distributed along the front wall. I haven't checked the carport. I expect it is full of feathers and coated in poop.

A chick joined the adults for a short time. It had black plumage and a vertically-folded tail just like them, but the last wisps of down still clung to its head in a fluffy Mohawk. The adults gave it sidelong glances. It is not surprising that the young ones hang around together. Obviously the big ones just don't understand them.

- o O o -

A dry January was followed by an even drier February here. (This is not the case for other parts of coastal Far North Queensland. Or, indeed, for big areas to the west.). We have been experiencing hot mornings and afternoon storms, which are more characteristic of the build up than of the Wet. A lack of rainy season means that I haven't got very far through my rainy season library. I've finished Amitav Ghosh's Sea of Poppies and Daniel Woodrell's Outlaw Album and have started reading Richard Flanagan's Death of a River Guide,. I should have gone for something with more laughs.

- o O o -

The bridge opened on Saturday. It is not finished, but no one cares. Even without guide rails, it is still safer than the corrugated, potholed goat track that we've been forced to use since Christmas Day 2010. And now we're all off to buy new tyres and wash the fine red dust from the door seals. 

Save for web

I was looking for insects at the rainforest edge when I found this spider snug in a shelter that will never be featured on Grand Designs. But neither will it run over budget by a soul-destroying amount and prompt huge numbers of viewers to doubt the spider's grip on reality. So that's good news.

I don't know what sort of spider it is, other than a cute one. (Sure, it's not salticid cute, but it has its own green-skinned, bug-eyed charm.) (What? What's wrong with that?) The arrangement of eyes, particularly the size of the anterior lateral pair, suggests a crab spider (Thomisidae). But I have the same grip on arachnology that some of the Grand Designs participants have on project management. Make of that what you will.

As always, IDs offered will be gratefully received.

Jottings from the Tropics: 22 February 2012

After a long break, the brush turkeys have returned to perching on the roof. Once again, afternoons of bird song and distant lowing from the dairy herd across the river are disrupted by the clatter of large and not very effective wings, followed by thuds from above and the tapping of claws on tin. If you wish to leave the house, it is important to locate the roof-patrolling turkeys and then exit by the door on the opposite side. This avoids being showered in leaves and small twigs when the bird takes off in surprise. Also, turkey poop, which is glutinous and copious and freely supplied. Leaving by the wrong door is a mistake you only make once.

The turkeys have also taken to sunbathing on the drive, presumably as an act of civil disobedience in protest against the lack of garden care. It is as if they are trying to tell me that there are no other spots available because the ground is entirely covered in grass and seedlings. Well, I don't know. Everyone else complains about their ground-raking turkeys laying waste to metres of yard. I wish the birds would do that at my place. Lazy bloody wildlife.

- o O o -

Having been assured by someone at the council that the road crew would be spreading asphalt on the bridge today, I had a look at the construction site. The crew has, indeed, spread asphalt on the bridge and adjoining road. It looks like one long, glistening, black tarry carpet. We must be mere hours away from the bridge being re-opened, if only one lane for the moment. I will have to make an unscheduled run into town to try it out. Perhaps I'll leave it a day to avoid disappointment.

- o O o -

I am going to take a few days off because I am exhausted. I don't know why. It's not as if I am running marathons or pushing around a wheelbarrow full of bricks. There's no real reason for it, but I just am. So I'm going to do nothing much for the rest of this week and over the weekend to see if that helps. I'll be back on Monday, come hell or high water. Hopefully not high water because this place is at almost 800 m altitude and most of you would be in real trouble if that happened. Apologies for that. I'll see you soon.

Nesting occasionals

Red-browed finches (Neochmia temporalis) are the most recent distraction here. These tiny birds visit several times a day to collect grass stems from the overgrown edges of the garden. Also from the overgrown middle of the garden, but I don't think we'll talk about that.

Like other finch species, they are very busy birds. They announce their arrival with a series of high-pitched zeets and then get straight down to work. After a quick inspection of the vegetation, a bird selects a stem, plucks it or snips it from the plant and flies into the scrub.

Some of the stems are more than 60 cm long and trail behind the bird like an aeroplane's banner. The finches ascend in stages to about 4 m and then disappear into the rainforest. Wherever the nest is located, I hope the entrance is narrow enough to exclude catbirds.

Even though they sportingly let me know when they're around, the speed with which they conduct their business means I can't always get the camera set up in time. Still, fuzzy photos are marginally better than none and you should have seen the images I ditched. Even J.M.W.Turner would have shaken his head and sent me an email saying Y U NO FOCUS?

In addition to the nominate subspecies (Neochmia t. temporalis), which extends along the E and SE coast, there is a FNQ subspecies (Neochima t. minor). The latter occurs north of Townsville and is characterised by pale grey to white feathers on the underparts. Except in the very far north of its range, where it has dark grey on its head, apparently. But the two subspecies intergrade between the Townsville and Cooktown, so I have absolutely no idea which one I've got here. If not a hybrid. Not that it matters, because I'm merely watching them, not studying them. Estrildidae systematists, let me know if you can sort out this conundrum. I'm afraid all red-browed finches look the same to me.

No buzzing around like a...

...blue-ar...er...like a blue...um...like a fly.

Because it's my day off.

Jottings from the Tropics: 20 February 2012

A couple of young brush turkeys, which look exactly like miniature versions of the adults, ambled through the garden this morning. Well, they started off ambling, but they made the mistake of crossing Harry's path, so they ended up running frantically into the scrub. They must be slow learners because they did the same thing yesterday. I'll see what happens tomorrow.

- o O o -

I haven't seen many snakes so far this year. Most of my sightings have been of carpet pythons squashed on the road and I'm certain many of those weren't killed accidentally. I'm not sure whether the low number of observations is due to a lack of snakes or a lack of attention. I am not the most sharp-eyed person when it comes to macrofauna, although I am quite good at spotting snails. Now there's a talent I bet you all wish you had.

My life list of snakes is depressingly meagre. I have seen grass snakes and adders in Britain, a paradise tree snake in Indonesia and only thirteen species in Australia. (The paradise tree snake landed on my head, to the surprise of both parties, so that might give me extra points.) My best sighting was of a bockadam in a mangrove swamp in Singapore. I had wanted to add a king cobra to the list, but no one else was keen to go looking. I can't think why. I had compression bandages.

- o O o -

The red-browed finches are still collecting grass stems. I managed to get some fuzzy photos, which I'll post on Wednesday. (Tuesday is my day off.)

- o O o -

I haven't checked whether the bridge is open, but as I have to go into town tomorrow, I will find out soon enough. If it is not open, I will inquire at the Council offices. I might do that from the doorway in case the folk on the front desk are sick of fielding questions about it.

Sssssss ...snake!

Whenever I have to call in the tradies, I do a safety check before letting them near what needs to be fixed. This means watching out for the three Ss: stinging trees, snakes and spiders.

Stinging trees won't kill you. (Probably.) But the pain can persist for days, often weeks, sometimes months. At least one species of snake might kill you, but I've got a stack of compression bandages here and the ambulance station is only a few kilometres away. And the spiders will give you a bite sufficiently nasty to cause a headache and prompt some retellings of urban legends, but that's about it. (Oddly enough, the most extreme reaction I've encountered from a tradie was over a huntsman spider that was sitting, minding its own business, on a sheet of tin.) But it's better to do the check and move along the wildlife, wherever possible, than run the risk of having to find someone else to fix the hot water system/plumbing/roof etc etc. Oh, and I don't want anyone to get injured.

Fortunately, the wildlife is predictable. Snakes, in particular, seem to have their preferences. Pythons like the roof, green tree snakes like the pipes around the hot water system, and small-eyed snakes like the shed. I haven't seen brown tree snakes/night tigers on this property, but experience tells me they like the spokes of garden umbrellas. So don't stick your head under the parasol while you're opening it. (No, don't thank me. I'm doing this as s a public service.)

Snake in repose
Beautiful plumage scales, the small-eyed snake

Snake getting pissed off by camera.

The nocturnal small-eyed snake (Rhinoplocephalus nigrescens) is a common rainforest species. I had an uncomfortably close encounter with one while it was out hunting for skinks and I was wandering around without adequate footwear.Apparently tiger snake anti-venom works with bites from this species, so that's a useful thing to know. An even more useful thing to know is that adequate footwear prevents bites in the first place.

I believe there are people who think that the only good snake is a dead one. I'm quite happy to see snakes around the place. My only criterion for 'good snake' is one that hasn't bitten me. I like to keep things simple.

Jottings from the Tropics: 19 February 2012

Harry the brush turkey is almost back to his old self. A season of mound-building and mellow temperature testing has resulted in a brood of self-sufficient chicks, so he has returned to strutting about the garden and chasing off other turkeys. He is still trying to break through the flyscreen on the kitchen door. Mostly, he does this when I am not looking, but yesterday he gave the screen a defiant peck while I was standing in front of it. I threatened him with a spatula. I might have to buy a wooden spoon.And then there's the red balaclava and the yellow cravat.

- o O o -

Female Ulysses butterflies have been laying eggs on the Melicope bonwickii in front of the house. If the eggs were not so far up the tree, I would collect them to protect them from parasitoids and marauding gangs of scrubwrens. You can't have too many Ulysses butterflies, I say. The Melicope might not agree. But then it can get its own blog and complain about all those insects taking its leaves. There's nothing stopping it. Well, apart from the lack of an internet connection and possibly the lack of digits. Anyhoo...

Female Ulysses are not as glitzy as their male counterparts, but neither are they dowdy. One of the egg-layers was chased by a blue triangle yesterday. The triangle was about half the size of the Ulysses. It looked as though they were having they were having a blue. [Ed:— What is this I don't even...] [I thought it was funny.] [Ed:— Yes. Yes, I expect you did.]

- o O o -

Although it was almost certainly nothing of the sort, I like to think I had a rare moment of direct communication with a pademelon. Red was grazing near the patio. When he looked towards me, I saw he had a leaf fragment stuck to his nose. I tapped my own nose and made a brushing motion. And then he did exactly the same. It's doubtful he could even see me that well, but it made me laugh.

- o O o -

And on the subject of pademelons, there were two newbies in the garden this morning. Both of them were youngsters a little bit bigger than Pip. They were cautious, but not hugely disturbed by my presence. I wonder if these are rescued joeys? I've encountered those before and they don't always do well.

By degrees

I can't even remember what I was searching for when I stumbled across the Royal Geographical Society of Queensland's Queensland by Degrees site. And then I spent too much time there. Prompted by the global Degree Confluence Project, Queensland by Degrees aims to summarise the natural, social and cultural histories of each degree square in the state.

There are gems to be found here, even just by clicking at random on the map

From the Lockhardt River (Cape York Peninsula) square:

One of the pioneers of road transport on the Cape is commemorated by a monument outside the Archer River Roadhouse. Thora Daphne 'Toots' Holzheimer was said to have been the first in after the wet season and the last one out at the end of the dry - one of the 'characters' of this remote area.

The plaque on the memorial has the following epitaph:

We have a legend here on the Cape, 

We relied on her to bring our freight. 

When the rain started to ease, 

The dust must fly, 

And Toots was always the first 

To give it a try. 

Over the hills and gullies, 

Her truck started to move, 

With the heat and the flies, 

She always came through. 

She's left us now, 

But her legend lives on. 

So chin up there mate, 

And keep moving on.

Essex Downs in North Central Queensland

The majority of the population live in Richmond which had a population of 554 at the 2006 census. Richmond has a good range of basic services and retail outlets. The Richmond area is rich in fossils and the Richmond Marine Fossil Museum, Kronosaurus Korner, is a popular tourist stop. The replica of the Richmond Pliosaur, a 5 m long marine reptile, is a key attraction.

(And the best known Kronosaurus queenslandicus skeleton is on display at the Museum of Comparative Zoology at Harvard University. Not that there are any hard feelings about it, you understand. From the Australian Museum, Sydney:

The skeleton on display at the MCZ (nicknamed 'Plasterosaurus') is one-third plaster, and liberties have been taken in reconstructing its size. The reconstructed skeleton, although impressive, is 12.8 metres long, about three metres too long. The modeled skeleton took almost thirty years to produce, the original bones having been discovered in 1931.)

Cameron Corner, where the borders of Queensland, New South Wales and South Australia meet:

The corner is named after John Cameron, NSW Geodetic Surveyor, who carried out the survey of the 29th Parallel in 1879-1880...Conditions were very difficult, with flooded rivers and creeks, dense scrub, illness, lack of drinking water, and shortage of grass for the horses in places. Due to a lack of stones at the Corner, it was not possible to build an obelisk. The surveyor placed a post and mound at that point.

Lucky about the post. How cheesed off would you be if you'd done all that work, only to find out you couldn't mark the spot?

And here is 'my' degree square. Somewhat different from the Outback. Still, there's a whole lot of big landscape and open sky to the west and south west that I'd really like to see. Maybe soon.

Jottings from the Tropics: 18 February 2012

The red-browed finches are building again. They visit my garden because it contains plenty of nesting material. I am not one for keeping things tidy. Some of my neighbours have slashed and mown their gardens into the sort of temporary submission that just encourages vegetation to fight back. The price of a lawn in the Wet Tropics is eternal vigilance. Those lawns certainly look beautiful, but so does a red-browed finch trailing a long grass stem as it flies to its new nest. And I can get the finches for far less effort.

- o O o -

Oh, that sounded smug.

- o O o -

Peaceful doves are usually everywhere except rainforest, but when it has been dry and warm here for a few days they often drop in. When I lived in Townsville, it was difficult to avoid them. More than once I’ve almost trodden on a dove that could not be bothered to move when I approached. They are like short-beaked, grey-feathered, cooing flies, although they don’t often land on you, they rarely explore the bin and no one manufactures fast knockdown dove spray. So not really like flies at all. But they are ubiquitous and reluctant to shift.

In Townsville, that is. Here, they take flight the instant you think about taking a photo. One moment, a peaceful dove is standing in a patch of sunlight, looking like a pastel sketch with its neat black bars on a warm grey background and a smudge of pale blue around the eye. And the next moment, it’s gone. Who would imagine that peaceful doves could be so difficult to photograph?

- o O o -

A very large mosquito flew into the house today. I was surprised it didn’t make a thump when it landed on the desk next to the computer, because the insect was about 15 mm long. The size should have been enough of a clue, but I also got a good look at it: Toxorhynchites. Fortunately for me — and it — adult Toxorhynchites are not blood-feeders, but take nectar and plant juices. The larvae prey on other mosquito larvae, which gets a thumbs up and a very gentle pat on the back from me. If I see it again, I’ll try to get a photo before I usher it outside.

Like a lichen

Living in the rainforest, as any fule kno, is entirely different from working in it. With the strict time limits of research, you have to focus on your target taxa. There's usually not much opportunity to look at other things. But when you live in the forest, you can...ooh, look, there's a butterfly...I don't know what it is...where's my book...ah, it's one of those. Okay, what was I saying?

The rainforest is full of stuff about which I have no idea. Not a clue. Not even the merest inkling. Fungi, mosses, lichens and liverworts are complete unknowns to me, but they are on my list of Things To Study. As you can imagine, this list increases daily. And so does yours. I know. Don't try to pretend you're not interested in stuff.

I have fungi books. I have a copy of David Meagher and Bruce Fuhrer's Field Guide to the Mosses and Allied Plants of South Australia, which won't necessarily let me get the local mosses and liverworts to species, but will help me work out what characters are important. (The Australian National Botanic Gardens and the Australian Biological Resources Study also have some useful web sites on liverworts, mosses and lichens.) I have a x10 hand lens (but no dissecting microscope). I have a rainforest. Right, all I need is time. Oh, and a dissecting microscope.

Here's what a found in a few minutes along a couple of metres of fallen timber in the back garden. This is going to be a big job.

First the fungi...The ones I could see, anyway.

Then the lichens and bryophytes — liverworts and mosses. (Notice how vague I am about what's what? I think photos 2 to 4 below are lichens, 5 is a liverwort and 6 is a moss, but I ain't staking anything on it. Oh, all right, if you push me, I'll say that 6 is definitely a moss. With a small lichen. Or is it a liverwort?)
 

And you know what makes it worse? There are animals associated with every one of those groups. Flies and other insects on the fungi. Springtails on the bryophytes. Even tardigrades. Tardigrades! Now what's not to love about those little critters?

Yep, I need a few more lifetimes. Or more coffee. No, I need both.

Jottings from the Tropics: 17 February 2012

I woke before sunrise this morning and lay in bed watching the microbats flitting around the back garden. I don’t see them much at dusk and see them rarely at night, so it was lovely to watch them cleaning up the insects. There were at least two species, judging by different sizes, and they were zipping in and out of Birnam Forest along the side of the house.

- o O o -

I have recovered from my momentary confusion between Thursday and Friday. It made me wonder how the Doctor manages to keep track of the days, what with all his travelling backwards and forwards in time, which, as we all know, is ‘not a strict progression of cause to effect but...more like a big ball of wibbly wobbly, timey wimey stuff’. Still, I suppose you get used to that sort of thing after 900+ years of it. Although...how is that measured? I mean, all those planets with different sidereal periods. Not to mention the occasional trips into parallel universes and the odd reboot of this one. Really, I can’t even keep track of Thursday.

- o O o -

Once again, Little Poss has stopped visiting. He must be answering the call of the wild. A couple of possums engaged in some marsupial argy-bargy on top of the house yesterday. It ended when one them jumped — or was pushed — off the roof. The grounded possum wandered away as if nothing happened, then scampered up a nearby tree to a branch that was higher than the roof, where it spent the rest of the evening looking down on its opponent. I’m not sure if that’s a win or a loss.

- o O o -

A pair of white-headed pigeons visited the garden yesterday. I’d heard them calling during the week, but that was the first time I’d seen them on this property. Apart from the Papuan frogmouth, there have been no more additions to the bird list lately. I must nip out to Hastie’s Swamp to see if I can add any waders to the tally.

- o O o -

A brush turkey is kicking at the kitchen door, trying to open it. Every time I turn around, the bird stops kicking and starts preening in a why-are-you-looking-at-me-I’m-not-doing-anything fashion. I expect that it will begin complaining that I’m always blaming it for something. If it had a room, I would send it there to think about what it’s done. Excuse me while I encourage it to kick another turkey.

Music for Writing

Flowers/Icehouse from...ahem...1981


Walls




Sister




Icehouse (video by Russell Mulcahy)

Tablelands on Friday: Yungaburra, Part 2

Back to Yungaburra, the Gateway to the Atherton Tablelands. (If you're driving up the Gillies Highway, otherwise it's Kuranda, Millaa Millaa, Ravenshoe, Herberton or Mareeba. Just covering all possibilities. You can't accuse me of being Southocentric.)

I: St Patrick's Catholic Church (1913) sits at the top of the hill overlooking Eacham Road. This photo from the website of the Catholic Diocese of Cairns shows the side of the building, giving an excellent view of the single skin, exposed frame construction common in older buildings in the Queensland tropics.

J: The Gables (1912) was the residence of the manager of the Bank of New South Wales. It is now a B & B.

K: St Mark's Anglican Church was established in 1912 by the Brotherhood of St Barnabas. Founded in 1902 in Herberton, the bush brothers provided pastoral care to remote communities.The Bishop of North Queensland, impressed with their efforts, undertook a recruiting drive in the UK in 1908 with the call:

O for a band of men that will preach like apostles, ride like cowboys, and having food and raiment, will therewith be content.

L: Wild Mountain Distillery is up for sale. If you fancy turning your hand to making booze in a beautiful mountain town, here's your chance.

M: The sawmill was opened in 1910 to process timber cut from Tablelands forests. The arrival of the rail line allowed huge amounts of timber to be shipped from the area. (Previously, the only transport was bullock or horse cart and plans to float timber down the Barron and Johnstone rivers were stymied by barriers like this Although people did try.) The railway line closed in 1963 and the sawmill in 1988.

N: Eacham Road/Kehoe Place shops.

O: The Yungaburra Butchery (1926) was built to sell meat from the Williams slaughterhouse. Although the slaughterhouse is long gone, the butcher's shop continues to provide local produce to the town. It has its own smokehouse and is also known for its award-winning sausages. I haven't tried the snags, but they will be on next week's shopping list.

Right. That's yer bloomin' lot for Yungaburra this week. It's a lovely place to visit. And it's a lot cooler than the coast.

The problem with time travel

Dear oh dear oh dear

I thought it was Friday, so I was doing Friday stuff. And then I realised that it was, in fact, Thursday. Mind you, I didn't realise that until a few minutes ago. So I don't have a Thursday post ready to go. So...er...

I don't know how this happened, because I'm working with two diaries, the clock on my computer and the  fridge calendars provided by Mr Knuth and Mr Katter. They all tell me that it's Thursday. Even the Katter one. In my defence, I'm feeling unwell and spent much of today (and a good bit of yesterday) sprawled on the sofa.

I noticed — in what was a clearly semi-delirious state — that pressing a white lace handkerchief to your forehead and staggering to the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of water doesn't generate any sympathy from the wildlife. The brush turkeys still try to kick open the kitchen door and Pip remains unimpressed.

Back tomorrow. Possibly in normal condition. But nobody run a book on that, okay?

Jottings from the Tropics: 15 February 2012

I heard the Papuan frogmouth again last night. That’s the second evening in a row. I have no plans to go wandering around the scrub in the middle of the night with a spotlight trying to locate the bird — far too many stinging trees — but if it nudges the lesser sooty owl and possums off the roof, I’ll be there with the camera.

(A Papuan frogmouth looks like a tawny frogmouth on steroids — as big as a sulphur-crested cockatoo and with jewel red eyes. Barbara and Allen at Wild Wings & Swampy Things have a photo of one nesting at their place near Daintree. Here’s another photo from the Wet Tropics Management Authority. If it does nudge the other animals off the roof, I’ll be sure to know about it.)

- o O o -

While in town yesterday, I ran into a succession of friends and neighbours. This allowed me to catch up on all the news and gossip, although there wasn’t much of either, this being a small town and not Sun Hill. (We are still talking about the time that some young fella tried to mug an eighty year old woman outside the supermarket. She whacked him with her handbag, pushed him over and probably would have given him a good kicking if others hadn’t intervened. That was almost three years ago and it has yet to get old.)

In the course of a conversation, one friend did tell me that before she goes for a swim in the river, she fetches her broom and gives the rocks a sweep. That’s the ones under water, not the ones on the bank. This reminded me of a friend at uni who was doing his PhD on the invertebrate fauna of waterfalls. Whole communities are adapted to living on vertical rock faces in very high flow regimes — crazy critters with gripping feet and great big suckers to hold them in place, because it’s a long way uphill if you slip.Especially if you're only 8 mm long.

As you can imagine, it is difficult to study these animals. My friend sampled them by rappelling down a waterfall and using a brush to sweep them into a collecting container not unlike a dustpan. When a couple of backpackers asked him what he was doing, he told them that the council paid him to keep things neat for the tourists. They went away happy and so did he.

- o O o -

They tell me that the bridge will be open by Friday. Not any old Friday. Not some random Friday on the downhill side of Easter, whenever that is. But this Friday. Tomorrow.

I will refrain from further comment on this matter until Saturday.

A moth convention

There is much to be said for indolence. Had I cut back the fishtail lawyer vine (Calamus caryotoides), I would have missed this jolly gathering of moths.

At first I thought that the large, brightly-coloured moth near the leaf base was a female and the others were smaller males lined up on the starting grid. But a search through CSIRO's Australian Moths Online makes me think that they belong to different species in the family Crambidae,. As far as I can tell, the entire group is made up of small- to mid-sized moths that are very similar in external appearance, so, were I wearing a cap, I'd doff it in admiration of the lepidopterists that have worked and continue to work on the systematics of this group.

The closest match for the larger one is Margarosticha euprepialis, and for the smaller ones, Tetrernia terminitis. Small and large are relative terms. The moth in the image below has a wingspan of 14 mm.

This group of moths lays eggs on submerged rocks and leaves. The caterpillars are wholly aquatic, spinning silk shelters or sticking together fragments of vegetation to protect themselves from predators. Adults emerge from their cocoons under water and make their way to the surface to dry, before flying off to begin their short but exciting existence on land.

BunyipCo has blogged on this group of moths and has photos of these and other species from Far North Queensland. You can see pictures of caterpillars and their shelters at the Murray - Darling Freshwater Research Centre's bug guide.

I forgot it was my day off

I know, I know. Who could forget that?

I will write a note in my diary so I don't make that mistake again.

Jottings from the Tropics: 13 February 2012

Another quiet day here. Hot, too. I managed to scare two pademelons that were snoozing in the shade. The first was Pip, who I didn’t see while she was asleep in the long grass. She hurtled away, only to skid to a halt (literally), when she realised it was me and not anything frightening. For the rest of the afternoon, she made a big thing of not moving whenever I walked past. This will be her undoing, I fear.

The other pademelon was Red. He turned up this morning after a few days’ absence, looking a bit the worse for wear. Given the state of him, I suspect he was in the lock up all weekend. He staggered over to the azalea and flopped down in its shade. The ground is carpeted with Pandorea there, which makes cool bedding on a hot day.

I should have left him alone, but I could not see him breathing. I would rather not have paddies dropping dead only a few metres from the house. Untidy, smelly, attracts the wrong sort of visitors. He did not stir when I approached. I could not see his sides moving. I tried a polite cough. No response. And then I pinched the tip of his tail. Oh, that got a reaction. He was not happy. In future, I will let the flies determine whether an animal is sleeping or not.

- o O o -

On the subject of living daylights and the scaring out thereof, I had a surprise this morning when I collected turn in the wind leaves from a tree near the house. The tree is next to a fallen branch that I really should do something about. And probably will, when the fungus on it stop being so darned photogenic. Because I was concentrating on the tree and not the timber, I didn’t notice a mid-sized spotted tree monitor basking in a tile of sun. The usually vigilant tree monitor didn’t notice me, either, until I was almost on it. Then it scuttled off making such a racket that I was convinced I was about to be eaten by the last surviving Megalania.

Once again, I blame the weather.

- o O o -

A while ago, I blogged about the rainforest tree Siphonodon membranaceus, which has a fruit that looks as though it has been carved out of bone. I left one of those fruit in the garden for the rats and possums and paddies, little expecting them to do anything with it. I now have loose seeds. Or what I think are seeds encased in endocarp. Maybe they are slivers left over when the animals got bored. I will plant them and see.

Turn in the wind

Turn in the wind (Mallotus paniculatus, family Euphorbiaceae) is in fruit.

The leaves twist in the slightest breeze, showing the pale lower surface — a strong contrast to the emerald green above. A close up look reveals the dense hairs that cover the veins.

Two glands at the base of the leaf provide nectar to encourage ants to visit. In some plants, leaf damage increases production from extra-floral nectaries.

A common species at rainforest edges, it occurs along the Queensland coast from the Mackay region to Torres Strait. (See map below.) It is also found throughout Malesia and SE Asia.

Specimen data reproduced from Australia's Virtual Herbarium
with permission of the Council of Heads
of Australasian Herbaria Inc

I was going to take more photos, but a pademelon ate the leaves. Paddies love turn in the wind leaves, as do possums. Here's more evidence if you need it. (Warning: Contains cuteness.)

Jottings from the Tropics: 12 February 2012

I spent more time than was necessary yesterday trying to put a name to a little brown bird. LBBs are tricky enough when they’re out in the open, but in a rainforest they are almost impossible. It was not a brown gerygone. It was not a scrubwren of the Atherton or large-billed variety. And it was certainly not a white-browed or yellow-throated scrubwren — yellow-scroted thrubwren, as it is known around here thanks to a friend’s delightful Spoonerism. Unless it reappears on my window sill, I will have to leave it as an LBB. I have quite a collection of them.

The birding is lacklustre here at the moment. The tooth-billed bowerbird is still singing, although he is noticeably unenthusiastic about it, and the spotted catbirds seem to have given up altogether. When they stop off at the Melicope during their afternoon circuit, they give a few ‘tink’ calls and that’s yer lot. No yowling duets or vigorous vocal duels with neighbouring pairs. And the quandongs have finished blooming, so the honeyeaters and lorikeets have moved on to the Buckinghamia. I haven't seen them, but no doubt they gorging themselves on the bounty from those exuberant blossoms.

- o O o -

Butterflies are compensating for the low bird diversity. In addition to the usual suspects —birdwings, triangles, bush-browns and jezebels — iridescent blue Ulysses flit through the garden in the company of wanderers, hamadryads and a large number of unidentified yellow butterflies. These last ones might be lemon migrants, but I have yet to spot one when my binoculars are to hand. The butterflies are almost luminous, the colour of a canola field on a sunny day. Half the pleasure of butterfly watching lies in their names. I would like to see a pearl owl, otherwise known as Artemis owl, but that lives only on the Torres Strait islands and the tip of Cape York Peninsula. Perhaps I should start a butterfly list.

- o O o -

One of my neighbours has replaced his flock of Wyandotte chooks with Australorps, which are glossy black. This is going to be very confusing for the brush turkeys.

Gold spider

This tiny (3 mm) jumping spider was patrolling narrow-leaf ginger fronds in search of prey.

Jumping spiders (family Salticidae) are the cutest arachnids. Not that they have a lot of competition. Arachnids are fascinating, spectacular, perhaps a bit scary, but few of them deserve the adjective 'cute'. With their big puppy dog anterior median eyes, salticids are the sort of spiders that you might want to tickle under the chin. (Having said that, net-casting spiders also have big eyes, but are not exactly winsome. Arachnophobes, you might like to skip that link.)

Salticids have exceptional vision. The ability to discriminate colour varies between species, but it is thought that all salticids can detect ultraviolet light (as can many insects and some birds).

Jumping spiders also engage in complex courtship behaviour. This short video by Wayne Maddison tells the whole story. It's worth watching through to the end.



Jumping spiders are difficult to identify. For non-specialists, that is, although I wouldn't be at all surprised if salticid experts sometimes throw up their hands and let the odd curse word slip out before packing it in for the day and heading to the nearest bar, where they draw pictures of spider parts in the spilled beer on the table tops and vow to work on golden orb-weavers. I don't know. I am not a salticid expert. Still, the absence of the slightest clue has never stopped me from doing anything before. A quick scan of the internet for a match for the gold spider has pointed me in the direction of the subfamily Simaethinea. If any arachnologists are reading this, please let me know if I am on the right track.

You can see more photographs of Australian jumping spiders on Ed Nieuwenhuys' Salticidae page.

Unscheduled day off

I think I need a bit of down time.

I'll be back tomorrow. Until then, here's a photo of the giant plastic weevil —  the very fine giant plastic weevil, I'm sure you'll agree — that proved irresistible to a brush turkey chick. In the background, a brush turkey adult that managed to resist it.

Jottings from the Tropics: 10 February 2012

So there I was, flashing a spotlight at the fireflies, hoping to get a response, when I discovered that I was signalling to a bunch of walkers wearing head torches. They didn't answer. I'm not sure if I should be offended, especially when the fireflies ignored me too.

- o O o -

After I mentioned his prolonged absence in yesterday's jottings, Red turned up this morning. This leads me to believe that he reads the blog. I’m not sure how he manages it. There is no wireless reception here.

- o O o -

The graders were working on the road leading up to the bridge today. With any luck, the bridge will be open by the end of February, fourteen months after its closure. In the meantime, the goat track detour is deteriorating rapidly. It is a scene from a Hammer horror movie, the surface crumbling away like a vampire in daylight. Except that daylight isn’t the problem. The problem is poor construction and a lack of maintenance. But it was a dodgy metaphor + simile combination anyway. Let’s forget I wrote it.

I was driving along the road at lunchtime when a short but very intense storm swept through. Sheets of water covering the potholes. (I must have hit every one). Streams of mud flowing down the inclines. And then a floodway at the end.

Oh, I am looking forward to voting in the forthcoming local council elections.

Music for Writing

If you're familiar with Cold Chisel, this selection will either make you feel young or old. There is no in between.


Choirgirl (1979)




You Got Nothing I Want (1981)




Forever Now (1982)

Tablelands on Friday: Yungaburra, part 1

The town of Yungaburra (population 1030) grew from a rest stop for miners on their way up to the tin and gold fields to the north and west. Today it is a farming community and a popular hill station for visitors from the coast, who want to escape the summer heat.


View Larger Map

Originally called Allumbah, the name was changed in 1910 to avoid confusion with Aloomba, a town near Gordonvale. (Not long before, a cargo ship bound for Geraldton, Western Australia, had docked at Geraldton, Queensland. The latter was renamed Innisfail to stop that sort of thing happening again.)

European settlement began in a serious way in the 1890s.  The first permanent residence went up in 1903. Five years later, it was demolished to make way for the railway line, permanence having a looser meaning in those days. Many of the buildings from that early wave of settlement are still in use.

I'll take you on a tour of town. This will have to spread over two posts, because there are a lot of pictures.  (Apologies for the quality of some of the images.Today was very overcast. And then it rained. And I got very wet.)

A: The Country Women's Association (CWA) Hall is one of the newer buildings in the centre of town. It was constructed just before World War II.

B and C: The Whistle Stop Cafe is in the former Bank of New South Wales (1912). The Lake Eacham Hotel (Yungaburra Pub) opened in 1910 and expanded in 1926. (The figs in front of the pub are a good place to spot fig parrots, but don't park under them when the trees are in fruit.)

D: Cedar Street is lined with many of the older buildings. The stores date back to the mid 1920s. The pharmacy occupies what was once a tailor's shop. The pump and irrigation store (surely the most picturesque in Australia) is in the old billiards saloon and hairdressers. If there is a better combination of uses, I'd like to know about it. (Regulars to the Tablelands will remember it as the Burra Inn, which was also a very fine use of the building.)

E: Further along Cedar Street are the former auctioneer's office and the cafe that serviced the Tivoli Cinema. These are single skin buildings with exposed framework, a common construction technique in tropical Queensland.

F: The Community Hall was built in 1910 on the other side of the pub. It was moved to Cedar Street in 1925. The stone fire wall was constructed when the cinema opened in the Hall in 1928. (The writing on the car says I hope I get to heaven B4 the Devil knows I'm dead.)

G: The Post Office went up in 1926. (Sorry about the bins.)

H: Police stations all over rural and regional Queensland look like this. The current police station once doubled up as a cop shop and a courthouse. Despite a constable being appointed in 1913, there was no dedicated justice building until 1921. The government had decided that there were simply not enough people in the area to justify forking out for a brand new courthouse. They could all go to Atherton and be happy about it. This incensed the locals. As a compromise, the old Yungaburra school (built 1909) was dismantled and reconstructed on site. The copper, the clerk of petty sessions and the dairy inspector all had their offices in the building.

There are many other lovely timber buildings along Cedar Street, but most of them are private residences, so I didn't take photos. You can look at them on Google Street View. Next week, I'll take you for a stroll along Eacham Road, Yungaburra.