TheBanyanTree: Sounds (and sights) of nature

[Woofie]

Good grief Anita! I was there last week, or rather just near you in St 
Andrews and Panton Hill. Have friends who live on top of hill at St Andrews 
and they got married in Panton Hill Winery. Folks... it is beautiful country 
up there. Currently it is all green and lush - a far cry from a few years 
ago during a 10 year drought and an horrific fire. Attached is pic of view 
off the country near Anita's. It is not an award winning photo, it is just 
green. The green in Victoria was mesmerising for me because it is in stark 
contrast to the grey dust of SW Australia.
W:)





-- 

Best regards,

Woofie mailto:woofie at woofess.com



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-----Original Message----- 
From: Anita Coia
Sent: Friday, March 23, 2012 3:48 PM
To: thebanyantree at lists.remsset.com
Subject: TheBanyanTree: Sounds (and sights) of nature

Thankyou Theta for that lovely piece 'Song of Spring' - I also enjoyed your
follow-up and related to the cacophony of sound that can wake you before you
really would like to be woken.   I have to admit I'm quite glad that we
don't have the coyotes lurking around, though some locals would have you
believe the mythical 'Aussie big cat' (some variation on a panther) is
lurking unseen in the undergrowth.  However I'm pretty sure that our
neighbours' pets who occasionally slip their confinements would not still be
around if that was true.



Since we moved to Kinglake, on the top of a mountain (Australian standard -
only about 550 metres above sea level) and surrounded by National Park and a
couple of large bush blocks, I have really been struck by how much you can
hear when there is no man-made noise to drown it out.



Some days, when the forest is still, I will hear a distant roaring sound,
much like an aeroplane heading our way, and then the leaves high in the
canopy in one group of trees will start to tremble and finally the gust of
wind will hit.  It's amazing to me that I can now actually hear a wind gust
heading our way!



At night we too have two or three different types of frogs yacking away
around our dam, particularly after a big rainfall.  It's very soothing to
hear them, even though it sounds like a party that just never ends.



Some mornings I wake to a 'whooshing' sound and leap out of bed to stand on
the deck and watch the passing hot air balloons, making their way across the
pink sky above the treetops as dawn breaks.



The birdlife is lovely too, with the populations slowly increasing in size
since moving back after the 2009 wildfire that destroyed much of the local
wildlife.  The magpies are used to us and we don't get swooped, but we do
hear them every day. Not so great is hearing the whinging of the young
magpies, who seem to be dependent on their parents for an inordinate length
of time, and follow them around begging for food.  When they are scouting
our rockery for breakfast just after dawn, I want to go out and wring their
necks!  The currawongs are much more pleasant to listen to, though adult
magpies also have a lovely warbling song.



The parrots are much more civilised and less piercing in their calls, apart
from the sulphur-crested cockatoos with their awful screeching - luckily we
don't see too many of them.  The King Parrots and Rosellas and others have a
much gentler call, and they seem to prefer a sleep-in.  We often see the
King Parrots waiting on our deck patiently for breakfast, even though we
rarely feed them. They seem quite interested in what we're doing and are
very tame.  There is one in particular that will walk right up to our glass
doors and tap on them.  If you take them some seed, the more experienced
ones will sit on your arm and eat it right out of your hand. Otherwise, they
eye off whatever we have left lying around on the deck, as if to say 'Well,
if you aren't going to feed us, I might take a bite of this shoe/jacket/rug
and see how I go.'



My favourite bird though, and the one we are least likely to see, is the
Lyre Bird, a really interesting creature and excellent mimic.  I know we
have a local pair, as we saw them when we moved here in early July last
year, and I know they take a hiatus over summer as the latest youngster is
being raised, and while the adult male is regrowing his tail, which falls
out just after breeding.  I think they usually start to make an appearance
again about now, with their calling most active during winter when courtship
starts again.  You always know you are listening to a lyre bird when you
hear a number of different bird calls emanating from a single spot, as
though one bird from each of many species were having a loud exchange about
local bird politics.  One of their favourite places seems to be our little
fern gully, which is nice and sheltered and has excellent acoustics, so they
can revel in their own delightful sounds.



Living up here also enlightened me to the fact that there are native
Australian cuckoo birds, which we have heard occasionally at night, along
with owls which we have not yet identified.



While we don't have coyotes, wolves or any other large canine-type
creatures, we do have foxes and deer and probably a few wild dogs and pigs,
though the fires may have cleaned them out.  I discovered a dead wallaby in
our paddock near the dam a couple of days ago, possibly the victim of one of
the Tiger Snakes that live around there.  There were no wounds that I could
see on what looked like an otherwise healthy wallaby with a thick, shiny
pelt.



Over the last couple of days, I have watched the carcase change orientation
and move slightly as what is probably a fox, and not a big one, tries to
drag the body off out of the open.  The fox is not having much luck. The
wallaby has moved barely half a metre, though it has done almost a full 360
degree turn as the fox tries to drag it by the head (I am guessing!).  The
problem for the fox is that he is trying to pull the carcase in the
direction of the fern gully, which means he will have to cross a drainage
ditch and a dirt and gravel driveway, and I can't see it being a very
successful enterprise.  The carcase is still intact, so it may in fact be a
female fox trying to drag the body to its den to feed its young.



Or possibly the Tiger Snakes have mutated and grown REALLY big and are
trying to stockpile food.  Ugh!   I am really not a fan of snakes, but it
puts my fear of huntsman spiders into perspective.  Tiger snakes are one of
the most venomous snake species in the world.  I believe they don't produce
huge quantities of venom, and will only bite when they feel they have no
other option, but the venom they do produce is highly toxic, containing a
cocktail of neurotoxin, coagulants, haemolysins and myotoxins, producing a
fairly serious and rapid attack on a number of bodily systems.  Untreated,
mortality is estimated to be 40-60% if you're an adult, but fortunately
pretty much all hospitals carry the antivenin.  You just have to get there.



It does lead me to wonder what kind of predator the Tiger snakes used to be
up against, that they would need such a vicious weapon.  They do prey on
frogs and hang around water sources, so maybe they were preyed on in ancient
times by some kind of giant Mesozoic water dweller.  During the 2009 fires,
some people sheltered in dams (and survived) but even in the face of a
bushfire I would hesitate to jump in with those snakes...



Anita