Nature's Place

 
To successfully stalk and capture anything it is necessary to know something about its behaviour, its habits or predispositions. To know anything about a Dragonfly’s ways I observe – the best I can without the distraction of unnecessary thought.

A relaxation of the eyes, a pulling back inside, is also necessary since they usually move too fast and unpredictably to actually track against the often cluttered and matching coloured backgrounds they move in. At least where I find them, in the coastal wetland forest of Billinudgel NR.

There are a few locations I know now where the Dragonfly favours hunting and basking in the sun. At different times of the day they can be found at one place or another. It’s not entirely predictable when they have so many suitable places to be. The time of day also seems to determine how active or relaxed they are, not unlike people.

At one of these places I was quietly and slowly approaching a perched Dragon when off into the darkness of the bush he went. It helps that they have a habit of favouring a perch but when there are many suitable perches the habit disappears. They do that. Land, sit a few seconds or minutes – as long as it takes for me to get in position, then off to another spot, near or far. It tests me for any wanting, trying or disappointment.

As soon as the Dragon took off though a robust looking butterfly landed in almost the exact same spot – in the forest. You couldn’t ask for it. I got a few good shots of it before it too took flight, but before it did another bigger butterfly landed just a few inches in front of it.

It stopped just long enough for me to focus and shoot twice. And both shots came out ok. As I said, you couldn’t ask for it.

*

Back to Dragons though. None of these creatures stand still for long when the sun is high, that’s feeding time and they seem to spend it high in the air – as high as twenty feet that I’ve seen – about as high as the treetops – feeding height? It’s also mating time. And basking time. But when isn’t? Night time?

Seemingly they only stop to rest and sense what’s around them, or be, being a dragonfly.

Somehow I just can’t see them thinking; ‘Jeez, that bird nearly got me that time, gotta be more careful crossing that creek in future.’ – or – ‘Damn, missed it, what am I going to eat now, if I’m hungry I’ll be weak and distracted and might fly into a web or tree, or something – could be fatal – I don’t want to die!’ Or thinking anything at all!

I’d say experience is directly imprinted on their psyche, no conscious evaluation, no reflection – spontaneous absorption and integration according to an unknowable – to the thinker – intelligence. Certainly no complicating emotional or mental consideration – no suffering. In my observation.

*

Sometimes the small creatures just don’t mind me, an increasingly large and strange object in their view, getting closer – as close as five to twenty inches a lot of the time due to the lenses I use.

The impact of my appearance is minimised by me lowering myself closer to the ground the closer I get to the creature, so I don’t necessarily appear to get much bigger and loom over them and so perhaps threaten them. Bowing to them you could say, bowing to their sensibilities.

I have often observed the Dragon preening itself with the two most forward legs or arms that it has tucked up most of the time against the back of its huge eyes. Have you ever seen how clean a Dragon keeps the back of its head? Pristine clean behind the ears! Almost. And the robotically rapid turn of the head as potential prey passes by just too fast for it to do anything about. Magnificent creatures.

In flight they often glide after a quick flutter of the wings, especially if there is a breeze to support them – conserving energy. And they are quick to chase one another, the bigger ones have their own territory which they guard very effectively. The smaller ones have to tussle over it, but briefly – no harm done – none I can see.

*

Photographing small creatures can be a real effort at times. Once they have been tracked to their favoured places, which isn’t always possible, the real work begins. They just don’t pose that often in the wild, where I mostly shoot. So it is necessary to get in position for the angle of shot and stealthily – with minimum noise and discernible movement or presence – approach them, sometimes directly, sometimes roundabouts.

It’s not unlike a game of hide and seek, except insects are much smaller than anything I ever had to find when I played that. Often the only clue to their position is a slight movement in the corner of my eye, rarely a sound. Or it’s a game of patience – absence of impatience really – being easy inside and just seeing what is there. It’s a surrender of anything inside that disturbs or intrudes on the actual purpose – being where I am. Photo’s are secondary, always, that’s the perception.

*

Once I get to know my equipment, and keep it ready and clean – inside and out, then it’s just a matter of being. Being within the fact of things. Like how the camera functions, fast or slow, low light or not, set for the situation or not.

And how the body functions – the body is equipment too – steady hand or not, lie with the ants or strain the back, go into the mud and mozzies after the shot, or not – Not often!

Eventually, the integration of knowing and being becomes an intuition. A fluidity of action or observation – action in itself.

*

In the end it really is just a matter of being where I am and seeing what is there – here. The only question is can I do it? Get the shot without disturbance – to body or mind – the creatures and mine.

I tend to focus on the sensation inside as the situation allows, and return to it rather than think useless thoughts. And focus on the sense, the fact of things ‘outside’. When I’m ‘in’ action I’m being that. Then no disturbance arises, or at least doesn’t get ‘in’.

*

‘‘ ’I’ am not here, this is only another appearance in your sense that will soon pass without incident.” – describes the message being transmitted, if there is one.

Most of the time, now I know more or less where to look, the Dragons present themselves or they don’t – and that’s it – more or less.

And where there is least disturbance, of mind, there is the most pleasing result. With mind-ing out of the way creativity is free to work and stalking is a pleasure.

As long as the body is up to it.

*

And if ever I come to dream to ‘know’ it all, wake me Life – surely, from my vain slumber.
 
Copyright Reserved / Mark Berkery
 

 
When I go into the garage and the swallows are there, as soon as they see me one gives a small whistling sound as it dives from the nest and in a smooth and graceful arc exits through the open door at the other end. Beautiful to watch. The other one now remains at the nest, perhaps there are eggs there now. I have heard swallows, they could be swifts or martins, will return year after year to a successful nest site. They are welcome as long as I am here.

It is a pleasure to watch the pair of them circling the space at the front of the house, swooping and dodging, talking as they go. Every now and then I surprise them by the front door next to the open door of the garage. A quick whistle and they’re away into the air. Strong, streamlined, fast and accurate hunters. Beautiful nature. I am pleased they are living next to me.

*

A big fly got in to the house with the cat, the big buzzing kind of fly. I can’t have such creatures living and laying in the house and I can’t leave the door open for it to exit since more, or something else, would probably enter. After following it around for a while I was able to swat it down and it lay there unconscious for long enough for me to shoot it, with the camera. Then it started moving again, got up on its feet and wandered in circles for a few seconds. I put it outside before it started flying again. Tough little fellows.

*

The Damselfly is smaller than the Dragonfly. Accordingly it appears to patrol a smaller territory. It doesn’t seem to have a favoured perch but easily moves to and from the available vantage points.

I watched one today as it moved around and saw it chase a few possibilities from one particular perch. I was quick enough of eye to see at least two small moths rise from the grass below the occupied perch and pass within reach of the Damsel. But the damsel was not quick or relentless enough to catch them. Realising, perhaps, it was a waste of valuable energy.

It returned to this perch four or five times, probably because the opportunities for feeding presented themselves here and not somewhere else. And then it was away to another perch, an opportunist rather than a hunter like the Dragonfly

*

The Bugs Are Back in strength. At the light outside that I have on to attract them away from the lights of the house they are spinning around. Orbiting the light as the planets orbit the sun. I’m not going out to see what they are yet. I know there will be mozzies and probably other delightful creatures – when I get close enough with the camera.

The little black biters are swarming in the Billinudgel NR. Midges I think they are. They have a very sharp bite, or whatever it is. It has been suggested they are actually inserting an egg or some such beneath the surface of the skin that some days later hatches and causes a terrible itch.

They are too small to see if it is so but some days later there is a terrible itch. It’s an odd thing but the itching seems to reach a crescendo when I go back into the bush, as if the newly hatched can tell when they are home and it’s time to jump ship.

The mozzies are back too with the warmer weather and the abundant wet of the nearby forest, but they’re not a problem yet. As long as I stay out of the darker places it’s ok. They don’t go out on the trails before the sun gets low either. So, from an hour after sunrise and an hour before sunset it is relatively mozzie free. As long as the sun shines.

*

I was driving to the shop and I saw a python crossing the road in broad daylight. It was about five foot long. I stopped to get a closer look and it was unmoved by my presence. Unhurried, quietly, gracefully making its way up the hillside and into the trees. Seeking its way through the foliage, reaching out from a sturdy branch to the wisps of new growth that looked too flexible to give the long heavy snake any traction. A crossing requiring consummate balance, a clearly focused presence.

*

When I was taking pictures in the NR the other day, standing waiting for the Dragonfly to land, I felt something on my leg. I looked immediately – such things can’t be ignored when there are so many creatures with mechanical and chemical weaponry – and invasive reproductive systems. It was a jumping ant with its long and threatening jaws or mandibles – long pointy defensive and offensive tools at the front of the head.

I haven’t been bitten by one yet but have been told it is painful. This one was carrying a packet of something yellow which, when cropped, looks like a tiny caterpillar. This jumping ant wasn’t doing any jumping. In fact it was having great difficulty navigating over the hairs on my leg – its struggles getting it nowhere fast. So I knocked it off, back to traversable territory.

*

Another fly got into the house, and got whacked like the first one. This one got up again too.

Instinctive life, it just never gives up.
 
Copyright Reserved / Mark Berkery
 

 
At first this post may seem off theme for my site but someone recently mentioned to me an article he was writing on ridding the world of tyrants. This post was inspired by that – amongst other things.

It is an analogy of how difficult living can be at times. And of the untold and often untellable story of those in the trenches and the cockpits of daily living doing their best to get through, and of those that get through. The ordinary people doing it right and getting back up after the inevitable fall.

We all have a tyrant in us. Some more than others. And in different forms of expression but always first through thought and emotion. Nobody can deny it.

If the world is ever to be rid of tyrants it has to start where I find it first, in the tyranny of emotion and thinking, in me – whoever I may be.

This post is for those that recognise it, as is this site, so read it to the end if you will.

*

FBTSOMP, it’s the acronym for ‘flying by the seat of my pants’. It’s a euphemism for how close to the ground pilots sometimes had to fly in order to see anything – maybe even feel it, on the seat of their pants. It probably comes from the First World War – the second one too, when there was no radar or none reliable. Often the pilots of crippled English fighter planes from the famous dogfights (aerial battles) with the Germans over the English Channel, especially in the historic Battle of Britain, were trying to find their way home to land.

No radar, the plane was probably damaged from battle and that infamous English fog effectively blinded the pilot. With the occasional encouragement from a distant radio operator – if the radio was still working, and maybe some chance sighting of a landmark in a break in the fog, the pilots often made it home.

Then, when they were fit enough – or even when they weren’t – out they went again. More often than not to die in battle. And the pilots were not only British, they were from all over the world. They didn’t feel heroic or noble, they knew fear until the moment of engagement with the enemy, and exhaustion. They knew loss, suffering of another kind. And no doubt they were always glad to get back home, those that did.

I have seen the movies and I don’t think it was all propaganda. The war was thrust upon the British people by a tyrant with a will to conquer his neighbours, who had at his command a far superior, ready and highly disciplined military machine. And though many battles were lost I believe the British were able to endure because they were ‘right’.

The time was right. The cause was right. And the right man to lead was available for the duration. I was never a student of history but Winston Churchill made some great speeches. One in particular comes to mind. “We shall fight on the beaches..We shall never surrender”. Inspiring stuff.

*

However.

Walking down a track today through a stand of paperbark trees rising out of a field of reeds, I came to an opening in the woods where a creek ran through. The creek was broad and shallow and the reeds that grew from it were much smaller than in the surrounding field.

Standing there in the shadow of a tree, looking out into the bright sunlit glade that formed about the creek, I could see the shiny threads of silk left by the spiders at the tops of the tall reeds to either side waving freely in the breeze. There was much traffic up to head height, much too-ing and fro-ing of various small flying insects, this way and that at different speeds, patterns and shades of colour. Indications of a certain character.

The occasional dry leaves falling from the treetops, twisting, spiralling, tumbling, flopping and plumb straight down. A large Dragonfly entered my view at speed and so easily took one of these fallings on the wing then, in an instant, released it as he flew, finding nothing of sustenance there. And on his way he went.

I watched him patrolling the clear space above the creek of reeds, to and fro, hovering here and there. Only six feet from me I saw him skim the calm surface of the clear water and leave a wake in it where he took a sup, or a bite.

Then I saw a second Dragonfly enter the stage and join the first in a high speed aerial duet that was dazzling to the eye. It lasted a few seconds before they gracefully parted to go about their solitary Dragonfly business.

A wonderful place. Inside.
 
Copyright Reserved / Mark Berkery
 

 
The passion fruit plant is coming into flower. This is only its second year and it has taken over the fifteen foot long trellis out back and climbed the shade cloth to the roof. There are many buds already and it promises a forest of flowers and all the creatures that visit, then maybe some fruit, we’ll see.

The ants are busy patrolling the passion fruit plant and they are not interested in honey. I tried a bit to see if one would stand still long enough to get a shot with the strongest lens – shortest depth of field/focus. Not interested.

A greying mantis was out exploring, yes greying – he looked aged to me, making his way slowly through the forest of greenery that is the passion plant.

The neon fly is back in numbers, a beautifully coloured creature that flits around the greenery with its mates. Impossible to shoot on the wing but it often stops still for a while, especially in the shade.

The sun has the effect of enlivening the little forms of life, no surprise there – the sun is the symbol of the source of life, inner and outer. It’s the same with the dragonflies and the damselflies, the ants, the mantis and the snakes.

And people, more noticeably in the colder northern hemisphere.

*

I suspect the name passion fruit comes from the abundance of growth and the delicious sweetness of the fruit. But mostly from the exotic looking flower that is testament to the magnificent beauty that is its nature, its instinctive nature. And the spiritual impulse behind that makes it manifest.

I see it inside as a soft singing, a multi-coloured note in the song of life, a passionate one. Not at all insignificant.

*

Saw a snake today, slowly and silently making its graceful way across the trail. A brown snake, about three foot long. It’s the first I’ve seen in the Billinudgel NR in over a year walking there. There is nothing like the appearance of a venomous snake to instantly raise the body’s intelligence to high alert, telling in a quickening of the eye to focus and a heightened awareness of the surrounds. Though in this case there was no cause to action. Hello snake, goodbye.

As I walk the trail I am aware of any sudden movement to either side, good peripheral vision. Noticeable movement usually means something for me to investigate. I take note of where the movement starts and stops and after a few moments of looking I approach carefully, slowly.

Sometimes it doesn’t stop but eventually returns to where it moved from. This is a habit of dragonflies. They have particular places where they often sit and watch from.

*

Standing there on the trail, one I haven’t been on for a while because of all the rain, waiting for the dragonfly to return to her perch, I was delighted when she landed on my walking stick instead.

She didn’t stay long. I turned the stick slowly so the dragonfly was visible in the sun and she just edged back to the shady side. There was no way I could get a picture of her at the time but she did go back to her perch very soon after. She had two perches near me where she would stand in the sunshine keeping an eye out for any passing food.

It is necessary to be patient with the little creatures, especially in the wild places where they don’t know people at all. Their instinct knows to run from danger but it can also tell harmless when it is demonstrated.

Harmless is demonstrated by slow deliberate non-threatening movement on my part. Inside it is best to take no thought other than the aim of being there in that moment, which is just to get in position to capture an image. Which, when you know what you are doing, is an action more of the body than the mind.

Accept no emotion such as disappointment when she flies away, and no anxious stalking. An inner gratitude to the creature for allowing its picture to be taken is not a bad idea either.

Thank you little one, for giving a little of thy magnificent beauty. Why not? It goes back to the source.

*

And then there was the Damselfly in the late afternoon sun. The sun was going down and I knew, or thought, if I was to see any creatures it would be near water. So I went towards the old sand mine which is now a small lake.

She was the only creature moving that was big enough to photograph. A real beauty with her wings shining in the rapidly fading sunlight, and the colours. She moved from place to place and each time I had to work to get in position until she perched above me on a branch and I just couldn’t hold the camera still enough anymore.

She made me earn my crust then but she, life, was just teasing me. Trying to tease some reaction out of me. But I had none, just physical strain. Life does that sometimes doesn’t it, teases the reactive self into the light for me to see and give up? Or give in?

*

When there are no creatures to investigate I give my attention to what is present. The sensation inside, the green leaves of the bushes, the ever present sound of the ocean beating in waves on the shore, and of the birds before they settle down for the night. The wind on my body, the varying textured material of the meandering trail and the smells of the place. In short, I give my attention to the Earth.

In so doing I often find myself resonating inside to the nature outside, in my body/mind. The one strikes the chord of the other. It is not unlike a musical note that carries on the wind, a never ending spiritual wind, inside. A singing of life that appears in ‘outer’ space as colour and form, sound and touch and smell – sense – the acknowledgment of which re-touches a place inside that is trouble free.

And when I get home and if I sit in the darkness, looking inside, the nature I have acknowledged often reverberates in my inner space. Not as thought or feeling – emotion, but deeper than that, as itself – the beauty it is, the simple peace it is. Peace of mind.
 
Copyright Reserved / Mark Berkery
 

 
It was the first day of spring in the southern hemisphere and the Dragons are dancing.

Dragonflies are beautiful creatures, their colours and sleek air travelling design are appealing to me. And magnificent hunters, apparently masters in their domain – the air to some feet above the ground in this case.

I love to watch them seemingly defy any common sense of what a flying creature its size can do, darting this way and that, flashing colour as they go, turning right angles at speed with ease and taking their prey on the wing. Their manoeuverability is really impressive.

Their shape is not dissimilar to the helicopter that is also such a successful predator in mans wars. I wouldn’t be surprised if some clever fellow got the idea from watching these little fellows, probably in a moment of silence – when he or she stopped trying to figure the design.

That’s often when the solution to an apparent problem arrives, in silence of mind.
 

The sky was filled with Dragonflies. Tens of them in the air above the trail to a height of about fifteen feet. One occasionally chasing the other as I watched from the ground against the background of the sky. They were easy to see.

When I got to the trail I noticed one dragonfly was holding position two to three feet above the trail against a strong cross wind. Then every now and again patrolling up and down a sunny stretch about ten metres long. Chasing off any other dragonflies that came along, apparently.

Every now and then a small brown butterfly would come down the trail, across the wind, and the dragonfly would chase it in a quick circle before it went into evasive flutter mode and the dragonfly gave up on it. Intelligent butterflies.

Once I saw a larger brown butterfly come down the trail chased by the dragonfly, then turn on it and chase the dragonfly. The dragonfly did a quick retreat and went about its business.

Made me laugh that, the prey turning on the predator. So much for masters in their domain, maybe he was a learner?
 

There’s always someone bigger and stronger until you get to the end of the line. Always a greater power just around the corner.
 
Copyright Reserved / Mark Berkery
 

 
I was delighted to see two swallows building a nest in the garage the other morning. They were startled as I went in to start the car and immediately took flight.

Around the garage they went first, just one circuit, then out the door two feet above my head making small soft whistles as they went. Talking to each other.

Then they sat on the power line outside and watched. I am careful not to do anything that may be threatening to them, or the nest. They are a sweetness in the place, in me, and I am pleased they came.
 
The weather is warming to Aussie spring and the insects are coming out too. Walking down the track to Billinudgel NR I noticed movement, just a flicker of shadow on the light sandy ground. And it stopped, then started, then stopped again on the ground to the side of the trail.

I stood still, waiting to see what it was. It was bigger than a bee and smaller than a dragonfly but until I got close I couldn’t know. When it stopped I had to keep my eye on the spot so as not to lose it in the debris of the forest floor, such is its camouflage.

I approached the spot slowly and fluidly, no sharp movement. As I got to it I could see it was a Damselfly, probably so named because they are pretty creatures in their colour and form, who knows. But they are pretty creatures.

Three different spots, it was not easily spooked.
 
There are many buds on the passion fruit plant at the back of the house and if I am lucky there will be many flowers too, soon enough. When I was looking I saw the neon flies are coming back too, what a work they are to capture.

I didn’t have the time to chase one of them around for a picture but one fiery eyed tiger fly stood still long enough for me to capture his image.

An interesting creature with a face in his face, as it were. If you look close enough you might see your self.

‘Here’s lookin at you babe!’ ‘Old friend.’
 
Later in the afternoon I was out back of the house where there is a big bucket that catches rainwater from the roof. I noticed movement on the water and saw it was a honey bee when I got close enough. It was drowning.

Its movement was slight as if it was exhausted from its struggle so I put a large leaf under it and lifted it out. It didn’t have much energy left and it was wet and the night was coming with its cold. Cold to a bee that is used to spending the night tucked up with its mates in the warm hive.

So I did what I could for it. I put it on a piece of wood and covered it from the last light of the day and the coming night with some shells from the table. When I put a square of tissue in with it the bee climbed onto it and settled down.

It needed to dry off and the tissue would wick the water from its furry body, or else it would surely die that night.

It did, die. It makes non sense to be attached to anything, it dies.
 
Copyright Reserved / Mark Berkery
 

 
Outside the Billinudgel pie shop I saw a flower nine inches across. As usual I can’t recall the name but it was a real beauty and obviously cared for – acknowledged – loved.

Beautiful shades of golden yellow and orange silk petals spread to the afternoon sun soaking up its light as the knowledge, from behind, of ‘flower’ – this flower. Radiating its colour, form and texture. Taking from the ground the matter necessary to hold the form, however fleeting, to converge at the centre to transmit its message up the totem into the world of passing insect sense. Love me! It cries.

To people too, deep inside.
 

This Flower

And This One

 
Mine is usually the only car at this entry to the NR but today there was another and it was lived in. The driver was sitting inside and we said hello as my door closed with a clunk and I was on my way down the trail.

Knowing the dark side of human nature there is a certain wariness when meeting a stranger in the bush. A certain openness usually allows space to gauge the other.
 
The sun was warm on my straw hat and the cool breeze blew through the vents in its side. I was aware of the easy gait of my body, the pleasure it is to walk, the sensation in my hips and down my legs as they took the weight. The ease with which the body balances when it isn’t misaligned.

The rough silky grain of the wooden walking stick, cut from a tree a long time ago, was apparent in my hand, the colour light to my eye. I don’t use it much walking in a straight line on a relatively flat surface so it was balanced on my shoulder some of the time, and in my hand. Nicely balanced.
 
Around noon the sun is high on the N to S trail and very quickly I felt it hot on my back, no shade yet. As I walked the cool wind rustled the light spring leaves in the treetops and caused the bigger branches to groan and squeak against each other as they swayed.

Every now and then, though it is always now, I heard the call of one bird or another in the distance through the bush. And sometimes not so distant. Birds talk a lot. If you listen without minding what might be said you can hear deep inside and the body smiles.

The truth of what bird says is in the sound of it. Some sounds go deeper than others and touch different places, as the notes of a piano only much vaster in scale, some are solemn and some may cause you to laugh. Some are stony grim and some are whispers of lightness in the shade of the bush. Some a warning and some an invite.

None are negative. All will take you inside. And it doesn’t serve to name them.
 
A dragonfly greeted me on the path, circled me a few times, and then darted up the trail zig-zagging ahead of me. This one was of the wood, its colour and patterning wouldn’t be seen against the bark of the trees that grow here. I was pleased to see him, or her.

The damselfly’s are out as well, lightly coloured blue, gossamer wings glistening in the sunlight. Beautiful little things.

And one grey grasshopper bouncing around the dusty, sandy, stony trail. Seemingly lost in that desert six feet wide.
 
I went down a side trail that is rarely used and is overgrown with fern and bushes and small trees hung with lichen and creepers in places. Occasionally speckled with yellow petals from the bush flower endings. Here and there a fallen tree closed the trail to form another going around it.

This is a very old forest, you can feel it, you can see it now and again in the rotting three foot diameter trunks lying on the earth, host to a host of plants and creatures. A forest in themselves, shades of green and brown riven with ancient tracks.

A startled wallaby bounded through the bush to my right. Off down a trail I know only leads to swamp, where I can’t go. A flash of light brown as it disappeared into the shadowed bush. There are a lot of them around here, usually seen crossing the trail at dusk.
 
When I got back to the car the other fellow was making a cup of tea and we talked for a few minutes. I could see his car was chock-a-block with stuff. He also has some automatic night photography equipment he uses in an attempt to capture an image of the local mythical wildlife, the marsupial dingo.

I hadn’t heard of this before but he was serious in his quest.
 
I think the rarest animal is the man content in his being.
 
Copyright Reserved / Mark Berkery