Nature's Place

Today is a good day. The flip response is ‘every day is a good day’. But that’s not true. There is only today. And today is a good day.

Today I was out the back yard looking at the nature. You know, the simple things. The water in the bowl and other containers, getting rid of mozzie breeding grounds.

The leaf on the small tree with a neon fly on it. Or the tomato plant growing by the young Jacaranda tree to see if anything is ripe yet. The simple things. No big deal.

I saw a small yellow butterfly fluttering around the garden and as much as I love to see them up close I wasn’t going to chase it for a shot. That is too trying, too wanting, too much of a strain.

I smiled and let it go about its business of visiting the plants it was attracted to, maybe depositing eggs, or just sitting there being at ease in existence for a moment, nothing doing.

I was down on my hunkers looking at some flowers as the butterfly wandered around seeming to tempt me this way, no this way, no no that way. No way!

Then she came and sat beside me, just a couple of feet away. So I got the camera ready, slowly, gently. And she sat there posing for me. Proud little thing.

She didn’t go away for ages then and I wasn’t going to disturb her, and my legs were beginning to hurt from the cramped position. Well, you can’t have everything.

Two more came and settled in different places, the one occasionally chasing the other. The other fluttering its wings in disapproval. Delightful to see.

I was able to get a pair of gum boots yesterday, the last pair they had in Tweed? All the shops had sold out over the deluge, which isn’t over yet.

I wanted a pair to go into the reserve to see if the wasp and the spider are still on the long reedy grass. Maybe I’ll do that tomorrow.

Today I went in from another entrance, Jones road. The boots are a good fit but they are a lot heavier for walking far, and not as comfortable as my walkers. I was able to go through the pooled water but the mozzies are a serious deterrent, there are loads of them now and I suspect they will be around for a while to come.

The trouble is the diseases they can give me, all sorts of fevers it seems, so I can’t forget the repellent even once.

If nature is a representation in sense of mans true nature then mossies are those niggling thoughts, worries and fears. The mental and emotional itches that just won’t go away.

The way to deal with them is put on the mozzie repellent, learn to meditate, sit. And swat them with right action and they fall like, well, mozzies.

I didn’t go far today, it was really too tiring with the new gum boots, and dodging mozzies is hard work.

On the way out I saw these two flyers attached to each other by their tail ends. They were definitely connected because when one wanted to fly away and the other didn’t they didn’t go far.

It must be difficult going the same way when facing opposite directions. The stronger one usually wins.

People do that, get attached and try to go their own ways while staying together. Though they are not connected physically the way these two were, not often anyway.

It doesn’t work for long, or they just get used to the pain.

All copyright reserved / Mark Berkery

It never ceases to amaze me the natural intelligence behind the building of nature’s structures.

As it is the basic instinct of all creatures to reproduce it is not surprising it is in the housing of the young where the most obvious intelligence is employed. Have a look at the first picture.

There are a number of features to this structure that make it ingenious. The first is its innocuous appearance, it could be any bundle of natural debris thrown together higgledy piggledy. But it’s not, it’s a very deliberate and intelligent design.

There are at least two bundles of strands holding it to the blade of grass. If one is detached the other is probably strong enough to hold it. A backup system. I’d bet if the second bundle was cut more than half way through it would still hold.

Nearly all the pieces that make it up are pointing out and down from the top so rain will just run off and the larva or pupae inside stays dry.

It is probably made up of the pieces taken from the blade it is hanging from, see how the blade ends on the right just past the point it hangs from? How’s that for economy of effort.

This also has the effect of denying any predators access from the right. And if one landed right on the end it would probably fall off as the blade bends over at the narrow point on the other side of the nest

See how the blade is chewed narrow to the left of the nest. This will also deter any predator big enough to demolish the nest from crossing to the nest from the left.

Have you ever noticed when a large beetle or ant comes to a narrowing of the path it often turns back? And if a large enough insect crossed to the nest its weight might be enough to bend the blade at its narrow point and it would likely fall off.

I don’t think the creature that made this sat down and thought about it. I think it arises within the creature as an intelligent response to a need of that form of life to survive with its particular characteristics in the situation – if it was a desert it might use sand and hang it from a stone, or attach it to a tumble weed and send it on its way, who knows.

And because the response fits this creature so well it can be called its instinctive nature. Its intelligent instinctive nature.

Have a look around you. There is a hundred examples of nature’s ingenuity at arms length unless you live in a box. And even then nature can’t be kept out.

The second picture is of some creatures nest built using available materials to reinforce and disguise. It’s the simplicity of the thing that deceives the thinker into overlooking the obvious intelligence.

Or the White Ant’s skyscraper. A magnificent idea with a fatal flaw. Can you see it? I didn’t say nature makes no mistakes.

Or look at the Jumping Ant’s nest. No uninvited guests here. No predator to the ant is going to cross that carpet of needles very quickly. Predators like mice and rats and other such creatures.

This is the Billinudgel Nature Reserve after all, not Africa.

All copyright reserved / Mark Berkery

Many times I have been down this trail and nearly seen this thing. I may not have mentioned it before because I don’t want to tease too much with the one that got away.

Recently, as I have approached a bend in the trail where it dips to form a shallow creek bed where a tall grass grows, I have been catching sight of the tail of a creature as it disappears into the growth. It’s a black tail and I have been able to catch sight of it as it scrambles for cover. It is not a snake, it’s too fat and short.

I think it mat be a Blue Tongue lizard. But it’s difficult to be sure, it may be too fast for a Blue Tongue.

It must have a den or something around here since I have seen its tail quite a few times now at the exact same spot. And it always runs in the same direction.

Today is the fourth or fifth time I saw its tail only this time I was prepared. I went slow and quiet as I approached the bend in the trail where it hangs out and as soon as I saw the tail I stopped. But I was too late, the tail was already moving.

I stopped dead still and it stopped moving. I waited and watched and it didn’t move again. After a short while I started moving ever so slowly, quietly, deliberately towards him or her. So as to get a better look at this shy and wonderful creature.

As soon as I could I took a photo. With the old camera. And after each short move I took another photo. Just in case it disappeared again before I got the whole of it.

After a couple minutes of this slow and easy progress I had the beauty in full vision. From tail tip to nose it must have been over two feet and as black as midnight. It was a magnificent creature.

Creature, from created thing. And its magnificence is the touch of the creator.

All copyright reserved / Mark Berkery

It’s ten at night now and the rain is pouring down again.

I saw on the news today there is widespread flooding in this north eastern region of NSW. And it is wonderful. Some people complain, but some people always complain.

The sun was shining this afternoon and I went out to have another look at the flooding up the road from me and there were two cars. One was in the water and out of action and the other was out of the water and damaged. They must not have seen the water on the road, it’s easy to miss, it shines like the rest of the road when it’s wet and it’s just over a slight hill. So if you were looking at the flooding in the field beside the road you’d be in it before you knew.

The water level has been rising for a week now. I went to the reserve today to see how far I’d get and to see what I see and enjoy the nature. I didn’t get very far at all. On one of the trails, the one where the spider and the wasp have built their web and nest, I only got a hundred metres before I came to the water level.

There’s the intelligence behind living high on a stalk of grass, if you’re lucky the water won’t reach you. I trust the creatures are above the water line. I went looking for a pair of gum boots the other day so I could go and see the spider and the wasp but they were all sold out. They wouldn’t have been any good to me anyway, not today. The water level is up a metre or so on a couple of days ago, no exaggeration.

I went to the next trail I walk on and though I had to cross some water that wasn’t there last time it was still passable. And it was a lovely reddish brown colour. The sound of the cicada’s is very loud now and they have been joined by a variety of frogs. It’s hard to describe sounds but the cicada makes a rapid clicking sound, and there is thousands of them, so it pulses in waves throughout the forest. The frogs today were mostly crackle and pop pop popping with the occasional needip needip. The crickets were voicing a silver trilling in places. In all it was overwhelming to the ear.

On this next trail a cicada flew out of the bush beside me and landed on my shirt. I raised my hand to activate the camera and it flew away to a nearby branch. They are usually hard to get so close to, I have tried and they usually fly away with a big buzzz as soon as I am ready to snap, but I suspect this one was tired.

A little way on I came across an amazing creature, I’ve never seen anything like it before. Its body is about an inch long and see the antennae, they are huge. I wonder what it senses through them. Nature perhaps?

I disturbed a nest of ants along the way and they were not pleased. They jumped three or four inches into the air and as much distant in search of the culprit, me. I have run into these fellows before and I am not game to see if they bite, I reckon they do, being so aggressive. You can just make out the big mandibles, gripping tools.

When I got back to the car and closed the door the silence was loud. Relief. From all the calling creatures.

I left this place to go see how the water is flowing in the creek a couple miles away. About a hundred metres down the road in the opposite direction to the flooding I have already mentioned the road was flooded. I couldn’t drive through. I didn’t know it but the road out of Wooyung was flooded in both directions since last night.

I am here to stay, for now. It’s all for now.

All copyright reserved / Mark Berkery

They do travel in the rain. And they do take shelter from the wet when they’ve had enough of it.

Last night I checked around the veranda as I usually do once the small creatures start showing up. I found one toad and dealt with it and was on my way to the fridge in the garage when I noticed movement on the floor near the wall. I shone the light on it and it was one of those striped frogs, a young one, or just a small one – you never can tell, except sometimes.

I put the toad down and picked the frog up to put him somewhere with longer term prospects for his survival. I have a small undercover garden where I put all sorts of shade plants, plants that need shade and plants that provide shade, and shelter. It’s along one side of the covered area at the back of the house.

I put stripy on the stag fern just at the lip of the darkened leaves in the middle of it. Then I looked down to push the on button on the camera, I always take the camera with me to check for the little ones, and as soon as I looked up to him I saw him climb into the dark recesses of the fern and disappear. Poof! Gone! Just like that.

So I went back to the garage and put the toad in the freezer. I was back at the screen door when I noticed movement again. I bent down and there was a dainty looking green tree frog on the rails of the sliding doors. That’s a dangerous place to rest, for any creature, on the rails. Because chances are something will come along and run over you, be it a door or a train.

I picked him up after wetting my hand in rainwater, just in case there was any salt on my hands – salt burns frogs, or any wet absorbent skinned creature. He had beautiful golden eyes. After a few seconds he suddenly jumped and I could feel the pressure of his little feet on my hand, whoosh – that’s the sound of jumping suddenly, and landed on the screen door with a little slap of his body, just at the top left of the cat flap. See how spread out his right back toes are to grip the smooth surface of the plastic cat flap. And how his other toes are curled to grip the loose flyscreen material. Amazing creatures. Not a good place to rest either.

I picked golden eyes up again and brought him over to the same fern and placed him on the log the fern is attached to, sitting on top and to the left. I looked down again to turn on the camera and when I looked up he was gone. Disappeared. I couldn’t see him at all, he just vanished into the greenery around him. Very effective camouflage I’d say, or my eyes are worse than ever. Bit of both maybe?

I had a good look with the torch and I used a bamboo stick to gently disturb the undergrowth but there was no sign of him at all. So I let it go. I had to let it go because I was getting attached to getting a photo of this one in the nature. So I left it to life, if I was to get such a photo life would present the opportunity.

I went back inside the house and did a few things, downloaded the pix, put some food for the cat. And when I was going to turn off the light so I could just sit in the darkened peaceful room listening to the rain I looked down and there was another of these dainty tree frogs in the same position on the cat flap on the door at the spot where the last one had ended up. Amazing.

So I got the camera again and went outside once more. This one was smaller than the last and I brought her straight over to the fern. This one is a she, I can tell. I put her down and looked down to turn on the camera and when I looked up she was gone. Again! Well, this time I had a better sense of the frog, having seen it a couple times so far and when I searched around for it I sighted it very quickly. But it was still almost invisible in the green around it.

I was pleased to have these three visitors come calling. That’s life. I wonder if they will call again.

A very busy frog night indeed.

All copyright reserved / Mark Berkery

I left to go to the shops to get a local paper this afternoon and I came to flooding a few hundred metres down the road from where I’m living. The fellow in the Landcruiser didn’t make it through the water and had to turn back it was that deep. The field next to the road usually has cows in it but today it’s a flood channel to allow water from the hills behind to get out to sea.

Everywhere I went there was flooding. The normally placid tidal creek was overflowing and rapid today, I often go swimming a ways down from here. It looks as if it will be swollen for a few days at least, and more rain is forecast for the area.

I went a roundabout way to the shop and on the way back had a look to see how the road was from the other side, just thought I’d show you. These signs are not uncommon in regional Australia, where I am – though much development has taken place in recent years and there is more in the pipeline. These roads are allowed to flood because if the water was blocked here it would flood a little further south, where six thousand people live. It would be nice to believe they will leave places like this the way they are, but I don’t.

I called in to the reserve too to see how it is after all the stormy weather. What I found wasn’t unexpected. There were trees fallen across the paths and when I set out to see if one of the creeks I know was flooded I didn’t get very far before I ran into flooding on the trail. This water was flowing, to where I couldn’t see, maybe to the creek but certainly towards the sea.

So I went back a bit and tried another trail. A few hundred metres in and I had to go bush to avoid more minor flooding on the trail. But just twenty metres on I ran into an impassable river where last week there was a stream I could hop across on the stones and logs.

I did encounter a lovely orange mushroom  looking as if it had been standing in the rain waiting to say hello. Hello! There’s a smile in this sweet little form of life. Do you see it? Don’t try; just pull back from looking for anything in the usual way. Relax the eyes and see without looking to see. Look closely without looking at anything in particular. This way you see what others don’t. You see inside, where all things smile.

There was a crew of small native bees hanging on a slender branch of a tree overhanging the trail. They were about head height and I nearly walked into them except I noticed just in time a darkening and thickening along the branch that was out of place.

They are gentle creatures the Aussie bee and these were looking a bit tired from all the commotion, but still hanging in there, no problem. I was about to snap them when they all just flew away. Camera shy I reckon.

It really is a time for doing little, staying indoors and letting the unnecessary things and thoughts fall away. Because really, there is not a lot to be done. And what is to be done is being done.

All copyright reserved / Mark Berkery

You can’t beat the ant for sheer grit and determination. This slender legged creature was observed pulling its find over a distance of two metres in about one minute. The fly it’s taking back to its nest is five or more times its own size and weight and the two metres distance it was observed is the equivalent of you or me pulling five times our own weight a hundred metres or so. I don’t know about you but I’d be lucky to move something that heavy even one inch.

The stress on its feet must be enormous. Do ants have feet?

All copyright reserved / Mark Berkery

Water has been pouring from the sky for days now. The garden is flooded, the forest is flooded, and the seas are high and rough. Everything is getting a thorough soaking and it’s wonderful. Everything is just soaking it up, the plants and the earth. All the animals are sheltering in their favourite places and people are indoors doing indoor things until the sun shines again, as it always does.

Today is the day I do my shopping, basically because I live forty kilometres from the nearest shopping centre that has what I want. That’s an eighty kilometre round trip and the cost of fuel has gone up dramatically recently so I keep my use of the car to a minimum. Driving along in the rain is almost blinding at times. Even on high speed the wipers only give me a clear view for a couple seconds at a time and then it’s a blur for a few seconds. Could be dangerous. But I love driving through the water and feel the tyres hit the resistance, hear the water spray up into the car and clean it underneath, and see the spray, whoosh, on either side of me. Great fun.

The only animals I’ve seen outdoors the last couple days are the birds, the ones with young to feed. Today I heard the urgent cries of the young butcherbird and went out to have a look. There it was on the drainpipe under the eave of the roof, looking sodden from the rain. The parent was on the clothes line and when I appeared to get too close to the young one it called to him and flew away and the young one followed.

Some of the birds are having a rough time of it in the strong winds. I’ve seen them blown wildly about, but it is their element after all isn’t it. Is a maggie dodging branches as it is blown between two trees in the back garden down past the water tanks, that box was blown in from I don’t know where.

When the weather is really too rough they know better than to fly. Some don’t though, whether because of experience or the lack of it, or hunger drives them – birds don’t carry much in the way of energy reserves. Or one could risk it and go out hunting while it’s calm because there are young to be fed, and then have to find its way back to the nest after the weather darkens again.

It’s dangerous weather for birds, not being able to fly safely. And with cats, dogs and snakes about it’s a dangerous time for them indeed. Because flying is their only escape from any of these animals.

The other creatures that love this rainy windy weather are the frogs. You can tell they just love the rain the way they sit there soaking it up, contented creatures. The rain helps frogs in other ways than the essential but simple need of water.

They can travel more easily in the fluid of the rain, which means they can travel further so they can spread out and so increase their long term chances of survival. The rain also provides all other creatures with similar opportunities and more insect’s means more food to the frog. Great news, for the frog.

But after all the rain we’ve been having I’d say even the frogs are under shelter.

I love the sound of the rain on the surfaces of the house, mostly on the roof here since there is a veranda around the house. The sound of rain on the roof as it falls in differing volumes and at different intensities blown by a fickle and sometimes steady wind reminds me of the simple sensation in the body.

That tingling I see and feel inside when I’ve closed my eyes and my mind is quiet. Seen all the easier when I’m sitting in the dark just listening, listening in the silence of the night, of inside.

And by the looks of it there will be fresh mushrooms for dinner tomorrow. Yum! Another gift of the rain and the earth. After any significant rain mushrooms appear in the back garden, usually enough for a meal or two. And they’re free.

All copyright reserved / Mark Berkery

Mooball National Park is a well kept secret. It’s on the map but when I first went looking for it I found no signs for it, anywhere. Without a topographical map what I had to do was look at the road map for the general location and try the various roads and tracks until I found it.

I found the entrance just into the Burringbar ranges on the way to Murwillumbah. It’s just a dirt track off the old Highway One and it’s very easy to miss. And dangerous to navigate to from the south.

The actual park is mountainous, as far as I know there is no flat country here. This means almost nobody comes here so there are none of the advantages of a much visited place such as developed trails, lookouts or parking and picnic areas. That’s not a bad thing it’s just a fact. I enjoy the places people don’t often go to, as long as I physically can that is.

It’s also rainforest country. Because of mountainous terrain to catch the clouds and the greenery to help produce them these hills are often shrouded in mist and right now it’s very wet, having been raining on and off for a few weeks.

One of the effects of this rain is the trees soak it up and take the opportunity to expand and grow which often means they shed the old inflexible bark that protected them since the last rains. This leaves them exposed in their fresh new forest colours.

The road through it is very steep in places and hilly almost every other place, though there are a few areas on the side for parking the car. There are fire trails throughout so at least there is some easy walking, it’s not necessary to break a trail or follow the ones made by motorbikes over the years.

This one is well out of the way. It’s on top of a hill where there was once a house and now there’s a radio mast, and goes down into the valley below where there are a few small farms.

I discovered an interesting looking mushroom on this trail. It’s furry, or shaggy haired, a unique expression of fungi.

These hills are around three to four hundred metres high and the walking is more like climbing at times and I love it. Once the body is used to the exertion it’s a pleasure to walk here. There is always some new nook or cranny to be explored or some old one in a new season, it’s always different.

You can even see the ocean from places here, it’s that horizontal white line in the distance, right of centre.

I went on from this place to one of the trails I know and parked the car, put my hat on and got my trusty stick from the back seat. It’s just a light young tree left to cure in its skin for a while, then peeled of its bark and sanded for smoothness and cut to size – around five foot long.

I find it invaluable these days, as an aid to walking and climbing and for touching things at a distance to see if anything moves. It’s also handy at times for steadying my camera hand, though you wouldn’t know it to look at some of the pix.

It was nice and easy walking on this trail. Cool, wet, with the occasional shower, and relaxing. As I got further up the trail I started hearing squeaks that sounded like frogs calling to each other. The sounds were coming from the side of the trail where the rainwater runs down so I stopped to check it out.

I was hunkered down facing the bank with my feet just in the water listening for the location of the sounds. They seemed to be coming from very distinct areas but when I moved the leaf litter I found only more leaf litter and dirt. I checked a number of areas like this but found no sign of the frogs at all. So I let them go, maybe they will show themselves another time.

I have heard it said the first is the hardest to find, but once you have seen one they are then all over the place. Well it’s true the first, of anything, is hardest to do. Like overcoming the primarily physical barrier of climbing the highest or hardest mountain.

Or the barrier, primarily of will or resistance, to the detachment from mind – to realise no mind.

All copyright reserved / Mark Berkery