Nature's Place

It was late at night and I was delighted to see the little frog climbing on the glass door. It happens when it rains for a time that the frogs come to the house for shelter and I am always glad to see them.

It is an acknowledgment of nature and the simple good. That they come, and that I am glad. One is not separate from the other. There is a little more of the good in me for the acknowledgment, the appearance in sense. Inner sense.

The sense of sight, touch, of caring. A sense of love.

A clarity, a shimmering of the place in the psyche where such things be. A magical place, I dare say. But not the silly and destructive ‘magic’ humans get up to.

Queenie was showing an interest in him so I shooed her away. The cats don’t harm the green frogs because the green frog’s primary tactic in danger is to be still. The cats need the excitement of the chase and they soon lose interest without it.

After I took a few pix I picked him up and closed my hand around him, gently but firmly, so he wouldn’t jump from a height to the solid floor and injure himself. If he would, they are extremely resilient creatures. But no sense in risking it. He struggled a little but gave up soon enough as there was no way out of my hand till I opened it.

I’m sure he could look after himself well enough but I thought I’d give him a helping hand, carefully. He came to me and there was something I could do for him. Why? Why not?

Still, I didn’t want to leave the frog on the barren side of the house where there is little cover or prospect of food. And though I’m sure he could always find shelter at the front I have set the back of the house up so it provides more for the needs of frogs.

So I took him out back to the shelter of the stag fern and after I opened my hand and he got his bearings he jumped for the cover and welcoming presence of nature.

He was too quick for me and disappeared before I could track him. That happens when I have an eye on the camera.

I do love to get pictures of the creatures in the nature they come from. But you can’t have everything and everything has its time.

He will live a while in the jungle of my back yard and I am pleased with that. We may meet again too, you never know.

All copyright reserved / Mark Berkery

Gently raining, small drops. Wind blowing a little. And all the Swallows parked on the wire, or is it Swift’s. It must be a pleasure for them or why not find shelter, there may be a good reason. Maybe their wings are not suited to maneuvering among the branches. They do build mud nests after all. In accessible, to them, places.

There are a few of the Magpie Lark’s, or Pee Wee’s as they are commonly known, come to harass the swallows. But they are just not fast enough. The Swallows scatter in all directions and the others can’t keep up. They are just trying for an easy bite to eat I reckon. There are a few other pied birds about. The Butcherbird and the Magpie. Anything that can be eaten is fair game if it can be caught.

Walking in the light rain today reminded me of the child I was in Dublin so many tears ago. I used to spend a lot of time ‘outside’. It was a gentle soaking I got. Hat, shirt and flipflops is what I wore. It was cool but not cold and the small creatures were not deterred.

There were yellow butterflies, dragonfly’s and a few birds and other creatures. But no mozzies. And all the little toads, or is it frogs, jumping around the place and out from where my feet are about to land.

The camera isn’t waterproof so I didn’t take it with me today. The wind was from the south and I stayed in the bush to walk against it and came back along the beach to walk with it. I still got soaked.

The sea was almost warm after the day and nights rain. That’s because the rain is warmer than the sea and the warmer water sits on the colder water. I’d say it’s warmer because it’s closer to the sun. It’s how the water got to be rain in the first place.

Eventually the heat and cold will equalize, mix, until the water is uniformly one thing or the other, cold or warmer. It’s the way of things that without the contrast we wouldn’t notice, anything. If everything was the same temperature, or colour, or shape we wouldn’t know the heat or cold of it.

The difference is where we get our sense of self, me, not me. What that self is depends on the heat or cold of it. It’s a matter of degree. But heat always rises.

I was looking out the kitchen window earlier and I saw a Rosella balancing on the barbed wire fence. It was eating grass seed at the top of long stems so the fence was a good place to reach it from. I crept out the back door, slow and quiet so the little beauty wouldn’t see or hear me.

The light was poor but I’m not too concerned with what is called good photography or not, I just do the best I can with what I’ve got. No problem, and some lovely pictures. She, I’m sure it was she, stripped one stem of grass of its seeds and moved on to the next.

And the next. Moving along the wire towards me as she did. She was distracted by her food, a potentially fatal attraction. Until she was so close she couldn’t miss me taking pix and off she went. Jump, swoop and flap flap flap into the distance.

I have seen a pair of Rosella’s out on the wire fence lately, I wonder if she’ll be back with her mate?

All copyright reserved / Mark Berkery

As heavy as the rain has been the ground around here just soaks it up. Along the strip of coast south of Pottsville there is not much fresh water for the birds to bathe in so they make the most of the puddles that remain.

They are very cautious creatures the way they attack the water from the cover of the bush. These particular birds are at home in the bushes, small agile flyers. Sitting on a branch protected by the surrounding leaves, they wait for the right moment then dart into the puddle with a splash. Ruffle up their feathers, wriggle like mad to get the water into the deepest recesses of their raiment as fast as they can to get at the parasites and dirt and dust of the day, before something dangerous enough to catch and eat them comes along.

Quicker than the eye can follow they will disappear at the sound of an approaching car or the sense of being watched. Today I was allowed to get a picture of one washing itself, it paused an unusually long time before taking off again. Instinct rarely allows such pause in so shy a bird in the open.

My camera is not really fast enough for birds but that doesn’t stop me going there, doing that.

I noticed a colourful bug on a leaf nearby, a petrol blue green in his wing casing. He didn’t notice the birds at all. His world didn’t extend to the other side of the road. The world on the other side of the road might extend to him though, especially if he moves sudden and fast to provide some contrasting change in the scene. Though his colouring might deter the predator, bright colours in small things usually mean ‘Not Good Eating’.

The clouds were darkening as I walked along the beach. I wasn’t looking for anything in particular when I noticed movement close to my feet. It was the biggest crab I’ve seen around here, about four inches wide in the body, eight or nine inches from foot to foot. Eyes up, alert now. What amazed me was how it let itself get caught in the open, especially since I was wearing an orange top. To any creature with colour vision I’d have been visible from a long way off. Then I noticed the food in its claws. It was busy tearing up a bit of blue jellyfish.

The third fundamental need of the body’s survival, food, will take one’s attention off the horizon. But for such a large crab, and therefore an older crab, an experienced crab, being caught out in the open would have been an embarrassment. If such a thing were possible for a crab, I think not.

These crabs live in holes in the sand at the edge of the sea. Twice a day they remake their homes with the passing of the tides. Twice a day they dig their way out of the sand to find food, and at least twice a day they dig themselves into the sand for shelter from the dangers of living in an existence where life is divided into many different forms. And one form lives off another.

What an existence, and people think they have it hard. It’s the thinking that does it though, makes it hard. The natural creatures are lucky that way, they don’t have to think. They just do and die.

On the way home I stopped by one of my favourite bushes and a caterpillar caught my eye. It’s a colourful thing with some tufts and what looks like antennae at one end, and spiny bristles set in bundles all along its length. I didn’t know what to make of all the bits and bobs, it was a bit confusing which end was which and what did what. It looked dangerous in fact. Probably the birds feel the same way and just leave it alone, better safe than sorry.

Then there was this fellow, or is it a lady. A crown of four eyes, two big, two small, all black. Dressed for the ball with not a knight in sight, oh well. Usually spiders run away when I get close to them with the camera but this one was curious. She actually came closer to the lens, maybe she saw her reflection and saw herself for the first time in her little life.

We’ll never know. But she posed for me this way and that until she had enough and jumped away to another leaf and wandered off into the jungle of leaves.

I was pleased to meet her. Majesty.

All copyright reserved / Mark Berkery

Djinn has been meowing at me lately. He never has been much of a talker, quiet as a mouse I’d say. I’ve changed his diet and he only gets fed when he’s hungry. And he has to tell me. He used to have food on tap which I think is a bad idea for any domestic creature, man or animal. A case of too much of a good thing is a b…. .

He doesn’t meow like other cats, he only opens his mouth with an OW without the ME. It’s peculiar, like he needs to be treated special. But he is a beautiful cat and I love his presence.

He follows me around the house during the day. If I’m sitting he often comes and wants to sit in my lap. Except on occasion I don’t let him anymore because with all the rain it’s flea time and I don’t need anything else biting me. I don’t need to be scratching any more.

He likes to sleep in box’s, cool dark places where he won’t be disturbed. Like under the computer table. But often he’s right behind me when I turn around to go get something. Him and Queenie still don’t get on, she’s the cat that came with the house.

He does the dominant male thing and she does the submissive but defiant female thing, flat to the ground, ears back and hissing at him. It’s a bit comical to watch, though they take it very seriously. Just like people.

If I’m cooking he comes and sits or lies in the middle of the floor, or somewhere in the way. Every now and again I have to kick him out for his own good. But most of the time I just reach down and acknowledge him. He loves that. A petting of his head and he’ll put back his ears for me to do it right. Or a scratch under the chin. Purrrr!

Every now and then he’ll reach out as I pass him as if to trip me up. He loves to play sometimes and I oblige him with attention. He loves to be acknowledged. He is just a child after all. One of God’s children. Aren’t we all?

All copyright reserved / Mark Berkery

Now that I’ve ‘discovered’ it that unnamed bush out back of the house is one of my favourite places to visit. Much of the local wildlife agree it’s a good place to be. I was out there first thing this morning and all the residents are still there. The Assassin was there, the drama king, the ferocious little Praying Mantis and a few things I couldn’t begin to name. And a host of spiders, some of those jumpers too with all the eyes at front.

In all I would say it’s a very healthy bush. It has a number of main stems and a plentiful number of branches off them, more branches off the branches and plenty of leaves on them all. It is so structured there seems to be an awful lot of living space in a small area. There are even ants living inside the bush, they have hollowed out a stem and made it their home. A real multispecies metropolis.

Taking it easy today, strolling along behind the dunes where all the tadpoles were, I found one of the first new Toads. It was only 2cm or so long. You can see it against the print of my palm. The thing is, without a lot of experience it’s not possible to tell what species it is at such a young age, but I’d say toad if pushed to it. Today I wasn’t pushed to it so he got to live a while longer.

I came back by the beach and met a lovely couple of old hippies, they had a sense of integrity, not lost in the smoke so many call principle or freedom.

From a distance I could see one of the crabs digging out a hole in the sand, regularly depositing lumps of wet sand around the entrance which got spread out with the foot traffic. As soon as it saw me it disappeared back down its hole and waited. I know it waited because I waited too. Eventually it peeped over the rim of the hole and just as quick disappeared again.

I waited some more, longer this time. This time it came up with a load of sand and dumped it so quick it must have been startled. I suspect it had forgotten why it was waiting down there and went about what it usually does, digging the hole. And when it came out with the sand it noticed its sky had changed, I was in it. And survival kicked in again.

I waited some more. The next time it came up it stopped dead in its tracks at the top of the hole, half in and half out, waiting to see what next. I took a couple of pictures then raised my hand. And down it went again. I reckon the last time it came up it was no longer sure which was its sky, the one with me in it or the one without me. I just let it know again.

When I got home I saw there were new cows in the paddock behind me. So I went to say hello. And tell them to leave my plant alone and not to eat it. I can’t say they heard me. But I got a couple of pictures and only when I put them on the computer did I notice the wound under the big soft eye of the creature. Fly’s do that I am told. And the world we live in doesn’t allow the proper care of the animals, too much else to do. Like counting money.

It’s a shame on man, not the particular farmer, I have no blame for him, he just fits in this exploitative world of ours, but Man. We can do better than that with God’s creation.

The cows look sad to me, being so close to people it wouldn’t surprise me. To be treated as a unit of production. And when the produce drops it’s off to the knacker’s yard. Have you ever seen the fear on the face of a cow when it’s about to be killed? It knows. It knows in a limited way, having spent generations as man’s source of food it could not but have developed the instinctive knowledge of what man is, the way he is. What we are, so far from our own nobility.

They had gracious companions though, taking advantage of the situation of the long grass undisturbed for some time. With every step a cow would take a host of life forms would shift and shake from their positions and these white long legged messengers would gobble them up. That’s life.

I caught one in flight but the shutter speed was too slow, I’m still getting to know the camera.

And on the way in I noticed this little beauty, an orange sweetness to my eye.

All copyright reserved / Mark Berkery

The glory of the coming of the lord. Have you heard this song? I think I’ve heard it in some war movie, an American civil war movie. I’m not sure what it is meant to convey in a war movie but today when I was walking in the cool cold water of the sea the words came into my mind.

And I laughed, at the fit of it and the absurdity.

For me the glory is the simple pleasure of being in the senses and not in my mind. It was lovely in the cold water. It was lovely seeing the blue of the sky. It was lovely seeing the form of the clouds with the wind whistling in my ear. It was lovely to see the surf break up and tumble down into a rush of foam over my feet. It was just, lovely.

I went out early to check the bush for any activity and all the characters were still there except I couldn’t find the small spider and nest. It has rained a bit since yesterday and a day is a long time in an insect’s life. So I was pleased to see the durability of nature, the tenacity of the forms of life, once more demonstrated.

The assassin and the dramatic caterpillar were the main players and they had moved miles (to them) from where they were, many branches away. And still no sign of trouble in their appearance, just being what they are, doing what they do. Then there was a newcomer, a long brown caterpillar doing a good job of looking like a branch of the bush.

I wonder how man would fare on a bush where there are so many potentially hostile neighbours. Probably he’d break down from the stress of thinking about all the possible dangers and all the possible ways to die. Fear would probably rule. He’d probably set the bush on fire and live in a very safe pile of ash.

Is that what we have done?

All copyright reserved / Mark Berkery

After three days rain and cloud cover the temperature dropped to around 24C, very comfortable. Today it was straight back up to over 30C, very uncomfortable with all the evaporation. But it was sunny for a change.

There’s a universe in a bush. This one came down from Brisbane as a hitcher in another flower pot. I planted it to see what would grow. And it loves it here.

I was wandering in the garden this morning to see what came out with the sun and I stopped at the bush to have a close look. You wouldn’t believe how many creatures live on it. The first one I came across was the assassin bug, so called for its sword like proboscis that it plunges into its prey. It doesn’t really live on the bush because it has wings and can live anywhere it pleases. But today it was wandering around the bush in search of food.

A neighbour close by on another branch was this dramatic looking caterpillar fellow. He didn’t move much, just sitting there oblivious to time as we think of it. But when the wind blew and he was brushed by other leaves he shifted position to get clear.

He was about the same size as the assassin, maybe 3cm/4cm long in the body, and I don’t think they would have fought if they had met. But you never know with the assassin’s sword, and you never know with the threatening form and colour of the caterpillar, he might not taste good.

Then there was this little fellow, a baby Praying Mantis. He’s about 2cm long and he is a tiny but ferocious predator. If he hadn’t moved I would have missed him. It’s the change in the scene that attracts the attention.

There were numerous spiders of different kinds. There were a large number of green leaf spiders. They were good to watch sailing up and down on their strands of silk that allowed them to cross great divides of space between branches without having to go the long way round. Even a tiny orb spider was huddled up against the light.

And this one. I’m not sure what’s going on here. It looks like a mother looking out for her young. I definitely saw tiny spiders jumping from the nest attached to even finer strands of silk, ten to a pinhead, they were that small. But at the nest I could also see what looks like tiny grubs, I don’t think spiders evolve through a grub stage, but I could be wrong.

Maybe they were just a handy food source for the crafty spider and what I saw jumping was in fact the grubs on their fine silky lifeline looking to maximize their survival prospects by spreading throughout the bush.

There were many more creatures living on this bush, and many I didn’t see I’m sure. Next time you are out in the garden check out the universe next to you. You might be amazed.

All copyright reserved / Mark Berkery

Thunder is rumbling overhead, rain is falling gently on the puddles I can see out on the road, and lightning is flickering in the sky. It’s just a passing storm that will hit somewhere else unless it dies first. A storm has its time to die too. Everything is quiet outside my window except for the occasional passing bird.

There have been a lot of Swallows lately. When it’s not raining they are all lined up on the electricity wires at dusk. Preparing for the night ahead, I wonder where they sleep? A lone Swallow just parked himself on the wire, and a few more. Lovely creatures, birds. Beauty, I see it inside.

They’re gathering now in numbers, looking to see what I write about them. Well, they are great flyer’s. I often see them out over the paddock at the back of the house, taking insects on the wing. Their sight must be really sharp and their reaction time super fast.

I’ve been up close to them in another place and their general colouring is a wonderful petrol blue sheen in the black when the light is on them just right. The underbelly is lighter to almost white with an orangey brown spot up near the cheeks.

Messengers of the Gods they have been called and how could it be otherwise. You only have to be able to read the message.

I think the message is always the same and I never tire of hearing it. Eventually it sinks in. ‘Life is good’ is what I hear. What about you?

By the time I went out the swallows had gone but I thought I’d include this photo. Three ladies watching the sunset away in the hills through a lovely yellow misted rain from under heavy clouds.

I went to Mullumbimby today to get my favourite bread. Jordan‘s sourdough. The baker is a friendly young giant and his elves are as good a bunch as I’ve met anywhere. They are always up to their ears in flower and bread with the fans going full pelt to help cool it all down for delivery.

The baker is another kid of messenger, isn’t he, bringing food from the Gods.

Nothing like it, good old fashioned fresh crusty bread and butter. The basis for a good meal in my book.

It was nice to walk around the town, a thriving place but with a quietness about it. The main street was full of parked cars but nobody was in a hurry. And there was time to stop for people to cross the road. It’s one of the good things about the Australia I know, nobody’s in too much of a hurry.

All copyright reserved / Mark Berkery

The road outside is flooded again after the last couple of day’s rain. It has rained heavily, and what had already fallen for a while hadn’t yet run off to the sea as the land around here just soaks it up. And the coastal swampland/forest retains the water so it takes less rain to cause the same flooding.

I went to have a look and found a lot of caterpillars had been washed down this way. Many will have been drowned and many eaten by the birds, but that’s life. The birds are full and the farmers are pleased.

Down on the beach today there was only one other human, and he was running. He waved and smiled, we said hello.

Thunder rose from the surf, wild and windy it was. I’m sure I could hear the sand, megatons of it, being moved around by the sea by the shore. A gritty sound, like sand is. Dark clouds overhead, raining once in a while. Enough to keep most folk home it seems.

I just needed to get out. I’ve been working overtime on the blog site and it’s coming along nicely. Everything is finding its place and I do the next thing when I come to it.

Pictures are next, but not today. I’m still familiarizing myself with the software and how to do what I want without deleting anything. Finding out what can be done so it can be determined what I do.

Whenever I go to the beach, or anywhere near it, I always see these small white crabs disappearing down their holes. They always see me before I see them it seems. There are thousands of them and I have only seen the smallest of them in the open, a few centimeters across, until today.

There’s a little walkway from the road through the bush to the beach. It’s why I go to this particular spot, it’s very pleasant walking this track though it’s only half a kilometer long. There used to be a picnic area here but too many people used it for free camping so it was closed to cars.

The tables are still there and there is still a large cleared area that is open to the sky. And all around there are holes in the sandy ground where the little crabs live. The holes are all sizes, depending on the size of the crab. A small crab isn’t going to dig a large hole is he?

There is a large bushy area that I have discovered houses all sorts of insects. It’s a mecca for them, or it’s just relatively easy to see them here. There was the little Tiger Bug. And a new grasshopper I nearly missed, he blends in so well. Then this dragonfly flew in and around the place and finally settled down a few feet from me. The less I try to find them the more they sit for me.

What lovely and amazing creatures, the short broad Tiger Bug with its neat plump shape and bright colour. The hopper, disguised in plain view as the end of an eaten bunch of leaves, when I first saw it.

And that incredible dragonfly, this one could swivel its head, robot like, just like all the others of his kind I’ve seen close up. And look at those wrap around eyes, not much escapes his view at all.

When I finished taking these pix I turned towards the beach and as I moved I saw white, rapidly shifting on the ground near my feet. I stopped and looking down I saw the biggest white crab I’ve seen around here. They are all males today for some reason.

He quickly adopted that ‘don’t come near me or else’ posture some small creatures display when they feel threatened. Probably it works with the other predators around here to some degree, but I reckon their best bet is to run down a hole. Which is probably why they are so good at it.

Every natural creature naturally does what’s best for it. And everyone gets caught out some time. I caught him again looking like he thinks I can’t see him behind the grass.

Not much doing? It only feels that way to the unexcited mind.

These naturally uninhibited beings make me laugh sometimes.

All copyright reserved / Mark Berkery