On the weekend, a friend and I took advantage of milder weather, and walked along-side the river for a few kilometers, following it upstream until we came to another deep pool, similar to the one close to my house. Even though it has not rained yet, the springs have risen, and the flow in the river has increased quite a bit. It is sometimes said that if the springs rise, it is a sign of a good rainy season - one can just hope it is so. Each footfall created a whirl of dust, so parched is the soil. But it was lovely to be out exploring this beautiful land.
At the deep pool, we could see hundreds of tiny native fish swimming about, and there were signs of yabbies on the shallow edges. Then, appearing from the reeds and swimming into the centre, was another creature - a water rat. It seemed unconcerned at our presence, and swam and dived and swam and dived for some minutes, before going back into the shelter of the reeds again. At one point, we timed it underwater for 30 seconds. I was not sure whether it was an introduced rat or a native one, until I consulted my references at home. Yes, a native rat - Hydromys chrysogaster, also called a beaver rat. Its hindfeet are partially webbed, and its fur is water repellent, making it wonderfully adapted to aquatic life. In earlier times, this animal was hunted for its pelt, but this is now illegal. In a land where little wildlife still exists, it was exciting to know of another creature living undisturbed in its natural environment.
As we made our way homeward, we came across another indigenous animal out fossicking for food. It was an echidna! Such a surprise to see this one as well, particularly given that it was about midday by then, and echidnas tend to be more nocturnal. Not wishing to disturb the animal on the sandy bank, we climbed up onto the rocky edge above it. From that vantage point, we could watch it as it sniffed and dug for ants, its main food. Then two small hawks arrived, screeching at each other, as one appeared to be defending its territory from an intruder. One bird landed on a small bush very close to where we sat; we could sense it being there, but couldn’t move to see it properly without disturbing the scene. Seconds later it was gone again, still being chased by the other bird. When we returned our gaze to the echidna, it was no-where to be seen! Had it been disturbed by the birds? Had it caught our scent and headed away? No. It was just at the base of the rocky shelf, and beginning to make its way upward. Climbing and fossicking about the rock crevices, the echidna slowly made its way towards where we sat, passing within just an arms length. When it was close, it paused, sniffed the air with its long nose in our direction then continued with its business unconcerned. As it passed by me, I could see the spurs on its hind legs, a feature of males. Well, that answered that question.
When we had set out for our walk, we’d hoped to see something in the way of wildlife, but this had exceeded all expectations. Yet, isn’t it a pity that in this land that was once abundant in water and wildlife, the sighting of two creatures can be so remarkable. Once, they would have been plentiful, now they are a rare event.
Please, please, consider these and the many other creatures that are being lost to so-called progress. Step lightly and carefully on this Earth, be full of care for all.
