Ian Fraser, talking naturally

It's been pretty bitter round our part of the world of late; at 600 metres above sea level, and at the foot of often snowy mountains, we expect cold winters but somehow this one seems harsher than usual. Or maybe, or course, I'm just getting older... Whichever it is, it got me thinking about what it must be like for those organisms who live up in the nearby mountains, another 1300 or so metres higher than here. (And I'm talking about those organisms who can't retreat to an open fire and mulled wine after a day on the slopes.)

Square Rock Track, Namadgi National Park above Canberra.

There are, it seems to me, two separate major challenges for organisms who live up in those mountains. You must survive the long harsh winter, and then you must be able to grow quickly and reproduce rapidly in the short time available over summer. Today I've been mulling over the first of these imperatives, and have decided I can identify five basic strategies in use up there.

Stiff Upper Lip (or Macho) Strategy; "pretend nothing's happening and just carry on"

An obvious candidate for this one is the Common Wombat Vombatus ursinus. These large solitary burrowing marsupials stay up in their territory all year round. Of course living in a burrow is a big help, but they must still move out and graze on the tough snow grasses and buried tubers virtually every day, ploughing through the snow and digging into it when required.

Common Wombat near Canberra in milder weather. A big male can weigh close to 30kg.

Wombat tracks in the snow, Namadgi National Park.

Smaller vertebrates, surprisingly, can adopt this strategy too however. White-throated Treecreepers and even tiny Brown Thornbills will overwinter, utilising bark crevices which shelter the invertebrates they rely on.

White-throated Treecreeper Cormobates leucophaea on Snow Gum, Kosciuszko National Park.

But even more surprisingly a few invertebrates can be Stiff Upper Lippers too. The Spotted Alpine Grasshopper Monistria concinna quite unexpectedly can manage a slow crawl at 0 degrees, but makes no attempt to dig in as its relations do. It turns out that it can survive 'normal' winter conditions in the mountains quite well and has been known (presumably in artificial situations) to survive at -4 degrees for 20 days. It does so by synthesising sorbitol in its blood - in a car we'd call this chemical anti-freeze.

Spotted Mountain Grasshopper, Namadgi National Park - this one enjoying summer.

And perhaps the most obvious exponent of this strategy is the mighty Snow Gum Eucalyptus pauciflora, which dominates the high country up to the snow line.

Snow Gum, Mount Ginini, Namadgi National Park.
This magnificent old character has probably seen 200-300 winters.

Snow Gums, unlike northern hemisphere conifers which live with annual snow loads, are not shaped to shed snow, but allow it to pile up on stiff branches and large leaves. Perhaps they have had less time to evolve specialist adaptation, or perhaps our winters, compared with the far north, are not so harsh that other factors are more significant in shaping the trees.

Stay By the Fire Strategy: "grab a good book and wait until it's all over"

Perhaps counter-intuitively, down at ground level winter isn't really the harshest time of year up in the snow country - that comes in autumn, just before the snows, when the ground is exposed and cold and wet are deadly. Once there is a snow cover it provides an insulating layer, which is even more effective when piled over rocks which provide heat sinks. Below the snow the temperature remains even, and when it is at least 50cm deep it never drops below 0 degrees. At this temperature some small mammals can remain active all year round and maintain a healthy weight. One such is the attractive Broad-toothed Rat Mastacomys fuscus, which maintains runways under the snow right through winter in the sub-alpine bogs.

Broad-toothed Rat.
Photo courtesy Ken Green, NSW Environment and Heritage.

Mountain Plum Pine Podocarpus lawrencei growing over granites, Kosciuszko National Park.
In such a situation the under-snow space is even more extensive and significant.

Woody plants, and many grasses and sedges likewise survive winter under the snow.

Sedges emerging through the snow, Namadgi National Park.

Which brings us to the...

Sleep In Strategy; "set your alarm for spring"

As a result of the relatively balmy under-snow conditions just discussed, very few mammals here actually hibernate. One exception is the only marsupial alpine specialist, the Mountain Pygmy-Possum Burramys parvus which inhabits a tiny area of mountain country above the tree line.

Mountain Pygmy-Possum, courtesy Zoos Victoria.

Echidnas have relatively recently been shown to undergo a partial hibernation in Kosciuszko National Park, going into torpor under the snow for up to six weeks before waking up, going for a wander, then settling down again. I always find it satisfying when nature refuses to stay in the boxes we fashion for it.

The relatively few reptiles which live up in the snow country can only survive winter in a near-frozen state in burrows under rocks and logs; this probably applies to invertebrates such as spiders too.

Southern Water Skink Eulampris heatwolei, Tidbinbilla Nature Reserve.
Survives winter near-frozen.

The Batemans Bay or Grey Nomad Strategy; "clear off down to the coast or up north for winter"

Batemans Bay is a town on the coast not far from Canberra to where large numbers of human Canberrans migrate at all possible opportunities. Huge numbers of bird species, including many honeyeaters, spend summer breeding in the mountains and head north for winter. The short summers bring a bonanza of food in a concentrated burst, attractive to many species who have no interest in spending winter there.

Yellow-faced Honeyeater Lichenostomus chrysops,probably the most numerous of the high country migrants. Ever autumn tens of thousands
of them stream down out of the mountains heading for a warmer coastal winter.

Some other birds, including Laughing Kookaburras, Red Wattlebirds, Olive Whistlers and White-browed Scrub-wrens, seem to follow the snow line up and down as conditions vary.

Olive Whistler Pachycephala olivacea, Kosciuszko NP.
Locally, this somewhat mysterious possessor of an exquisite voice spends summer high
in the Snow Gums; some come down to over-winter in dense vegetation around Canberra, where they are quiet and
not often recorded, while others seem to come down only as far as the snow pushes them.

Millions of Bogong Moths Agrotis infusa also fly down out of the mountains at the end of summer, which they have spent in cool granite crevices high on the peaks. In their case though this is a reverse migration to that of the honeyeaters; they are heading north to breed on the black soil plains of northern New South Wales and Queensland, where it is too hot to spend summer and where they will all die after laying their eggs. Remarkably no moth makes the trip twice - the precise directions to the granite stacks is hard-wired into the DNA of the eggs in the ground.

Bogong Moth, Canberra. This one is resting on a door mat; they travel at night and many
shelter in Canberra homes during a day before moving on again.

Finally, there is the...

Ultimate Cop-out Strategy; "give up and leave the kids to carry on next year"

Many plants such as daisies die back as the snows approach, leaving seeds in the soil for next spring. Some animals, including many insects, do much the same; blowflies for instance lay their eggs into the soil where their larvae survive winter near-frozen.

Anyway, I hope my anthropomorphic approach to teasing out a pattern in these strategies hasn't put you off too much. I find a bit of fun can help the understanding process. With luck that's how you see it too... Stay warm until next time!

BACK ON TUESDAY, TO ACKNOWLEDGE BELGIUM'S NATIONAL DAY

1830 was a restive time in western Europe, with one branch of the French monarchy overthrowing another, and southern parts of the United Netherlands deciding they no longer wished to be quite so united. The ruling Dutch were expelled from these lands, and a constitution was drafted to found the country that we know as Belgium. It might seem a little strange now that the German aristocrat Leopold Saxe-Cobourg-Gotha was invited to become their king - a position he assumed on 21 July - but we in Australia aren't really in a position to say much on such a concept...

To mark the day, I'd like to introduce you, if any introduction is needed, to three 'Belgians' whose names live in the Australian bush as plants; I tried to find animals but to no avail, and I'd love it if you could help me. I use the cautionary apostrophes advisedly, as all three were born before Belgium was, and one died long before it was thought of.

That man was Rembert Dodoens, a Flemish botanist-doctor of the 16th century, though most of his adult life was spent abroad (or more accurately, outside of the borders of what was to become Belgium). He served as personal physician to the Austrian emperor, and ended his days at Leiden University in the Netherlands. He was immensely influential for decades after his death, with his mighty herbal Cruydeboeck (1554), which was also a plant classification, being translated into French and then English, as A New Herbal, or Historie of Plants. No book of its time other than the bible was translated into so many languages and editions; it is said that it retained its influence for over 200 years. English-Scottish botanist Philip Miller honoured him, well after his death, with a genus of plants. (Linnaeus had apparently already proposed the name but not properly published it, as far as I can gather.)

Dodonaea is in the family Sapindaceae, a genus of around 70 species scattered across the warmer regions of the world, but 60 of them are Australian, where they are found pretty much throughout the country.

Dodonaea boroniifolia, Tallong, New South Wales.
The papery winged fruits were reminiscent of those of hops, and early European settlers in Australia used
them in brewing. The results were not so impressive as to justify their continued use.


Some of the capsules, including this D. lobulata, Whyalla Conservation Park, South Australia, are quite striking.

The flowers on the other hand tend to be small and inconspicuous, wind-pollinated
and with separate male and female plants.
D. viscosa, Gawler Ranges NP, South America.

Joseph Decaisne was born much later than Dodoens, in 1807, and spoke French rather than Flemish. He did have in common though that he pursued his career away from his birthplace, in his case in Paris. It was not a straight-forward career; he studied painting, attended medical school and became an apprentice gardener! This led him, by paths too convoluted to follow here, to the Chair of Statistical Agriculture and Professor of Culture at the Paris Museum of Natural History, President of the French Academy of Sciences and Director of the Jardin des Plantes. He was regarded as France’s leading botanist of the time; he never visited Australia, but worked on Australian material provided by French expeditions. The great German-Australian botanist Ferdinand von Mueller named an inland tree for him, one of my very favourites - see here for more about the tree.

Desert Oaks Allocasuarina decaisneana, central Australia.
Chambers Pillar, above:
Uluru at sunset, below.

The third Belgian botanist featured today differs from the others in a very significant way, and a most unusual one for the time - her name was Marie-Anne Libert. Female scientists were very uncommon indeed in the early nineteenth century, and Marie-Anne, born in 1782, was fortunate that her abilities and interests were encouraged by her father. As a young girl she was an avid field naturalist, and taught herself Latin to be able to read more on the topics that most interested her. She became an internationally respected botanist, with an especial interest in liverworts and pathenogenic fungi; she was the first to identify the fungus which causes Potato Blight.

During her life the German botanist Kurt Sprengel named a lovely genus of irises for her. (She also got a genus of fungi, Libertiella, which she might have appreciated even more.) Libertia is found in Australia, New Guinea, New Zealand, and South America.

Libertia chilensis (above and below), Laguna Verde near Lago Llanquihue, southern Chile.
(For reasons that evade me I can't find any pics I've taken of the local species, an
omission I must rectify this spring.)

I am of course also very grateful to Belgium for producing what are very arguably the best chocolates and beers in the world, but this is not the place to rhapsodise in that direction....

I can't say "Happy National Day, Belgium" in Flemish, and it would be very churlish to say it only in French, but have a good one, and thanks for sharing Rembert, Joseph and Marie-Anne with us.

BACK ON SUNDAY

As mentioned previously, I've recently returned from a somewhat unexpected visit to Malaysian Borneo, and in that previous posting I promised more material from that exciting experience. Here's the first instalment. You might like to follow the link above to the previous posting for some background if you missed it, but it's certainly not essential.

Kota Kinabalu (pronounced ki-na-BAH-lu) is the capital of Sabah, in north-eastern Borneo. It is a busy - but by no means intimidating by developing nation standards - port city of around half a million.

Sabah occupies the north-eastern corner of Borneo; Kota Kinabalu can be seen on the west coast.

For travellers there are two general accommodation options. You can stay in city centre, near the port, or you can stay near the airport south of the city centre. I did both at different stages. During the trip, which started and ended at KK (to use the familiar name used by many locals) we returned partway through en route to Sarawak, and stayed in the centre, just a block from the waterfront. Even here wildlife was quite good (even aside from the very large and presumably exotic rats which pottered about the wonderful fish market, and the gang of introduced House Crows, the only ones in Borneo, which also loiter thereabouts). House Swifts and Glossy Swiftlets breed on buildings, and there are herons and terns in the port and various passerines in empty land nearby.

My favourite was near the airport, where I stayed at the start and end of the trip, close to the popular Tanjung Aru Beach (tanjung is a cape, and it's always abbreviated to Tg Aru), backed by extensive parklands with the unlikely name of Prince Philip Park. I stayed at the Casuarina Hotel, cheap and pleasant and just a few minutes walk from the beach and park. Just looking out the windows was a good introduction to the local birdlife.

It was a pleasant surprise to be greeted with so many trees.
Each afternoon storms rolled in, but didn't usually last long.

Asian Glossy Starlings Aplonis panayensis from my room balcony.
Huge numbers are everywhere, in town and out of it, seeking fruits.
They are closely related to, and similar in appearance to, the tropical Australian Metallic Starling A. metallica.

Oriental Magpie Robin Copsychus saularis, another widespread bird which has adapted to urban living,
as long as there are open spaces, from India to Java.
Formerly believed to be a thrush, it is now regarded as a flycatcher.

Much more familiar were these elegant White-breasted Woodswallows Artamus leucorynchus,found throughout much of Australia as well as Indonesia and the Philippines.

The beach and park are busy, especially on weekends (when I was there) but very worthwhile for birds in particular. The waterfront is lined with mostly cheap restaurants (and expensive bars) and a constant parade of people. The views though are excellent.

Views south (above) and north along Tg Aru Beach, lined with big casuarinas.
In the photo above the proximity of the airport is evident, just across the bay.

At sunset, at least on weekends, people flock to the beach to watch the sun set
over the islands of Tunku Abdul Rahman National Park.

On the Saturday afternoon I arrived the lawns under the plentiful trees of Prince Philip Park backing the beach were crowded with families and other groups picnicking, but there were still plenty of birds above their heads, though it took a while to see most of the ones alleged to be present. I returned early on the Sunday morning before my flight, and unsurprisingly did better then. The following photos are from a combination of those visits.

One of the highlights of Tg Aru is the presence of a colony of very rare Blue-naped Parrots Tanygnathus lucionensis, breeding in the hollows of old casuarinas. Formerly common throughout the nearby Philippines and islands between there and Borneo, it is now rare or extinct in much of its range.

Blue-naped Parrot in casuarina. There is actually some debate as to whether the Tg Aru population of this attractive and robust parrot should be regarded as feral or whether it arrived with Cyclone Greg in 1996.

The population, of apparently no more than 50 birds, is seemingly limited by the supply of nesting hollows.

There are some pretty spiffy pigeons too, in addition to the ubiquitous Spotted and Zebra Doves which are often underfoot.

Zebra Dove Geopelia striata, closely related to the Australian Peaceful Dove G. placida; indeed it is only recently that they have been regarded as separate species.
As with the parrot, there is debate as to whether the Bornean Zebra Doves are indigenous or
imported from nearby Indonesian islands.

The status of the beautiful Pink-necked Green Pigeon Treron vernans is not is doubt,
being found naturally in much of south-east Asia.
Can be in quite big flocks, including with other green pigeons.

The Green Imperial Pigeon Ducula aenea is another widespread and very handsome big pigeon,
wandering to follow the fruiting trees.

I initially mistakenly accused the Eurasian Tree Sparrows, which are everywhere, of being another exotic, but in fact their huge natural range stretches from western Europe to Indonesia. We in Australia are used to seeing House Sparrows everywhere, so this was a refreshing change, especially after I realised they were native!

Eurasian Tree Sparrows Passer montanus, really are handsome little birds.

Collared Kingfishers Todiramphus chloris are also common in near-coastal Borneo, but
have a huge range (not continuous) from the middle east to the Pacific.
Unlike in Australia, Bornean Collared Kingfishers are not limited to mangroves and are quite common in towns.


This very pretty little waxbill, Chestnut Munia Lonchura atricapilla, has a large range in south and south-east Asia, including throughout much of Borneo. My first sighting of a flock of them at Tg Aru was a treat however.

So, if you've been to KK, I hope this brings back some memories. If not, I hope it encourages you to spend at least a few hours there when you visit Sabah.

BACK ON FRIDAY

In Quichua, the language once spoken by the Incas and still spoken by many indigenous Ecuadorians, Pacha Quindi means 'place of the hummingbirds'. It's not hard to see why Tony Nunnery and Barbara Bolz chose it for their superb and inspiring cloud forest home property in the Andes north-west of Quito. Their 'garden' - defined a little broadly perhaps, but not unreasonably - boasts the largest number of hummingbird species ever recorded in one place. That number is 42! They claim that on most days of the year you can see up to 19 species in an hour.

Part of the Pacha Quindi garden; the cleared area is immediately surrounding Tony and Barbara's house
with regenerating cloud forest hemming it in on all sides.

Tony and Barbara arrived in the upper Tandanyapa Valley nearly 20 years ago and bought first 30 hectares of land - a mix of forest and cleared cattle pasture - and with outside assistance later added another 50 neighbouring hectares. With a vast amount of physical labour and a lot of experimentation they set about first removing the densely matted exotic pasture grasses, and then encouraging the return of the forest, by direct planting (including of over 6000 trees) and by enabling natural regeneration to proceed. The results are remarkable.

Photo from the Pacha Quindi garden.
A decade or so ago the ridge across the valley (as well as the foreground) was devoid of native vegetation.

They employed local workers - often the same people who'd helped clear the forest to start with - but their very limited resources did not permit this on a permanent basis.

Tony was from Mississippi, where his family ran a building business, so he was equipped to tackle the task of building their beautiful timber home, which originally stood in the cow paddocks until they developed the garden around it. And with the plants came the hummingbirds; these cloud forests on the equator are fabulously rich in these amazing birds. Each hummer species has its preferred flowers, to which its bill has evolved in size and shape, and when these flowers are absent the provision of hanging hummingbird feeders helps ease the stress. However when the flowers are present, the birds eschew the feeders; in any case the feeders, charged with a sugar solution, do not provide the protein the birds need, which they obtain from insects and pollen. Nonetheless the 30 or so feeders use up to 40 kilograms of sugar a week in peak demand period (in February, when it is coldest and energy demands are correspondingly high). The birds drink over $1000 worth of sugar a year!

Hummingbirds at Pacha Quindi feeder.
The stunner centre front, with his back to us, is a male Violet-tailed Sylph Aglaiocercus coelestis;
the rest are Buff-tailed Coronets Boissonneaua flavescens.

It is essential to refill every day with fresh sugar water to prevent the risk of disease from contaminated solutions; each feeder must be regularly cleaned too.

Visitors are very welcome, but don't expect to just drive up the mountain and turn in when you see the sign. The access is unmarked, and comprises an obscure foot track through the roadside grass, which emerges in the lovely garden above the house. They need no driveway as they don't have a vehicle but use the local buses to go to town when required. Powerlines cross their land, but they have refused the offers to be connected to the electricity grid, opting for simplicity. They don't eat animal protein, so don't need refrigeration, and can run their computer and charge phones from solar-charged batteries.

Looking down through epiphytes to the village of Tandanyapa in the valley below;
Tandanyapa lies almost exactly on the equator.

To find them, visit the newly erected web site here: http://www.pachaquindi.com/ They can advise the best way to visit, or you can make arrangements through travel agencies. Local lodges can also help in theory, and often will in practice, though there have been some unfortunate incidents when staff of neighbouring lodges, presumably seeking to protect their employer's market share, have lied to guests about either not knowing of Pacha Quindi or even claiming it had closed. Don't believe such stories - Tony and Barbara aren't going anywhere soon!


Tony Nunnery in his garden - he is a great communicator, passionate, articulate and funny. He and Barbara met in Germany (from where she comes) and travelled south through the Neotropics before settling in Ecuador.

They do ask a very modest entry fee - $10 last I was there - which goes a little way towards maintaining the place and enabling them to live their very basic lives while doing their very important work. For that you'll get an amazing bird list and a never-forgotten experience. They have got small NGO grants in the past, Tony does bird guiding for a company from time to time to replenish the coffers, and your entry money - whether you go alone or with one of the bird tour companies who increasingly take their clients there - all helps keep it going.

However you can help more if you so desire too, by clicking on the Donations button on the web page. No, just saying - I have no vested interest whatever in the place, beyond what any caring person should.

In addition to the hummingbirds, over 300 bird species have been recorded for the property - which Tony claims, somewhat impishly, makes it the longest back yard bird list in the world. Many of these are Chocó endemics, the Chocó being the ridiculoulsy wet western slopes of the Andes in north-western Ecuador and adjacent Colombia; it is one of the world's great biodiversity hotspots and boasts more than 50 endemic bird species. In addition the mammal list for the property is startling, including Andean Bear, Puma and the remarkably recently 'discovered'Olinguito. Not to mention the amazing botanical richness.

Unidentified (by me!) orchid along one of the network of lovely walking tracks in the forest.
(As ever I'd be glad of your assistance.)
One of these tracks leads to a raised and enclosed bird hide facing the forested slope.

I was startled to discover how few photos of Pacha Quindi I have, which doesn't make sense given how many images I have in my mind! I can only suppose that I've been so entranced by the place when I've been there that I've just forgotten my camera, not something I do often! Here are a few anyway.

Eighty-eight Butterfly Diaethria anna under the house; named for the wing pattern.
(Thanks Rainer!)


Toucan Barbet Semnornis ramphastinus, a very special bird, one of the Chocó endemics, and readily seen from the garden at Pacha Quindi. Its wonderfully melodious honking is one of the sounds of the cloud forests in this part of the world. Now not regarded as either toucan or barbet, but one of only two memebers of the newly erected family Semnornithidae.

And I do have a couple of hummingbird pictures at least!

Wedge-billed Hummingbird Schistes geoffroyi. An uncommon hummer which sometimes
(but not always) 'cheats' by puncturing the base of flowers with its awl-like bill to steal nectar.
A regular in the garden.

Brown Inca Coeligena wilsoni is restricted to the west slopes of the Andes, in Ecuador and Colombia.

White-tailed Hillstar Urochroa bougueri, another scarce hummingbird resident at Pacha Quindi.
This bird regularly roosts on garden implements under the house!

Pacha Quindi is not yet on the main ecotourist trail, but that's changing, and so it should. I'd love you to support Tony and Barbara's work however you can - and the first way to do so would be to visit them!

It's always a highlight of my visits to Ecuador - and Ecuador is a treasure trove of highlights. One more memory of Pacha Quindi, not of its natural wonders. By now you won't be amazed to hear that Tony and Barbara are also accomplished musicians (Tony studied music composition) and as we left in fading light from my first visit there, we were followed by a superb and energetic jazz piano solo from Tony. Every now and then I wonder how they got the piano from the road down to the house - and how they keep their instruments tuned in 100% humidity. But everything about Pacha Quindi is pretty wonderful.

BACK ON WEDNESDAY

It's been a while since I posted another in my sporadic series of favourite botanic gardens, so I thought I'd compensate today with two for the price of one, both of which I visited (one for the first time) on my recent trip to tropical Queensland. Both these were visited on the trips up and back - Emerald is within the tropics by only about 15km, Goondiwindi ('gun-da-WINdy') much further south, though still sub-tropical. Both have average rainfalls between 600 and 650mm a year, with most falling in summer (more pronounced for Emerald). Both are only around 200 metres above sea level and can get very hot in summer. Despite these apparent similarities however their respective botanic gardens, which both had their genesis in the late 1980s - and are both delightful in their own ways - are very different indeed.

Emerald is (naturally) at the end of the green arrow, Goondiwindi is indicated by the red one.

Perhaps appropriately, the Emerald gardens are much greener; on the shores of the Nogoa river (which flows, via the Fitzroy River, east into the Pacific) I assume the river is used to irrigate them. The town name, incidentally, comes from the name of the cattle station on which it was built, which of course explains nothing at all.


Emerald Botanic Gardens, on the banks of the Nogoa River. While plantings are of course significant - many, but certainly not all, being native - lawns and picnic tables feature heavily. A council overnight caravan parking area is just outside the gates, and the gardens provide patrons with facilities.

Some of the central shady lawns, well used by visitors and locals (the latter including many birds).

Purportedly there are six kilometres of walking tracks in 42 hectares of land; without in any way
calling this figure into doubt, I'm sure I didn't see all those hectares. Perhaps there is more
undeveloped land along the river, or perhaps the surrounding playing fields are included.

The gardens opened in 1987 - though I don't have any details on the history of their development - and are managed by the local council.

Palms feature heavily; above is one of the palm groves through which the tracks pass.
Below is a very impressive specimen of the magnificent Madagascan Traveller's Palm Ravenala madagascariensis.(Well, actually it's not a palm at all, but in the family Strelitziaceae, but why spoil a story...)

I have no doubt that this oasis in a busy mining-oriented town has lots of wildlife, but I was only there fairly briefly during the afternoon and saw mostly common species. Still, no reason not to celebrate them too.

Laughing Kookaburra Dacelo novaeguineae, utilising the facilities.

Rainbow Lorikeets Trichoglossus moluccanus attracted by scattered seed. Not such a great idea,
as they are very pugnacious and will drive other birds off, but they really are gorgeously coloured.

However, other residents are pretty capable of looking after themselves, including these big honeyeaters.

Yellow-throated Miners Manorina flavigula are aggressive, colonial inland dwellers.

Blue-faced Honeyeater Entomyzon cyanotis, a striking big honeyeater of the inland east and the tropics.
This is a young bird without a strongly blue face.

The Goondiwindi gardens are very different in intent and their appearance is accordingly also very different; their formal name, Botanic Gardens of the Western Woodlands, reflects this. Their 22 hectares were gazetted in 1987, following determined action by a committee of local field naturalists to turn a newly excavated area of degraded woodland to good use. They were supported by the local council who acted as a trustee and later by a federal Bicentennial grant in 1988 and by private donations.

Welcome to the gardens, on the northern edge of town.

Plantings began in 1988 of thousands of trees and shrubs across the site but I can't determine when the gardens opened to the public. The key difference between this garden and Emerald's is that the Goondiwindi committee determined from the start that the focus was to be exclusively on the plants of the upper Darling catchment; the plantings represent species of 27 plant communities within this semi-arid area. (The Darling is one of the two major rivers of the mighty Murray-Darling Basin which dominates south-eastern Australia, flowing to the sea on the south coast.)


The large lake, with island, is the focal point of the gardens. It was excavated in the 1980s to provide fill for the nearby raised bulk grain storage facility. To their credit the council at the time insisted that the perimeter shape and 'island' be left suitable for a future possible lake.

As with Emerald, there are lawns and covered areas (including the concert stand below) to serve the community, in addition to the magnificent plantings.

But it's the plantings that I'll be going back for whenever I'm in that part of the world again. Given the age of them, it's not always clear what are planted and what original, but that adds to the attraction and of course as years go by the lines will be increasingly blurred.


Queensland Bottle Tree Brachychiton rupestris. Labelling is generally excellent.

Weeping Myall Acacia pendula; a very elegant wattle of the western plains.

River Cooba Acacia salcina, a wattle mostly associated with watercourses.

Wilga Geijera parviflora, Family Rutaceae. A beautiful spreading small tree, the appearance of whose
delicate small flowers bely the fact that they are pollinated by blowflies, and smell accordingly...

Senna sp.; there are many species, and within some species a bewildering array of sub-species
with different leaf forms. I don't blame them for not labelling this one, and I can't help!

Nonetheless, as previously noted, the signage is overall very good.

An Eremophila garden is always of interest to me; the signage is broadly informative, well beyond
just identifying plants.

Sadly these Australian Wood Ducks seemed both uninterested in the information on the wetland reclamation
details, and heedless of the warning, as they took to the 10 metre deep water immediately afterwards.
I must admit that they did seem to know that they were doing...

We were travelling fairly long distances on the return trip and didn't have much time for birding (and it was the middle of the day) but this beauty made up for that.

Scaly-breasted Lorikeet Trichoglossus chlorolepidotus, a smaller and relatively demure relation
of the raucous and pushy Rainbows (see above), feeding on eucalyptus blossom.

If you're passing through either of these towns - and many people do - please make the time to visit their gardens. You won't be disappointed.

(Any hints for gardens, especially native ones, that I should visit would be gratefully received.)

BACK ON THURSDAY

Well actually they're not grasses, and only ambiguously trees, but Xanthorrhoea is never going to catch on as a common name, and the old name of 'blackboy' (for the supposed resemblance of the silhouette to an indigenous man holding a spear) has no place in today's world. I grew up in South Australia calling them Yaccas, and Balga is often used in the south-west of the country, but these are purely regional and so we seem to be left with grass-tree for now at least. It is evocative though.

Large (and very beautiful) X. glauca along the Mount Kiangarow Track, Bunya Mountains NP, Queensland.
In general the species are not distinguished at common name level, though some are, at least locally.

So, what are these plants that must look pretty strange to eyes that didn't grow up with them? For a start they're monocots, and indeed fall within the broad 'lily' grouping. (For more on lilies, see here and work forward from there.) All 30-odd species are Australian, and all belong to the genus Xanthorrhoea. Traditionally they formed their own family (though if we go far enough back we'll find they've had a convoluted taxonomic history) but modern thinking would include the aloe family Asphodelicaceae and bigger family Hemerocallidaceae (in Australia that incorporates flax lilies, rush lilies, grass lilies etc) as sub-families within Xanthorrhoeaceae.

It is a common misconception that grass-trees are an ancient group but it seems in fact that they are a recent rapidly-evolving genus.

The apparently woody stems possessed by most species are in fact hollow; the meristem, which grows outwards as well as upwards, is surrounded by the woody bases of old leaves which have dropped off as they become shaded out by newer ones above - the characteristic hanging 'skirt' of dead leaves can be seen in the photo above.

These Desert Grass-trees X. thorntonii on the Mereeni Loop Road in central Australia
exhibit the typical rough grass-tree stem, formed by the ends of the leaf bases.
This is the only grass-tree that grows in the central deserts.

Cross-section of grass-tree stem.

The flower spike, comprising thousands of tiny lily-like flowers, may be several metres high. Flowering does not rely on fire, but is stimulated by it. However it doesn't flower immediately, but in the winter-spring after a summer fire; if the fire comes later in the year the mass flowering may be delayed until the second winter.

X. semiplana flowers Wanilla CP, Eyre Peninsula, South Australia.

Unburnt X. glauca flower spike growing by road in Goobang NP, New South Wales.

X. platyphylla flowering in a burnt landscape, Fitzgerald River NP, Western Australia.
Each leaf base protects a growing bud, which starts growing immediately the living leaf is burnt off.

Mass post-fire flowering of X. australis, Brisbane Ranges NP, Victoria.

These flower spikes provide a huge nectar resource when flowering and an unusually wide range of pollinators visit them, from gliders, bats and other mammals at night, to insects, honeyeaters and lorikeets during the day.

Hoverfly Family Syrphidae revelling in the abundant nectar of X. glauca, Goobang NP.

Only a few of the numerous flowers will be successfully pollinated, but this still produces a large crop of hard seeds when the flower spike dries out.

Seed cases - many of them opened - on X. semiplana, Wanilla CP, South Australia.

To Aboriginal people, grass-trees were of immense significance. The powdery resin was used for gluing tool heads to handles and as such was an important trade item. The same resin was regarded as an important medicine, and as a lacquer for smoothing and sealing surfaces. Pieces of the flower stalk were rubbed to make fire, and the resin was very flammable, so dried leaves made excellent kindling. The stalks were used as light spear shafts. Grass-trees were also a very diverse food source; edible grubs were found at the base of the plant, the base of the young inner leaves was eaten raw or cooked, the seeds crushed to make flour, and honey was extracted from the flower spike by drawing leaves up the stem, or by soaking it in water for a sweet drink. The fibrous leaves were woven into shelters.

X. glauca overlooking the dry plains of inland south-east Queensland, Bunya Mountains NP.

Europeans processed the resin to make medicines (including, I am intrigued to read, for both diarrhoea and constipation!), perfumes, varnish and explosives; it is said that Germany imported a lot for the latter purpose (based on the picric acid it contains) prior to the first World War. The fibrous trunks were used as brake blocks for steel wagon tyres.

Ancient X. glauca, Bunya Mountains NP.

In case it wasn't clear, I just love grass-trees. They are, to me, quintessentially Australian; however I am delighted, even anxious, to share them with you wherever you're reading this. I hope you can enjoy them too, though there's no substitute for meeting them on their home ground.

BACK ON WEDNESDAY

One of the great drives in Australia, in my opinion only of course, is across the great wild extent of the Barkly Tableland in the north-east of the Northern Territory. It's sealed all the way, so a bit disappointing if you're looking for four-wheel drive adventure, but in the 460 kilometres from Tennant Creek on the Stuart Highway to Camooweal just inside Queensland there is only one 'settlement', the Barkly Homestead Roadhouse which also incorporates a nice camping area and rooms.

Approximate position of the Barkly Tableland - its boundaries are not precisely defined, and some
would have it stretching further east into Queensland or south in the Northern Territory.

Sealed roads notwithstanding, this is not country to take lightly; this is the start of the Tablelands Highway
which runs north from Barkly Homestead to the Carpentaria Highway near Borroloola.
And it's single lane all the way, which means pulling partly off the bitumen when someone's coming towards you.
If that someone is a huge roadtrain, then my strong advice is to get completely off and let them have the tar!
A rock thrown up by one of those could end your trip.

The Barkly is essentially a vast grassland on the cracking black soil plains which don't support tree growth; the heavy clays swell when wet and break up with deep wide cracks when dry, which pulls tree seedling roots apart. The east-west Barkly Highway however skirts the major Mitchell Grass grasslands to the north. The Tablelands Highway, running north from the Barkly Homestead (about halfway across the Barkly Highway) is a better option for viewing the pure treeless grasslands, but the eastern end of the Barkly Highway gives access to them.

Starting from the west the highway runs through lovely low shrubland with scattered eucalypts.

Acacia hilliana and Grevillea wickhamii east of Tennant Creek.

Acacia hilliana is a lovely flat-topped wattle which grows on poor soils from the Western Australian Pilbara to the Queensland border.We were there in late May, when it was in full bloom.

It was named for a remarkable character called Gerald Freer Hill, born 1880, who went from orchardist to
shorthand instructor to self-taught naturalist, to the first entomologist to be employed by the precursor of
Commonwealth Scientific and Industrial Research Organisation (the peak national science body, at least until
the current anti-science federal government began slashing its funding)
and eventually the country's foremost termite expert.
Hill collected the type specimen on one of his collecting trips to northern Australia.

This is not the only acacia to feature prominently. Turpentine Wattle Acacia lysiphloia also has a wide range across northern Australia.

Turpentine Wattle is notorious for burning away completely in a bushfire, leaving a sharp up-pointing
stake at ground level. The eucalypt is Silver Box E. pruinosa which is here at its southern-most limit,
but further north can dominate landscapes, and most attractively.

I hope you're now getting the sense of a rich - perhaps surprisingly rich if you've not experienced this country - and diverse landscape of flowering plants. Here on the fringes of the grassy plains there are certainly trees, perhaps most notably the beautiful but somewhat ominously titled Snappy Gum E. leucophloia.

Snappy Gum, which grows on gravelly soils across the tropics.

Other trees might be less familiar, though in some cases we know the genus well from shrubs in other places.

Beefwood Grevillea striata. This one is pretty straggly, but it can grow as a straight furrow-barked tree
to 15 metres tall. A few unrelated Australian trees were called beefwood by our carnivorously Freudian ancestors.
(I think we can assume they were referring to the timber's appearance rather than its culinary qualities!)

And in each of these photos grasses are prominent in the understorey. This predominance increases with the prevalence of the cracking clay soils.

Mitchell Grasses Astrebla spp. coming to the fore in ground coverage.
These support significant stock grazing on the tableland - along with native herbivores and numerous
seed-eaters - but the pressures seem not to have caused the catastrophic changes
suffered by grasslands elsewhere in Australia.

And where there are grasses - especially the spiky hummocks of Porcupine Grass, or Spinifex Triodia spp. - there will be termites in vast numbers.

Termite mounds in spinifex, Barkly Highway.
Termites in Australia have been likened in biomass to large grazing mammals in grasslands
elsewhere, with lizards playing the role of carnivores.

The point where the cracking clays suddenly take over is marked by a line so sudden as to be startling - nature is usually more nuanced than that.

Abruptly the trees are no more - the line can be seen continuing into the background.

After that, only a very occasional tree - usually growing in a sandy ephemeral stream bed - breaks
the vistas that stretch to the horizons.

Eventually, as we approach the Queensland border, we come to another unexpected sight - a river!

The James River flows south, into the Georgina River in south-west Queensland and
ultimately, in a a rare very wet La Niña year, into Lake Eyre in the deserts of South Australia.

White-faced Heron Egretta novaehollandiae and Giant Waterlilies Nymphaea gigantea;unexpected sights after hours in semi-arid shrubland and grassland!

It wasquite cool when we crossed, so no reptiles to see, though there were certainly birds around, especially where water had been provided by bores for stock or at scattered rest stops, such as Sowden Bore where the following were taken.

Zebra Finches Taeniopygia guttata (one of my favourite Australians) will always find water. Their dry seed
diet compels them to drink daily, though they live in the driest parts of the continent.
These seemed entirely blasé about the warning sign!

Deep pits - I suspect from road fill quarries - provide sporadic dams (when the summer monsoons drift south) which support stands of the Broadleaf Paperbark Melaleuca viridiflora whoseflowers are nearly as attractive to us as they are to visiting honeyeaters.

Brown Honeyeater Lichmera indistincta, found across most of the country except for the south-east.
Nor was its interest in the paperbark flowers purely aesthetic!

As for the grasslands, one of the birds I always look forward to on the Barkly is the elegant Australian Pratincole Stiltia isabella; its folk-name of Swallow-plover sums up its elegance very nicely. This time we found it during a late afternoon detour up the Tablelands Highway (actually looking for Letter-winged Kites, a perennial birding bête noir of mine - ironic really, given that they're white!).

Australian Pratincole on the Tablelands Highway - literally! This beautiful bird breeds in arid inland southern Australia
and in winter migrates north; some stay in tropical Australia, others continue as far as south-east Asia.
It is the only pratincole (family Glareolidae) not a member of the genus Glareola.

There is much more to the Barkly than this sketchy introduction but I do hope this has been enough to encourage you to plan your next northern Australian trip so that you can experience it for yourself. You won't regret it, and it will be more than Victorian Governor Henry Barkly, for whom it was named, ever did.

BACK ON WEDNESDAY

Back in 1885, just 13 years after Yellowstone National Park in the USA became the world's first national park, and only six years after Royal National Park in Sydney became Australia's first and the world's second, Russell Falls Reserve, 60 kilometres north-west of Hobart, was also declared (under the Waste Lands Act 1863!). The concern was primarily for protection of the scenery, as a basis for passive recreation. The 120 hectare reserve included both Russell and Horseshoe Falls at the foot of the mountain.

Russell Falls, set in wet forest and surrounded by Tree Ferns and with a
Blackwood Wattle Acacia melanoxylon growing in the stream.

Horseshoe Falls, near to Russell Falls and on the same walking track.
People visit the falls and forests for recreation now, as colonial Tasmanians did in the 19th century.

For those unfamiliar with Australia's geography, Tasmania is the island state off
the south-east coast, separated from the mainland by Bass Strait.

Mount Field is here indicated by the end of the red arrow.

In 1916 Mount Field and Freycinet Peninsula on the east coast were simultaneously declared the first national parks in Tasmania under the new Scenery Preservation Act. The mount - and subsequently park - were named for the wonderfully monickered Barron Field (very Dickenesque!) who came to Australia to take up a post as judge of the Supreme Court of New South Wales. He is better known however as the author of the 12 page best-seller First Fruits of Australian Poetry, though one might reasonably think some of the fruits to have been significantly over-ripe. As far as I can tell he never went to Tasmania.

The change in vegetation from near sea level at the entrance station to 1000 metres higher at Lake Dobson is dramatic. At the base the wet eucalypt forest is dominated by huge Eucalyptus regnans (Swamp Gum in Tasmania, Mountain Ash across the strait in Victoria) and E. obliqua, Messmate Stringybark. Swamp Gum (when in Rome...) is known as the world's tallest flowering plant and second only to Coastal Redwood Sequoia sempervirens of California; the tallest known specimen, from Victoria, was 132 metres high. The ones on Mount Field aren't of that stature, but are ancient and massive.

Swamp Gums over Tree Ferns, Mount Field

Massive base of ancient Swamp Gum

Swamp Gum 79 metres tall, Mount Field.

These forests drip, as evidenced by the height of the trees and the understorey.

Soft Tree Ferns Dicksonia antarctica and mosses, both of lineages far older than the eucalypts'.

Further up the mountain are temperate rainforests, though the eucalypts, especially the Messmate Stringybarks, penetrate their lower levels.

Messmate Stringybark base, growing in Sassafras (Atherosperma moschatum), family Atherospermataceae,
of old Gondwanan stock.
Messmate is of historic interest, as the first eucalypt to be scientifically described, having been collected
at Adventure Bay in Tasmania on James Cook's third expedition in 1777.
The specimens were lodged at Kew Gardens where they were studied by French botanist
Charles Louis L'Heritier de Brutelle.

A feature of the Tasmanian rainforests is the presence of pines of old Gondwanan families.

Celery-top Pine Phyllocladus aspleniifolius, Family Podocarpaceae, Mount Field.

Underfoot in the rainforest, mosses become even more dominant.

Mosses, Mount Field rainforests, above and below.

Then near the top of the mountain are sub-alpine woodlands, dominated by the endemic Tasmanian Snow Gum Eucalyptus coccifera.

Old Tasmanian Snow Gums, Wombat Moor, Mount Field.

I love the name Wombat Moor! The understorey to these snow gums is the evocatively - and utterly inaccurately! - named Pineapple Grass, actually a lily Astelia alpina Family Asteliaceae.

Pineapple Grass under Snow Gums, Wombat Moor.

Outside of these Snow Gum stands, the moor is largely treeless (as a moor should be!)


Wombat Moor, Mount Field. The start of the long walk to Lake Belcher passes through here.

Nearby however is a much shorter walk, and to my mind the loveliest in the park. The Pandani Grove walk passes through woodland around delightful little Lake Dobson; on these sheltered slopes the trees grow thickly and there is a rich understorey. The Pandani reference is to a big heath Richea pandanifolia, called Pandanus in Tasmania, though totally unrelated to the true pandanus of the tropics. Here are some highlights of this walk.

Pandanus growing in White Peppermint Eucalyptus pulchella woodland, Lake Dobson.


Pandanus in a rainforest pocket of Myrtle Beech Nothofagus cunninghamii, Lake Dobson.

Tasmanian Snow Gums, Mount Dobson.
New bark, above, and by the lake below.

Old Pencil Pine Athrotaxis cupressioides Family Cupressaceae, on the shore, Lake Dobson.

Pandanus buds, Lake Dobson.

Another heath, Trochocarpa thymifolia, Lake Dobson

And another, Cyathodes petiolaris.
All three of these heaths are Tasmanian endemiics.

Yet another Tasmanian endemic, Lomatis polymorpha, family Proteaceae.

This high level of endemism is typical of islands, and it is certainly true of Tasmania, yet another reason to visit.

You can make an easy day trip from Hobart to Mount Field - as we did on this occasion - or better still you can camp on site. Whatever you decide, your Tassie trip will be deficient if you don't spend at least a few hours there.

BACK ON WEDNESDAY

Acacias are fundamental to Australian landscapes, though we sometimes forget here that they are equally characteristic of many African ones.

Mulga Acacia aneura woodland, Chambers Pillar, central Australia.

Acacia woodland, Murchison Falls NP, Uganda.

The minor tensions generated between Australian and African botanists by our tendency to think of acacias as 'ours' came to a head in 2003 with a proposal from a couple of Australian botanists to change the type specimen of Acacia from an African one to an Australian one. This was breathtakingly cheeky, with very little precedent, and was based on two factors. The first was the growing acceptance that Acacia as traditionally used for plants across Africa, Australia and America (and a few other places) was an artificial genus, comprising at least five distinct genera. The second is the fact that the majority of Acacias are Australian (some 1000 of the 1300 known species) which would have involved a massive task in changing names here. After consideration by subcommittees the proposal to change the rules in this case was ratified by the International Botanical Congress in Vienna in 2005, but challenged on procedural grounds. After another sometimes bitter six years the original decision was upheld at the next Congress in Melbourne in 2011.

However for some it didn't actually end there, with a number of influential botanists preferring to go on using Acacia in its broad sense and ignoring the Congress rulings. I don't share the sense of triumphalism some in Australia were displaying after the decision, and have sympathy with these bolshie botanists - if we can change the rules for one circumstance, we can do it whenever it seems convenient in the future. I can't help but think this might come back to bite us one day.

For the record, African acacias are now either Vachellia or Senegalia. Both these genera are also significant in South America, along with smaller genera Acaciella and Mariosousa. A few species of Vachellia and Senegalia also occur in tropical Australia. Had the normal rules been followed, the rest of Australian acacias would now be Racosperma.

Anyway, what I really wanted to talk about was the way Acacia foliage in Australia has evolved so differently in Australia from elsewhere (and for now for simplicity I'm going to continue to refer to Acacia in the older broader sense but to avoid controversy I'll use lower-case acacia as a group name!). In both Africa and America acacias are typified by divided - pinnate - leaves.

acacias in northern Cameroon (above)
and near Machu Picchu (Peru) below.

Many Australian acacia species - though a definite minority - also have compound leaves, with foliage ranging from having just a few pinnae (leaflets) to scores.

Acacia spectabilis Goobang NP, central New South Wales

Acacia elata, coastal New South Wales

Acacia deanei Goobang NP, central New South Wales.

Most of these leafy acacias live in moister parts of Australia; an advantage of compound leaves is that they confer a larger surface area which enables higher levels of photosynthesis, but the trade-off is in greater water loss.

Accordingly a very large number of Australian acacias, especially in drier situations, have done away with their leaves altogether, at least as adult plants. However, it's of course not that simple - if you're a plant you need leaves to photosynthesise, and there's no using conserving water if you can't function. So the compromise solution has been the evolution of phyllodes in Australian acacias (phyllodes are not unique to acacias, but they are probably most dominant there). A phyllode is a petiole - a leaf stalk - which has shed its leaf, flattened out and taken chlorophyll on board to take over the photosynthetic role. In acacias the phyllodes tend to hang down or stand stiffly erect to minimise exposure to the sun, and are tough and leathery (like a eucalypt leaf) to minimise water loss. Here is a small sample of the numerous phyllode types that Australian acacias display.

Acacia anceps Eyre Peninsula, South Australia

Acacia floribunda, south coast New South Wales

Acacia hakeoides Goobang NP central New South Wales

Acacia inaequalitaria Kata Tjuta NP, central Australia

Acacia monticola Ormiston Pound, west MacDonnell Ranges, central Australia

Acacia pycnantha Canberra.
This is Australia's floral emblem, Golden Wattle

Acacia retivenea Bladensberg NP, tropical central Queensland

Acacia spondylophylla Ormiston Pound, west MacDonnell Ranges, central Australia

Acacia triptera Goonoo NP central western New South Wales

The hard spiky phyllodes on this last species, known as Spurwing Wattle, raise another interesting difference between Australian and other acacias; you'll note the Cameroonian and Peruvian species above both sport savage thorns (though they're less obvious in the Peruvian photo). Here are a couple more examples.

northern Cameroon

Acacia (Vachellia) rorudiana, Santa Cruz, Galápagos

Thorns, botanically, are modified pointed branches, complete with their own vascular system, which cannot be removed without tearing the wood; Australian acacias don't have them. It seems equally odd that they either never evolved them in the face of the large browsing herbivores which inhabited Australia until relatively recently while most of their relatives elsewhere did, or that they all lost them at some point in the past. Neither makes much sense to me.

However there a number of spiky Australian acacias, most of which rely, like the Spurwing Wattle above, on toughened sharp phyllodes.

Acacia genistifolia Canberra

Acacia tetragonophylla south-west Queensland.
This is known as Dead Finish, the logic being that if it dies of drought, there's no hope for anything else.

Other plant parts also provide protection however for some species.

Acacia paradoxa Canberra.
In this one - Kangaroo Thorn - the spikes are stipules, growing from the base of the petiole.

Acacia spinescens Lincoln NP South Australia.
Here the branches themselves are spike-tipped. (Technically I suppose they could thus be thorns,
but that usually refers to smaller branches growing off the main ones.)

And there's another thing...


Acacia mearnsii Canberra. Note the glands along the branch.

Such glands are common in African species, where they attract aggressive ants which defend the plant. In Australia however this does not seem to be the case, though you can find some websites which should know better asserting that it is - they have simply used African data. The Australian glands do exude small amounts of nectar (which acacia flowers do not) which attract a range of insects, including ants but not for the most part insect-hunting ants which would protect the plant. A lovely mystery to be solved...

And we could go on, but before I instead wrap up for today, let's return briefly to phyllodes. I've been asked, quite reasonably, how I know they aren't actually leaves? Well, there are doubtless some physiological reasons, but the best answer is "because we can see it happening".

Acacia rubida Redstem Wattle, Canberra.

Many acacias begin life with true divided leaves - perhaps because maximising photosynthesis is the top priority in the early establishment phase - then switch to phyllodes, water conservation being the long-haul imperative. In Redstem Wattle it is particularly evident. At the bottom of this sapling are the juvenile leaves, at the top are pure phyllodes. But halfway up, look carefully at the phyllode on the right of the stem. The compound leaf is still growing from the end of petiole, which is flattening and becoming a phyllode beginning from the base. On the bottom left petiole the process is just beginning.

The wonderful wattles - like everything else, there's much more to them than immediately meets the eye.

BACK ON WEDNESDAY

The Nanga Sumpa Lodge is a highlight of a visit to Sarawak in northern Borneo. Run by the local Iban community it is relatively basic, but clean and comfortable - I've seen much worse elsewhere - in a remote area accessible only by boat on the edge of the Batang Ai National Park.

Approximate location of Nanga Sumpa in southern Sarawak.

In a future posting I'll talk more about the lodge itself, on the banks of the Delok River, and the forest, but for now I'm going to revisit a delightful night walk we did from the lodge, in the grounds and along the adjacent creek which flows into the Delok, and back through the edge of the nearby village. We had no especial expectations, but despite seeing no large animals at all, enjoyed a very rich nature walk. Sadly I cannot identify most of the animals we saw with any precision, though as ever I'd be grateful for any suggestions you can offer.

The wildlife experiences started before we even left the lovely open-sided dining area, with exquisite little Short-nosed Fruit Bats Cynopterus brachyotis roosting on the ceiling; why they were roosting at night instead of being out earning an honest nocturnal living I couldn't say.

Short-nosed Fruit Bat taking a break from its night-job, which involves eating fruit pulp and nectar,
in the process pollinating and dispersing the seeds of many rainforest trees. It is found throughout southern Asia.
To someone like me used to seeing big fruit bats, this one is tiny -
less than 10cm long and weighing only 30 grams or so.

A couple of their neighbours in the dining room were, by contrast, hard at work hunting insects across the walls and ceiling.

House Gecko Hemidactylus sp.; in case you were wondering, it's on a whiteboard!

Another gecko, which I can't offer a name for, making the most of technology by lurking
inside the open light fitting. Good for it, but a bit tricky for getting the photo.

Outside in the lodge grounds, other hunters were afoot.

This was a very impressive big Wolf Spider Family Lycosidae; if I were smaller, I'd have been very nervous indeed.

Though more spiders awaited us when we took to the creek, not all the lodge inhabitants were carnivores.

This is a big Tractor Millipede, like all of its kind a complete vegetarian, recycling the forest floor litter.
I think the genus is Barydesmus; like every member of its entire Order, Polydesmida, it has entirely dispensed with eyes.

The suggestion that we take to the creek to continue our walk met with some apprehension, but was inspired, with many more animals seen on the banks and in the water itself, including a couple of impressive spiders.

A water spider, spreading its legs so that at least part of the spider's weight is borne by the water surface.
I would surmise that it was hunting tiny fish.

On the bank another impressive hunter, with a reputation.

Tarantula at the mouth of its burrow, awaiting a passing dinner.
I think this is one of the 'earth tigers' of sub-family Ornithoctoninae.

Frogs, perhaps unsurprisingly, featured strongly along the banks, the most dramatic being a huge Giant River Toad Bufo (or Phrynoidis) juxtasper.

The Giant River Toad is found only in Borneo and Sumatra.
This one clearly forgot the mosquito repellant!

White-lipped (or Copper-cheeked) Frog Hylarana raniceps.Two of these inhabited a retired canoe at the water's edge.

Cinnamon Frog Nyctixalus pictus, a climbing shrub frog of the family Rhacophoridae.

Striped (or Spotted) Stream Frog Hylarana signata, another beautiful frog in the same genus
as the White-lipped Frog we saw earlier.

Then we entered the forest at the edge of the village across the stream, where several more tiny delights awaited us on the foliage.

A minute snail with a very strange shell arrangement that I couldn't - and still can't - quite make out.

A very bright green little katydid.

An extremely hairy little caterpillar, which would doubtless be very uncomfortable indeed to encounter.

A nest of tiny ants in a rolled leaf; probably also worth admiring from a respectful distance.

And finally, on our return to the lodge, this very lovely yellow moth awaited us.

Of course I'd have liked to see a mammal or an owl as well, but it was still a night to remember; we must all learn to appreciate the little things.

BY THE TIME YOU READ THIS I'LL BE ON THE WAY TO SOUTH AMERICA, BUT I'VE PREPARED A COUPLE OF POSTINGS FOR YOU IN ADVANCE.
COME BACK ON MONDAY 31 AUGUST

Time for another in my sporadic series of Colours in Nature; for the most recent, see here and you can work back from there. Alternatively, go to Labels to the right of this posting, and look for Colours in Nature.

A serious problem I found when putting this mini-series on orange together was to define the colour! Technically it's between yellow and red, but it turned out not to be that straightforward. We all tend to interpret colours somewhat differently - at home there is an ongoing dispute about the distinction between blue and purple - and I'm finding it very hard to draw a line between orange and chestnut/rusty. I think there's probably just a continuum, so I've tended to err on the side of caution and include here only animals (we'll get to plants later) which look to me to be obviously orange. That of course is no guarantee I'll not get into trouble anyway! Ultimately these colour postings are intended simply to be a celebration of organisms and their colours, so don't get too exasperated if a pic doesn't look orange to you - I promise that it does to me! And in time I will definitely do one on rusty-looking animals, when more mammals will get a go (though a few, interestingly primates especially, have made it into this orange series).

Things are compounded by how we've named orange-rusty-red animals too - think of the Red Fox or Red Kangaroo for instance, which some call orange, though I would probably allocate them to the rusty/chestnut department, but few of us would normally call that colour 'red'.

With those provisos, let's start. Orange, like red and yellow as we might imagine, is mostly formed in animals from carotenoids obtained from plants. See here for more on this, but it can be an energetically expensive process, though presumably worth it in order to stand out from the crowd.

Some birds carry 'orange' in their name, making it easy to home in on them.

Pair of Orange Chats Epthianura aurifrons on the bitumen north of Bourke, New South Wales.
Only the male has to go to the expense of colouring-up.
The Australian chats are now known to primarily insectivorous honeyeaters.

Orange-breasted Fruiteater Pipreola jucunda, Mindo Valley, Ecuador.
Not a great photo, but a great bird; fruiteaters are cotingas.

South Africa's Orange-bellied Sunbird is another badge-wearing Orange bird, but my photo of it really is too terrible to publish here or anywhere else!

Red-collared Lorikeet Trichoglossus rubritorquis, Darwin.
'Red-collared'? Seriously?! After decades of dithering this tropical species is now generally accepted
as a separate species from the widespread Rainbow Lorikeet. T. moluccanus.

Other birds which I see pretty unambiguously as orange are labelled rufous too, to further underscore my point.

Rufous-bellied Euphonia Euphonia rufiventris, canopy tower, Sacha Lodge, Ecuadorian Amazonia.
Probably a tanager, but tanager taxonomy's an even more hazardous field than defining orange!

Rufous-backed (Oriental Dwarf) Kingfisher Ceyx erithaca, Gomantong Caves, Sabah.

White-browed Robin-chat Cossypha hueglini, Entebbe, Uganda, one of the Old World Flycatchers, Muscicapidae.
And I will readily acknowledge that this is getting to the yellow-fawn edge of orange.

Some birds feature a nice orange highlight, often on a yellow background.

Gilded Barbets Capito auratus, canopy tower, Sacha Lodge, Ecuadorian Amazonia.
The New World barbets are separated out now at family level from the Old World ones.

Yellow Warbler Dendroica aestiva, Santa Cruz, Galápagos.
This lovely little bird is everywhere in the Galápagos, and utterly unconcerned about humans
(or about the confusion they're in over its taxonomy).

Other bird body parts than feathers can be orange of course, notably bills and legs.

Zebra Finches Taeniopygia guttata, central Australia.
I never need an excuse to feature Zebbies, an amazing dryland bird which will surely star in its own posting one day.

Ashy-headed Geese Chloephaga poliocephala, Torres del Paine NP, southern Chile.
Actually I reckon they score twice, but even if you reckon the breast is more chestnut than red,
you can't argue about the legs.
The South American 'geese' are actually much more closely related to shelducks.

Orange-footed Scrubfowl Megapodius reinwardt, Darwin; a megapode (mound-builder),
incubating its eggs by the heat of decomposing vegetation in a huge mound of litter which it builds and maintains.
The mystery here is why 'orange-footed', when the entire leg is self-evidently orange?

Ah well, mysteries are good for us.

I'll continue this next time, by the magic of Blogger, while I'm still in South America; we'll look then at other orange vertebrates.

BACK ON SATURDAY 12 SEPTEMBER

In the last posting we talked about orange in animals, focussing on birds. I raised there the problems of precisely defining orange, and I think that becomes even trickier in mammals. For instance by what colours would you define this antelope and tiger?

Impala Aepyceros melampus, Lake Mburo NP, Uganda

Sumatran Tiger Panthera tigris sumatrae, Adelaide Zoo
(and how I wish I could tell you I'd photographed it in Sumatra!)

I think that both could arguably be described as orange (indeed Wikipedia uses a tiger to illustrate its article on orange) though I'd probably think of them as rusty red/chestnut and will deal with this shade thus in a future posting.

An important difference between orange pigment in birds and in most other animals is in the nature of the pigments themselves. For instance while mammals certainly absorb carotenoids from their food and metabolise them, few if any mammals use them for colouration. Instead yellows and oranges and rusty tones in mammals (including in red-haired humans) are due to a class of melanins (normally thought of as brown or black) called pheomelanins. These can be synthesised in the body, unlike carotenoids.

When I started looking into it, I discovered that most of the mammals I'd call orange - as opposed to chestnut etc - are primates. The most obvious of these are Orangutans. (And of course the name comes from Malay, and has nothing to do with 'orange'.)

Bornean Orangutan Pongo pygmaeus, with baby, Sepilok, Sabah.

Venezuelan Red Howler Monkeys Alouatta seniculus, Manu NP, Peruvian Amazonia.
Despite the name, this is the common red howler of the western Amazon; three species are now recognised.

Red Leaf Monkey Presbytis rubicunda, Gomantong Caves, Sabah.
This beautiful monkey is restricted to Borneo and nearby islands.

Golden-mantled Tamarin Saguinus tripartitus, Napo Lodge, Yasuní NP, Ecuadorian Amazon.
And maybe that is really gold rather than orange, but I'm not entirely convinced...
This lovely little monkey also has a limited range, in Ecuador and north-eastern Peru,
and Napo Lodge is probably the best place to see it.

Primates don't have the orange mammal certification entirely to themselves though.

Northern Amazon Red Squirrel Sciurus igniventris, Yasuní NP, Ecuador.

In other vertebrates the story is different again. The class of chemicals known as pterins was first described from (orange) butterfly wings, but they have since been discovered in a range of other groups, including reptiles and amphibians (and other invertebrate groups, but we'll visit them next time). Like melanins, but unlike carotenoids, they can be synthesised by animals.

Poison Dart Frog Ameerega bilinguis, Yasuní NP, Ecuador.
(Do not ever try this; the hand belongs to an indigenous man who's been doing it all his life and
has developed an immunity to the frog's poisons.)


Cinnamon Frog Nyctixalus pictus, Batang Ai NP, Sarawak. This is a climbing shrub frog of the family Rhacophoridae; and yes you've seen this picture in a recent post, but it was integral to both that one and this...

Basking Land Iguana Conolophus subcristatus, North Seymour, Galápagos.
Like the frogs, this somnolent fellow almost certainly employs pterins to brighten himself up.

And there we'll leave if for today, returning soon (when I'll be preparing it 'live') to look at orange invertebrates.

BACK ON THURSDAY 24 SEPTEMBER

Back from another wonderful trip to South America - you'll be seeing more on that very soon - so this offering is 'live' again. Last time, in looking at some orange reptiles and frogs, I mentioned the class of chemicals known as pterins, which were first discovered as pigments in the wings of Pierid butterflies; the best-known of these are the ubiquitious Cabbage Whites, but there are many yellow, and of course orange ones too. Since then pterins have been found in the wings of many other butterflies, as well as wasps and crustaceans, but it is highly likely that they are the basis of other orange invertebrates too. But we might as well start with some orange butterflies from various places, including right here in Canberra.

Australian Painted Lady (though this one is a male Lady!) Vanessa kershawi,
on Isotoma sp., Australian National Botanic Gardens, Canberra.

And I can't really omit a butterfly with Orange in its name, though I reckon it's stretching the definition a tad - not for the first time, as observed in my previous Orange postings.

Orange Bush-brown Mycalesis terminus, Ingham, Queensland.
Both these species are in the huge and colourful family Nymphalidae; despite the history of pterins
I can't actually find a photo of mine depicting an orange Pieridae.

I can offer orange butterflies from Africa and South America too, both of which (if my identification is correct, by no means something to be assumed) are also Nymphalids.

Cymothoe sp., Bwindi Impenetrable National Park, Uganda.
This is a genus of some 70 species restricted to the great forests of West and Central Africa.

Heliconius sp., Manu National Park, Peru.
This widespread and diverse neotropical genus advertises its unpalatability - it takes up nasty cyanides
from its food plants - with bright colours. A lot of work has been done on Mullerian Mimicry in this genus,
where many species resemble each other to reinforce the message to predators. Additionally other, perfectly palatable, butterflies also mimic Heliconius for their own protection (known as Batesian Mimicry).

Two Red Flashers Panacea prola, (with a blue friend, hitherto unidentified by me), Manu National Park.
Despite the common name, these look pretty orange to me!

Orange wasps, you may recall, have also been identified as deriving their colour from pterins. Here are a couple of examples.

Spider Wasp, Family Pompilidae, Machu Picchu, Peru.
Like the butterflies, the wings are the orange aspect here; this is not always the case however.

I assume, but do not know, that the orange legs and bodies of many other wasps are also down to pterins.

'Fire Wasp' (local name, for its ferocious sting) Urabamba, Peruvian Andes.

Potter Wasp, Family Vespidae, Kata Tjuta NP, central Australia.
She needs a lot of water to construct the characteristic mud nests.

Another spider-hunter, this time near Winton, western Queensland.

As for other orange insects, I'm not aware of work that has been done to identify the relevant pigments, but it seems likely that pterins are also involved.

Patagonian Bumblebee Bombus dahlbomii Torres Del Paine National Park, Chilean Patagonia.
This magnificent insect - the world's largest bumblebee - is at risk of extinction following the deliberate
introduction of European bumblebees, carrying parasitic protozoans which are fatal to their Patagonian
relatives, though they themselves are immune.

Chrysomelid beetle munching its way through an acacia phyllode,
Whyalla Conservation Park, South Australia.

Ladybird Coccinella transversalis, Namadgi NP near Canberra.

Harlequin Bug, Family Scutelleridae, Undara National Park, Queensland.

And lastly, moving away from the bush to the sea, pterins have been identified in orange crustaceans, presumably including this lovely crab.

Male Orange-clawed Fiddler Crab Uca coarctata, Mission Beach, Queensland.
The ludicrously enlarged claw is useless for foraging - the other, small claw does all the food gathering - and is solely
used for signalling superiority, and fighting when bluff fails.

So, that will about do us for our excursion into the orange world. Except that I should come back one day to celebrate some orange flowers - but perhaps not just yet.

BACK ON WEDNESDAY

Pisagua is now a fishing village of only a couple of hundred people on the Atacama Desert coast of northern Chile. Only a century ago however it was one Chile's great ports, hosting internationally famed opera singers; more recently it has been, on three separate occasions, a terrible concentration camp for opponents and victims of extreme right-wing military-style governments.

The approximate position of Pisgaua is indicated by the end of the red arrow, on the sea 40km west of the
Pan American Highway, between the major cities of Iquique and Arica (which is almost on the Peruvian border).

Pisagua huddled against the desert coast, from Punto Pichalo, north of the town.
The waterless tracts hemming it in made it an ideal prison site.

The road to Pisagua from the east, with the camanchaca - the sea mist produced by the
cold onshore Humboldt Current - dominating the skyline.

Pisagua was founded back in the early 17th century as a port associated with major silver mines in Bolivia, but boomed in the 19th century with the rise of the guano-mining industry, when centuries of droppings from vast seabird colonies on the coasts of Chile and Peru were mined and exported as fertiliser.

Guano (from cormorants, boobies, pelicans and terns) on an island off Pisagua.

At this stage Pisagua was in Peru; south of here Bolivia stretched to the sea, with Chile further south again (north to approximately Antofagasto on the map above). After the War of the Pacific, one of the great conflicts of the latter 19th century, in which Chile defeated both of its northern neighbours, Bolivia lost its sea access in 1884 and Chile moved its northern border some 500km further north, well into Peru. Pisagua became, and remains, Chilean.

At around this time Pisagua had become much more significant as the port for the new nitrate-mining industry, exporting vast quantities of nitrate from mines in the desert to the fertiliser and explosives industries of North America and Europe. Indeed, by the beginning of the 20th century it was, with Iquique and Valparaiso, one of the three great ports of Chile. With banks, schools, telegraph offices and railways, and the magnificent Teatro Municipal on the waterfront, its population of nearly 10,000 lived well. Steamships brought fresh food and flowers twice a week. Its decline began with the end of the nitrate boom in the 1920s, and its glory turned very grim as a series of brutal presidents used it as a remote prison camp. In the late 1920s Carlos Ibáñez del Campo dumped gay men there; around 1950 Gabriel Gonzalez Videla did the same with communists; and much more recently the infamous General Pinochet sent very many leftist opponents there. Many of those sent there died or simply vanished.

Today most of the town's buildings, including the theatre, are empty and the attraction is mostly in the abundant wildlife. One 'must-do' activity is the two kilometre walk along a narrow road above the sea, to Punta Pichalo to the north of the town.

Pisagua from a lookout by the road, which can be seen zig-zagging down the steep hillside above the town.
Punta Pichalo is at the right of the picture; the track to it leaves from the hairpin bend
just past the town.

The track to the point; the total lack of vegetation is typical of much of the Atacama.
The effective rainfall for Pisagua is - zero...

The cold Humboldt Current, bringing nutrients up from the ocean depths, is one of the richest parts of the planet, and the world's most productive marine ecosytem. It produces some 20% of the global fish catch (by humans) and the bird and other animal life abounds.

Peruvian Pelicans Pelecanus thagus, above and below.
Formerly considered a sub-species of Brown Pelican, it is now recognised as a full species,
extending south from northern Peru.

South American Sea Lions Otaria flavescens on an islet off Punta Pichalo.
The only member of their genus, they are not closely related to other sea lions.

South American Sea Lions and Inca Terns Larosterna inca.Inca Terns (below) also comprise a single-species genus, as well as
being arguably the most beautiful term in the world.

With all the activity it was inevitable that there would be dolphins around and
a small pod of Bottlenose Dolphins Tursiops truncatus swam past the point.

Turkey Vultures Cathartes aura constantly patrol the shoreline and sea lion colonies.

However the highlight was an extraordinary conversion of pelicans and cormorants (Guanay and Red-leggd) on what must have been a huge school of small fish that moved past the point and out to sea, attracting thousands of birds, and presumably large predatory fish and dolphins too.

The number of small fish to attract this number of birds - and there was a constant stream of cormorants
and pelicans leaving the land to join the feast - must have been in the millions.

Humans have been sharing in this wealth for a long time too, judging by the huge midden on the point.

Shell midden with charcoal, evidence of many cooked meals.

Back in town there is a nice waterfront park with shelters, ideal for lunch - and further wildlife watching.

Neotropical Cormorants Phalacrocorax brasilianus are found throughout South America
and north to the southern US.

Peruvian Pelicans loaf about the port scrounging for scraps.

Band-tailed (or Belcher's) Gull Larus belcheri is readily distinguished from the
more widespread Kelp Gull L. dominicanus by the eponymous black tail band.

Blackish Oystercatcher Haematopus ater; its elegant white legs are highly distinctive.
A pair patrols the rocks in front of the picnic shelters.

And while not many passerines make the seafront their home, one species here does and is rarely found away from the waves.

Chilean Seaside Cinclodes Cinclodes nigrofumosus;the cinclodes form a group of ovenbirds, one of the two ancient groups of South American passerines.
Most of the 15 or so species are dwellers of the high Andes, but not this one.

Lizards are also not generally found in the spray zone, but the Atacama Lava Lizard Microlophus atacamensis
is at home there; it is common along the Atacama coast.
This one appears to have regrown an amputated tail.

Pisagua is not on the main tourist trails of Chile, but that's no reason not to go there - one might indeed argue the opposite. Its recent past was grim, but we should not forget that such barbarism exists.

And for a naturalist, Pisagua has abundant rewards.

BACK ON TUESDAY

I thought it was time to write something more Australian than I've done recently, and it being gloriously spring here at last (and unsurprisingly, with each year spring becomes more precious) flowers seemed an appropriate topic. For no especial reason I thought of the lovely and diverse Grevilleas as a topic, but when I started planning the post I realised that we needed a bit more context, so felt obliged to start with the wider family, the wonderful Proteaceae. (There's probably a name for a brain that obliges me to be so structured, but it doesn't matter because that's the only one I've got, or am likely to have.)

The family is essentially Gondwanan and old one, centred on Australia but represented strongly in southern Africa and to a lesser extent in South America, India, New Caledonia and New Zealand. It has spread north into Africa, into Indonesia and south-east Asia, and into central America and Mexico. There are some 1700 species in about 80 genera; of these 1100 species and 46 genera are Australian.

Woolly Grevillea G. lanigera Namadgi NP near Canberra.
This is the largest genus with some 360 species, virtually all Australian.
The typical Proteaceae flower - though no single statement is likely to be universally true in such a
diverse family - has four tepals (the term used for petals and sepals which can't be reliably
defined as one or the other) with a style which first bears pollen and later receives it.

Notro or Firebush Embothrium concinnum, Torres del Paine NP, southern Chile.
A small but spectacular South American genus whose close relationship with the
Australian waratahs (Telopea) is evident.

Protea nitida near Cape Town - a scan of a somewhat faded old slide.
There are nearly as many Protea species as there are of Grevilleas.
This is the genus from which the family takes its name - in other words it was the first
genus in the family to be named. The great Linnaeus named it for the Greek god of that name,
noted for having many shapes. That description is appropriate for the entire family too,
but despite some assertions that was not why the family was named!

The Gondwanan distribution has generally been taken at face value - ie evidence of an ancient group which was present when the southern continents went their own way. Recent molecular dating work (eg DNA sequence research), especially involving Dr Peter Weston of the New South Wales Herbarium, suggests that, counter-intuitively, the various groups dispersed outward from Australia at different times to colonise the rest of their current range by oceanic drift. (A similar result was recently suggested too by research into the ratites - the giant flightless southern birds - suggesting that they must all have flown to their current sites across the southern hemisphere and then all independently lost the power of flight.) All things are of course possible, and I claim no expertise, but both these scenarios seem remarkable to say the least, when compared with the more obvious traditional explanations. I wonder if there is more to be said on this.

Proteaceous plants can be trees, big shrubs, sprawling ground covers and even, in some cases, herbs. In addition to the characteristics noted above under the Grevillea photo, in many species the anthers are attached to the inside of the floral tube. The tip of the style, the stigma, is touching the pollen; as the style grows it puts pressure on the sides of the flower tube until it splits; at this stage the stigma springs out, still bearing the pollen which is taken by either insects or birds depending on the species. Shortly afterwards the stigma grows a brush and becomes a conventional pollen receptor. Flowers may be single, paired or in large spikes.

Grevillea pectinata near Salmon Gums, southern Western Australia.
The upper styles have emerged, the lower ones are still trapped in the flower tube.

Fruits are dry capsules opening to release just one large winged seed; the capsules may be embedded in a cone for species with large inflorescences; if single they may be hard, woody and fireproof or fragile and papery. Persoonias are exceptional in having fleshy fruit.

Banksia speciosa cone near Esperance, southern Western Australia.
Only a few of the numerous flowers are usually fertilised.

Recently burnt fruit of Mountain Devil Lambertia formosa, near Nowra, New South Wales.
The devil's head will soon split to drop the seed into the ash bed.


Hakea microcarpa fruit, Tidbinbilla Nature Reserve near Canberra. Most Hakeas have thick woody cones, but this one has smaller more fragile ones; Grevillea and Lomatia have even more papery fruits.

Persoonia sylvatica fruit, Tinderry Nature Reserve south-east of Canberra.

Another family characteristic (though again not univeral) is the presence of curious root structures called proteoid roots, which grow annually as short very dense masses of root hairs from the sides of normal roots. Their function is similar to that of mycorrhiza (fungal 'hairs' associated with a plant's roots) in other plants, providing a greatly increased root surface area to contact scarce soil nutrients and water. Proteaceae don't have mychorrhiza; the proteoid roots seem to have an association with soil bacteria.

Species are found from very arid central deserts to wet near-coastal forests.

Hakea lorea, Kata Tjuta NP, central Australia

Monga Waratah Telopea mongaensis, Monga NP, south-eastern New South Wales.

Most plant families have either vertebrate or invertebrate pollinators, but it is probably unsurprising that such a large family should have many strategies; mammals, birds and insects all have roles in different branches of Proteaceae.

Western Little Wattlebird Anthochaera chrysoptera on Banksia speciosa, Esperance, Western Australia

Native bee on Persoonia sp.
(Probably Xylocopa sp. - thanks Susan.)

Five subfamilies are recognised, all being present in Australia.

Symphionematoideae comprises just three species in two genera; Symphionema in New South Wales and Agastyachys in Tasmania

Bellendenoideae has just one species, from the highlands of Tasmania.

Mountain Rocket Bellendena montana, Ben Lomond NP, Tasmania.
The flowers form white spikes in summer; these are the seed capsules.

Persoonoideae comprises five genera; four are very small and recent work suggests that three of them should properly be included in the best-known genus of the group, Persoonia.

Persoonia linifolia; the tepals have rolled back to expose the four anthers and central style.

Proteoideae is a bigger grouping, containing 25 genera including nearly all the African ones.

Stirlingia latifolia, Badgingarra NR, north of Perth.
Commonly known as Blue Boy because cement made from the sand it grows in turns blue!
Stirlingia has just seven species, all from Western Australia.

Conospermum distichum, Cape le Grande NP, south-west Western Australia.
Members of the genus are known as smoke-bushes, as they grow en masse
on heathy sandplains, causing the landscape to appear hazy.
Fifty species are found across southern Australia.

Isopogon divergens Kalbarri NP, Western Australia.
(My thanks to Phil Trickett and Catriona Bate for identifying this beauty for me.)
Often known as drumsticks for their globular seed cases, the 35 species are found across Australia,
though most are in the west.

Petrophile pedunculata cones, Nowra, New South Wales.
These are generally called conesticks from their more elongate woody fruits.
There are some 70 species, again mostly in the west.

Adenanthos terminalis Heggarton Conservation Park, Eyre Peninsula, South Australia.
The jugflowers or woolly-bushes are most atypical in the family, not least in having just
one flower in the inflorescence.
This species from the South Australian mallee, and one from Victoria, are the only
two of the thirty species not restricted to Western Australia.

Grevilleoideae contains the 'big three' Australian genera, plus most of the Australian rainforest species, the Malesian species, and the American ones.

Grevillea juncifolia, central Australia.
A spectacular desert-dwelling member of the biggest genus (370 species, nearly all being Australian).
And it will get its own posting in the not too distant future...

Massed Banksia menziesii (red) and M. hookeri, Lake Logue NR, north of Perth.
Banksia inflorescences can have thousands of individual flowers and are immensely
attractive to mammals, birds and insects.
They too warrant their own posting, not least because there are 170 species, but...

Dryandra formosa near Albany, Western Australia.
In 2007 this large genus was absorbed into Bankia based on evidence that appeared to me comprehensive at the time but has by no means been accepted by authorities much more qualified than I, including the Dryandra Study Group of the Australian Native Plants Society, and eminent West Australian botanist Alex George.
Since publishing this post I have been sent Alex's article challenging the change, and I find his arguments compelling.
For those who do accept this radical change, it more than doubles the number of Banksia species, including this
species which would be known as Banksia formosa.

Hakea multilineata near Norseman, inland southern Western Australia.
There are 150 Hakea, found throughout Australia, though again concentrated in the west.
The similarities with Grevillea may not be coincidental - there are rumblings that suggest there
may soon be over 500 Grevilleas and no Hakeas!

Lomatia polymorpha, Mount Field NP, Tasmania.
This genus of 12 species is found on the Pacific sides of both Australia and South America.

Lomatia hirsuta, Volcano Orsono near Puerto Montt, southern Chile.

Lambertia formosa Nowra, New South Wales.
These flowers produce the Mountain Devil fruit pictured above.
This is the only eastern species, but well known; there are another nine in the west,
where they are widely known as honeysuckles.

Woody Pear Xylomelum angustifolium fruit, Lake Logue NR, north of Perth.
A striking small tree, and an unusual genus in this context in that there are more species
in the east (four) than in the west (two).

Orites lancifolia, high Namadgi National Park, above Canberra.
In addition to the seven Australian species (most of which are Tasmanian) there are two in South America.

Well, if you're still reading after all this - thank you! I hope it's been worth it. As noted, there will be postings on two or three of these genera in the future but for now that's enough! If you can go and see some actually growing now, so much the better.

BACK ON TUESDAY

There is a constant tension in near-coastal Queensland between the sugar cane industry and reaction to its impacts on ever-dwindling natural tropical and sub-tropical habitat, from rainforest to savanna woodland. Mareeba, inland from Cairns, is not on the coastal strip where most sugar is grown, but in the early 1990s the industry was seeking new areas to expand as opportunities on the coastal strip became limited. An area north of Mareeba, on the escarpment plateau 400 metres above sea level, was earmarked as an option. It was an area of tropical savanna woodland, of a type quite widespread but not well protected in reserves. Most importantly however in the selection of the area for further cane growing, was the existence of the Mareeba-Dimbulah Irrigation Scheme, based on the Tinaroo Dam on the Atherton Tableland to the south. It supports a major fruit-growing industry and in the past a large tobacco crop, though this has become much less significant in recent years.

Mareeba is approximately at the end of the red arrow;
as can be seen it is well north of the Tropic of Capricorn.

Savanna woodland, Mareeba Wetlands Reserve.
Eucalypts and shrubs grow over a grassy understorey. Massive termite mounds reflect the
significance of a huge biomass of grass-harvesting termites to the local ecology.

The proposal was to open a new area to sugar cane utilising the run-off from water which had passed through the irrigation channels. This wasn't necessarily a problem in itself, but fortunately appropriate studies were required, and these studies determined that there were serious environmental constraints on that site relating to soil types and the potential for downstream salinisation issues.

However a group of far-sighted locals saw the potential for creative alternative uses for both the water and the land, based on the knowledge gained through the existing research. They formed the Mareeba Wetland Foundation (which has since evolved into the Wildlife Conservancy of Tropical Queensland) to press for the creation of the Mareeba Tropical Savanna and Wetland Reserve. (It is still known to all and sundry as simply the Mareeba Wetlands so I'll continue to do so to.) They proposed a 2000 hectare savanna reserve featuring a series of gravity-fed ponds. One might argue that a wetland has no place in a savanna, but many natural wetlands have been drained, so I'd just see it as compensating for some of these. The loss of some woodland - well-represented locally - is balanced by the recreation of wetland and associated habitats which have been lost locally.

Their proposal was sufficiently well-researched and convincing to persuade the federally-funded Regional Infrastructure Development Program to support it, and local, state and commonwealth governments, as well as local business, especially the tourist industry, offered assistance. The reserve opened to the public in 1999. By then the wildlife had already offered its approval, and it had become one of the most significant Brolga and Sarus Crane roosts in north Queensland. A walk around the biggest lagoon is likely to be accompanied by the wonderful wild bugling of cranes drifting down from the sky.

Mareeba Wetlands, with the visitor information centre visible across Clancys Lagoon.
The walk around this lake, with the promise of coffee and treats at the little cafe at the end of it,
is a delightful introduction to the reserve.

The local Muluridgi people were granted title over the reserve in 2011, and the reserve is now operated as a partnership. All staff are volunteers. The magnificent visitors' centre was built with assistance from local industry.

A closer view of the Clancys Lagoon Visitors' Information Centre (VIC).

The VIC deck - an excellent location to enjoy the view and the wildlife (with or without coffee).

Another view from the deck.

There are several research and monitoring projects ongoing, including on the cranes and on the rare and little-understood Buff-breasted Buttonquail, but one very obvious one to the visitor is the captive breeding and release program for the glorious but seriously threatened Gouldian Finch.

The Gouldian Finch breeding aviary (above and below) backs on to the VIC, and faces the
wetlands and woodlands to which they are steadily being released.

The Gouldian Finch Erythrura gouldiae is truly an exquisite bird, named by the great 19th century
ornithologist John Gould for his wife and work partner, the artist Elizabeth Gould.
Once found throughout northern Australia, numbers have plummeted due to a complex of factors,
among which changed fire regimes seem likely to be the most significant.

Waterbirds can be seen from the deck, though Clancys Lagoon is big and they will not necessarily be close.

Comb-crested Jacana Irediparra gallinacea from the VIC deck.
Its enormous toes for distributing its weight on the leaves can be seen in this photo.

The creek by the VIC entrance can be excellent for frogs, including one of my favourites.

The White-lipped Tree Frog Litoria infrafrenata is reputedly the world's largest tree frog - it can be close to 14cm long.
It is found in north Queensland and beyond into New Guinea and associated islands.

Out in the woodland there are many resources for wildlife, including flowers and grasses.

Broad-leaved Paperbark Melaleuca viridiflora is found across northern Australia.
The species name is from these (sort of) greenish flowers, but unfortunately they are just as likely to be red!

Thysanotus juncifolius, one of the glorious fringe-lilies.

Native Rice Oryza australis; the seeds are tiny but prolific and feed many animals.

Such grasses support several finch species, among others.

Black-throated Finches Poephila cincta (a declining species, above) and
Chestnut-breasted Manikins Lonchura castaneothorax harvest the reserve's grass seeds.


Pheasant Coucal Centropus phasianinus, a wonderfully scruffy and shambling big bird. Throughout the world 60% of cuckoo species actually nest and raise their own chicks in the conventional way, but in Australia this is the only one to do so.

Squatter Pigeon Geophaps scripta, a striking tropical ground-dwelling pigeon.


Male Leaden Flycatcher Myiagra rubecula, a monarch flycatcher. This species migrates between the tropics and south-eastern Australia, where it breeds. I might even have seen this bird in Canberra!

But as is the way in Australian tropical savannas, reptiles are almost as obvious as, and probably more abundant than, the birds.

Tommy Roundhead Diporiphora australis on a Mareeba termite mound.
Australia has the most diverse arid land lizard fauna in the world, and the basis
of this proliferation is the huge mass of termites.

Snake-eyed Skink Cryptoblepharus virgatus; another who doubtless dines on the termite smorgasbord.

And finally, one of the most exciting things I've seen, in that I've looked for it in vain for many years (most recently in Kakadu NP in summer, supposedly the best place and time to look). The spectacular big Frill-necked Lizard Chlamydosaurus kingii has normally gone into winter torpor in a tree by May, when I was last there. Our luck was in however as this beautiful beast was awake and just outside the VIC.


The only member of their genus, they can grow to nearly 90cm long, and this was a big one. The loose frill can be erected into a fearsome ruff if the owner feels the need to protect itself, but this lovely obviously wasn't too stressed by our presence.

I can't guarantee you'll see a Frilly if you go to Mareeba Wetlands - though you certainly won't see this one if you don't go! - but I can guarantee you'll see a rich and beautiful part of Australia, and you'll see what can be done if enough people use their imagination, initiative and determination to make things better.

Next time you're up that way, don't miss it!

BACK ON WEDNESDAY

I think some people are surprised to realise that there are camels in America. Even more, I suspect, are taken aback to learn that camels actually arose in North America, some 45 million years ago. Over their long history in that continent - which ended only very recently - some 90 camelid species in 35 genera arose, from tiny delicate gazelle-like animals to huge six metre high giraffe-like camels. Some six to seven million years ago one of the larger of these species crossed the then dry Bering Strait into Asia; its descendants eventually reached Spain. Two descendant species still live, both in the genus Camelus, inhabiting some of the harshest lands on earth. The Bactrian Camel (C. bactrianus) adapted to the summer-baking and winter-freezing stony deserts of the central Asian steppes, while the Dromedary (C. dromedarius) settled in the hot sandy deserts of south-western Asia and north Africa. Both were domesticated between four and six thousand years ago (Bactrians first), to the extent that there are now no wild Dromedaries in their home range, and very few wild Bactrians, though there are nearly 20 million domestic Dromedaries and about a million domestic Bactrians.

Feral Dromedary, Musgrave Ranges, central Australia.
The ancestors of inland Australia's feral camel population - the only wild Dromedaries in the world -
were brought here from British India as pack animals in the nineteenth century.
There are at least 600,000 of them, representing a serious environmental problem, especially to scarce water sources.

Probably less than a thousand wild Bactrian Camels survive, deep in the Gobi Desert.
Recent genetic work suggests that domestic Bactrians have changed enough that the wild animals
merit different species status, as C. ferus.
Photo courtesy of National Geographic.

More recently - some three million years ago - another opportunity arose for the North American camels to expand their range. This was the collision of South America with the North, providing major two-way access between the continents via the Panamanian Land Bridge.

Two species derived from the invasion. Widespread in open habitats of the continent was the Guanaco Lama guanicoe; more specialised is the much smaller and more delicate-looking Vicuña Vicugna vicugna which is limited to the high northern Andes, over 3500 metres above sea level.

Guanacos, Torres del Paine NP, Chilean Patagonia.

Vicuña near Chivay, southern Peruvian Andes.

It has been estimated that 50 million Guanacos once roamed the plains and mountains, but now perhaps 1% of that number survive, mostly in the far south; only in the southern tip of Argentina do they maintain a presence in the plains. Vicuña numbers are slightly lower than that, but they were never as numerous and numbers actually appear to be increasing. However many, even most, wild Vicuña populations are heavily managed for regular shearing, with some even kept permanently in large corrals, which prevent natural gene flow. A second domestication of most of the remaining wild Vicuñas may be underway.

The Guanaco hot-spot is Torres del Paine, where large herds are still ubiquitous. Further north things are dire for them. The northern sub-species L. g. casilensis numbers less than 4000 animals now, in southern Peru and northen Chile.

Northern Guanacos, above and below, Atacama Desert near San Pedro, northern Chile.

These harsh high deserts support both species.

Vicuñas, Aguada Blanca National Reserve, southern Peru.

Guanacos live either in family groups - a male defending several females and offspring, or as troops of males waiting their chance, sometimes for years, or as solitary mature males, hanging around the periphery of territories, challenging the incumbent males.

(All subsequent Guanaco photos were taken in Torres del Paine NP.)

Guanaco herd, females and young.

The single young - called chulengos - are born in summer after an 11 month gestation, weighing up to 15kg, a sixth of adult weight. They are suckled for 15 months; all these characteristics are adaptations to a harsh climate. Nonetheless mortality is high (up to 15% in the first 10 days in Torres del Paine), the main cause being Puma predation.


Chulengos on the park boundary - the adults easily leap the fence (below).

Fresh Puma-killed chulengo.

Males will fight viciously for hours with intruders, with exhausting chases; just when the struggle seems to be over with one party completely beaten, the tables can turn in an instant and it all starts again.

Despite these dramatic scenes, when we moved on after nearly an hour
neither party seemed to have any ascendancy.

As with their Old World relatives, both species were domesticated early - thousands of years ago. Both of the domesticated animals have evolved so far from their wild ancestors that they are now regarded as separate species. Guanacos gave rise to Llamas (Lama glama) and Vicuñas to Alpacas (Vicugna pacos). The much larger Llamas were developed as pack animals - huge caravans of Llamas traversed the vast Inca empire, carrying goods for hundreds of kilometres. Alpacas on the other hand were bred to be producers of valuable fibre. Large herds of both roam the high Andes, usually in the care of shepherds.

Llamas, Machu Picchu, Peru.

Alpacas (and Andean Geese) near Chivay, southern Peruvian Andes.

Mixed mob of Llamas and Alpacas with young shepherd, near Chivay, southern Peruvian Andes.
The Llamas have nearly bare faces.
The coloured ear tags, denoting ownership, are a part of a very old tradition.

And the ancestors of all these animals, back in North America? They survived until very recently, perhaps only 15,000 years ago, during the last glaciation. Savage climate change alongside hunting pressures and perhaps changed fire regimes from newly arrived humans probably interacted to eliminate them, along with many other large grazing animals, including several South American camel species.

So now, if you want to see wild camels in the land they evolved in, you're going to have to go to South America. And really, that's not a hardship...

BACK ON WEDNESDAY

I had no intention of talking about leaf beetles today - indeed I scarcely knew anything about them and the idea had never occurred to me. Until Sunday.

On Sunday I was walking with some like-minded people along a quiet road in the Tallaganda Ranges a little to the east of Canberra. The Tallagandas contain some beautiful wet eucalypt forest, a reasonable proportion of which has now been preserved from the creeping blight of exotic pine plantations and dedicated as Tallaganda National Park.

Eucalyptus obliqua, E. viminalis and Fishbone Ferns Blechnum spp., Tallaganda NP.

On the road we found a busy crowd of odd-looking little animals, seemingly in mud-like shells, demolishing a eucalypt leaf - I was at a complete loss to explain them, to my embarrassment. There wasn't much left of their leaf, but I was concerned for their safety on the road, quiet though it was, and tried to move them and the leaf to the edge of the road. They were much more active than they first seemed however and all tumbled off to the side and proved impossible to move without risking damage to them.

A very odd little gathering!

Back in Canberra I consulted Kim Pullen, an entomologist with CSIRO (for those outside Australia, this is the Commonwealth Scientific and Industrial Research Organisation, an icon of Australian research, though shamefully starved of funds by recent governments). He put me firmly on the right track, on which I've since done a little more of my own research, though readily available information isn't plentiful.

However I think I've got enough to share a little story which I found fascinating. Our little characters are leaf beetle larvae, Family Chrysomelidae, subfamily Cryptocephalinae. Normally we don't worry too much about sub-families for day to day use, but when species numbers are as high as they are in insect families, and notably among beetles, it is a practical necessity. As a case in point, there are some 700 species of Cryptocephalines in Australia alone.

First, a little background (bearing in mind I claim no expertise in matters invertebrate). The leaf beetles, Chrysomelidae, contain at least 3000 species in Australia, in more than 250 genera. Both adults and larvae specialise in eating plant tissue, including, as you'd expect in Australia, both eucalypt and acacia leaves.

A leaf beetle, probably of the same subfamily as our subjects, effectively
chewing an Eremophila leaf, Whyalla Conservation Park, South Australia.

The best-known are probably the numerous species of the genus Paropsis, or tortoise beetles. A major part of the secret to their success is in being one of the few groups of organisms in the world which have managed to unravel the chemical binding of proteins to the tannins in eucalypt leaves. These greatly limit the availability of essential nitrogen to those munching on them, making them pretty unattractive to most leaf-eaters.

Tortoise beetles - larvae above, adult below - demonstrating their disdain for the chemical
defences in eucalypt leaves. The larvae, moreover, exude deadly hydrogen cyanide from glands in
their rear ends - enough to kill a meat ant outright.

Another Chrysomelid is well-known to orchid growers - the Orchid Beetle Stethopachys formosa (subfamily Criocerinae) specialises in eating orchid flowers, notably the summer flowering hyacinth orchids, Dipodium spp. They really appreciate the nice warm conditions in greenhouses!

Orchid beetle on lunch - Dipodium punctatum, Rosedale, south coast New South Wales.

So, what's the story of our little friends on the Tallaganda road? Kim Pullen tells me that the only way to even allocate them to a genus would be to raise them to adulthood, but my fostering skills are not up that, even if I was willing to rip them from their friends and family. As the the female beetle laid each egg on the ground, she caught it in the 'foot' of her rear legs and coated it in droppings, which are composed of eucalypt leaf material. When the egg hatched, the little beetle larva broke a hole at the front of the case and with the assistance of its front 'legs' moves about the forest floor eating the litter. I am told by Kim that Dr Chris Reid of the Australian Museum in Sydney, an expert on Chrysomelids, considers them an important player in the cycle of litter breakdown in eucalypt forests

An enlarged view of a section of the above photo shows some of the larvae protruding from their mobile homes. These homes provide both physical protection and effective camouflage in the litter.

As they grow they add to the case with their own droppings, and when the time comes they pupate within it, eventually emerging as an adult beetles.

A small story in the bigger scheme of things, but it fascinated me and I hope you found something of interest here too.

BACK ON TUESDAY

The key focal points for most people's visit to Peru are either high in the Andes - Machu Picchu, Lake Titicaca, the cloud forests - or to the east in the Amazon basin, in the lowland rainforests. Quite right too. Nonetheless today I want to tell you about somewhere that is west of the Andes, not much above sea level (though nowhere near the sea) and very dry. And, I found, very special.

The Pomac Forest Historical Sanctuary is an area of just 6000 hectares of arid Algorrobo Prosopis pallida forest and open semi-desert, located 30km north of the major town of Chiclayo in far northern Peru. It was declared in 2001, to protect an important biodiverse and cultural landscape. The Tumbes eco-region of north-western Peru and adjacent Ecuador is an area of tropical dry forest, greatly reduced and fragmented, which supports unique and highly threatened wildlife. Birdlife International describes it as "one of the most important and threatened of all Endemic Bird Areas"; only 5% of the area remains forested, mostly degraded.

The end of the red arrow indicates Chiclayo, a city of nearly a million people, some 800km north of Lima.
On this map, Pomac is pretty much on the outskirts.

A key reason for its reservation was the presence of mighty mud brick pyramids - now softened at the edges to resemble vast piles of earth from a distance - which are tombs of the 'señors' of the pre-Inca Sicán culture, dating from 900-1200 years ago. When a 'señor' died he was buried under a pyramid - with wives and chief attendants, including chief priest and commander of his guard - then the entire pyramid was razed and another larger one built on top, starting with an extra perimeter base level.

Sicán pyramid (one of several), Pomac Forest, above and below.

However I was there mostly for the natural values - though I certainly visited the remarkable Museum of the Royal Tombs of Sipán (a similar site nearby) on the edge of Chiclayo.

Museo de las Tumbes Reales de Sipán, Chiclayo.

There are excellent walking tracks through the dense Algorrobo forest.

Algorrobo scrub, above and below.

The Millenium Tree is an ancient Algorrobo tree;
some estimates put it at over 1000 years old, though others are a little more modest.

On the edge of the forest is even more arid open land, sand and rocky hillsides.

Sandy semi-desert with Prosopis spp.

Cactus on rocky slopes.

Back in the forest there are other plants in addition to the Algorrobo.

Mistletoe on Algorrobo.
Amazilia Hummingbirds were feeding on the flowers, but I wasn't quick enough.

Grabowskia buxifolia Family Solanaceae.
This unlikely-looking tough foliage, along with the fruit, is an important food source
for the endangered Tumbesian endemic Peruvian Plantcutter.

Peruvian Plantcutter Phytotoma raimondii.After a long period of uncertainty the plantcutters are now regarded as cotingas.
The Peruvian Plantcutter is known from just eight locations in northern Peru.

Other endangered endemics present in Pomac include the Rufous Flycatcher Myiarchus semirufus and Tumbes Tyrant Tumbezia salvini. Not all residents are so rare however.

Long-tailed Mockingbirds Mimus longicaudatus are ubiquitous.

Exquisite Vermilion Flycatchers Pyrocephalus rubinus are also common in the forest.

Scarlet-backed Woodpecker Veniliornis callonotus - just about to touch down!

Burrowing Owls Athene cunicularia are among the most widespread birds in the Americas.
Around Pomac they can be seen perched out during the day, or at the mouth of their burrow.

Savannah Hawks Buteogallus meridionalis live in the open country all around Pomac.

Black Vultures Coragyps atratus hang around the pyramids, and perch on them (see large pyramid photo above).

Northern Peru isn't on every visitor's itinerary, though I reckon it should be. And when you go there, definitely don't miss Pomac!

BACK ON TUESDAY

In the last days of 2001 fires roared through exotic pine plantations scant kilometres from the centre of Canberra. Just 13 months later a far greater conflagration swept away 500 homes and most of the vegetation of the Australian Capital Territory (ACT) south and west of Canberra. In the aftermath, in the midst of the recovery process, it was decided to replace the pines with an international arboretum - a sort of tree zoo. It is a large area, covering 250 hectares, and comprises a series of approximately 100 single-species plantations of trees, planted in neat grid lines. It opened in early 2013 and has since consistently attracted large numbers of visitors.

In general I've not been among them. In saying so I'm not being critical of the concept or its implementation, which has been highly professional and well-funded. It's just a personal preference; I actually think we've got enough exotic monocultures and when I get time to go out I'll always opt for one of the many natural areas enhancing Canberra, or the nearby and superb Australian-only National Botanic Gardens.

Having said that, there is one too-obscure corner of the arboretum which regularly draws me to inspect its progress; this is the Southern Tablelands Ecosystems Park (STEP hereafter), an absolutely delightful pocket of diverse native vegetation tucked away in a corner. Effectively it is a lovely, and rapidly evolving, little botanic garden of local plants, including 16 eucalypt species; in this context 'local' means the elevated Southern Tablelands of New South Wales and the ACT.

The STEP garden from up the slope, separated from the visitors' centre, the hub of the arboretum,
by an unwelcoming expanse of weedy open space.
The gardens are not obvious in this shot, scattered among the growing trees.
The remnant woodlands in the background are to be preserved as planned suburban development
proceeds, and are to be added to the arboretum land and managed by STEP.

The idea of a STEP garden arose quite independently of the arboretum - indeed it was being discussed even before the 2003 fires. It was proposed and championed by two local community organisations, the Australian Native Plants Society (Canberra Region) and Friends of Grasslands, following a workshop in 2002 to explore the concept. Importantly, it gained the support of the then ACT Chief Minister Jon Stanhope, also a champion of the arboretum. Potential venues were explored without progress being made, until in 2005 it was proposed that STEP's future should be with the arboretum and subsequent planning and selection and propagation of plant species proceeded on that basis.

It is most significant to realise that the entire process has been carried by volunteers - in that context the progress made has been even more remarkable. Life was made harder for them by the fact that most of the development years were times of extreme drought.

Tall Ammobium Ammobium alatum, on the edge of one of the diverse garden beds.
Well-attended weekly working bees are responsible for such beautiful and well-maintained plantings.

The STEP garden opened in February 2013, with the rest of the arboretum. At the time it was new and sparse-looking, and the weeds were not at all keen on being displaced. In less than three years since then it has been transformed. Let me share some images with you.

Some of the eucalypt plantings; no monocultures here, the designers have utilised the topography of the site
to plant the 16 species according to the relative situations they would occupy naturally.

Scrambled Eggs (not that I've actually heard anyone call it that!) Goodenia pinnatifida.


Trigger Plant Stylidium graminifolium. Triggers have a remarkable pollination system; the style (which is initially a pollen presenter) is bent back against the flower stem - quite visible above. A visiting insect releases the 'trigger' and the style whips over and whacks the insect, either delivering pollen to it or collecting it from it.

Smooth Flax Lily Dianella longifolia, above and below.
Long in the family Phormiaceae, then shifted to Hemerocallidaceae; now some would put
it into Xanthorrhoeaceae. Take your pick.

Wee Jasper Grevillea G. iaspicula, above and below.
This is a rare and threatened shrub from the vicinity of the nearby town Wee Jasper;
the species name is an attempt to Latinise the town name!

False Sarparilla Hardenbergia violacea above and below.
A vigorous scrambling pea and an early coloniser of disturbed land.

Bulbine Lily B. bulbosa. Family Asphodeleaceae.

Rock Fern Cheilanthes austrotenuilfolia.A hardy little fern of local rocky hillsides.

Native Flax Linum marginale.

Kangaroo Apple Solanum linearifolium.
A spreading shrub of rocky sites; ignore the common name, all Solanum fruit should be treated with great respect,
though indigenous Australians have long known how to separate the edible from the toxic.
Remember that while this is the family that brought you tomatoes and potatoes,
it also boasts tobacco and Deadly Nightshade.

Amphitheatre; this is the focus of STEP's education program with visiting school groups.

Introductory sign.

Already the wildlife is accumulating, though the most obvious birds are still utilisers of relatively open space. Nonetheless they are obviously homing in on the plantings and this will only increase as the garden beds mature and the contrast grows between their naturalness, diversity and dense shelter and the comparatively unwelcoming surrounds.

Plague Soldier Beetles Chauliognathus lugubris on eucalypt blossom.

At least one family of Superb Fairy-wrens Malurus cyaneus has set up a territory in
the STEP garden, and is doubtless breeding there.

Red-rumped Parrots Psephotus haematonotus are attracted to the seeding native grasses.

This Silvereye Zosterops lateralis is on a weed (Senecio sp. I think) just outside the STEP garden,
but they regularly visit the garden to feed on both insects and nectar.

As the STEP garden matures further, I will probably revisit it in a future blog - meantime though I will certainly be doing so physically. If you live in Canberra, or next time you visit, I strongly urge you to do likewise. You won't get much help in finding it - for all the clear signage throughout the arboretum, management has not invested in one to indicate that the STEP garden even exists, let alone direct us to it. Nor can I find a map on the arboretum web site. However there are clear directions here. Basically, drive up to the visitors' centre and walk down the hill to the west. (And, as an addendum, please note the Comment below from Rob, regarding a new walking track and brochure from the Visitors' Centre to STEP - a most desirable innovation.)

It is a shame that, having offered a home to such an important, vigorous and self-sufficient initiative, the arboretum has not taken the small extra step of directing public attention to it. However I have little doubt that, in time, the word will spread, and I hope I've just made a small contribution to that.

[It is important to note that while writing this I made a conscious decision not to discuss it with anyone associated with STEP, so as not to compromise either them or me. Nor has anyone involved with the project ever expressed to me the concerns I've raised above - they are solely my own observations.]

BACK ON TUESDAY

Surviving Winter in the Snow Country

On This Day, 21 July: Belgian National Day

Kota Kinabalu, naturally

Pacha Quindi: a very special place

Botanic Gardens of Regional Queensland; Emerald and Goondiwindi

Xanthorrhoeas; the wonderful grass-trees

Across the Barkly Tableland: a great drive

Mount Field, a Tasmanian Treasure

Some Acacia Curiosities; wattle they think of next?

Spotlight on Small Game in Borneo

Colours in Nature - orange; birds

Colours in Nature; orange - other vertebrates

Colours in Nature: orange - invertebrates

Pisagua; town of ghosts and birds

Proteaceae; the form-changers from Gondwana

Mareeba Wetlands: sweeter than sugar

American Camels

Leaf Beetles and Mobile Homes

Pomac; a gem of northern Peru

Southern Tablelands Ecosystems Park; a tucked-away treasure