Tasmania … Kuala Lumpur

I am home again.
I know, because I had to catch a frog in the kitchen last night and release it outside, because I was woken up by the mosque this morning, because there are bulbuls in the garden and house geckos on the ceiling.

We flew out from Launceston, and here are some of the photos from the wetland centre just out of town there, where we managed to get our Tasmanian birdlist up over the 100 mark with the addition of the Purple Swamphen and the Reed Warbler. Heard the grassbird, but didn’t see it, alas. Black Swans were nesting all over the place!

This is a lovely area, manned by volunteers. I tried, years ago, to get authorities in Malaysia interested in doing something similar in my own area where we had a lovely swampy place. I once counted 21 bird species in half an hour without moving myself from one spot. And that was just birds. There was other wildlife – tortoises, butterflies, lizards and so on. It is a housing estate now, sans park of course.

The whole of Kuala Lumpur with its millions of people in the greater metropolitan area – once surrounded by swamp parkland teeming with life – has nothing like this. Launceston, with its tiny population, can do better than a huge rich metropolis like Kuala Lumpur. Here we have roads and hoardings, noise and pollution and much ugliness instead.

Wildlife and biodiversity has no value here unless it brings in money. And swamps are seen as ugly, full of dangerous things like mosquitoes and snakes.

Creepy cows

Bullied birders … pun intended

We park the car and the trouble begins…the crowd starts to gather, regarding us with cold stares, in grim silence…
They call in reinforcements, using some method of telepathy, because not a word is uttered…
Intimidation by staring us down begins…
They circle us, spreading out…staring unblinkingly, watching our every move.

Finally we capitulate and leave.

But even more creepily, when we return later on that day – just driving past the same field without stopping – the cows came galloping down the hill to chase us until we vanished from sight.

Tasmania, you have truly creepy cows.

From Cradle to Sea…

Yesterday, we started the day like this:

This was the view from our cottage from door when we woke up

And this was the road out…

And this was the car
To me, the West Australian, snow is alien, somehow unAustralian…

We left anyway, without waiting for the snow plough, as it was still snowing and there was not indication it was going to end.

And at last the snow plough passed us going in the opposite direstion and left the road looking like this

And this is where we ended the day, at St Helens on the east coast:

Along with Red-necked Stints and Red-capped Plovers running along the beach and a White-fronted Chat on the dunes…

So it really does snow in Australia.

This was Cradle Mtn yesterday.
And another view near Dove Lake
And then when we stepped outside our cabin door today, there was this…
And so Dove Lake and Cradle Mtn looked like this…
and this…

and my four travelling companions looked like this
irony – that white stuff is snow…
Cradle Mtn …with the baby inside the cradle if you squint
Another view of the lake

Blown away by Tasmania…

Button grass…
A hairy drive by night into Strahan in the rain…hunting out our accommodation in the dark…and here is where we landed up.
Our cottage
The heathland around our cottage
The back of our cottage
More of the heathland around us

All of which probably explains what happened last night.
Strahan, for those who don’t know, is on the west coast of Tasmania, in the path of the Roaring Forties, the westerly winds that sweep around the world interrupted only by the tip of South America, New Zealand’s south island — and Tasmania.

Winds arrive in Strahan uninterrupted from Tierra del Fuego, or thereabouts.

Which probably explains why, in the middle of the night, I awoke to feel my bed shaking. Literally shaking. The thunder banged, the rain battered the walls and bushes hammered at the house.  The walls moved. They shuddered and the floor shuddered with them, shaking the bed. Shaking me awake.

I was petrified…

However, the house prevailed, and all was well come morning. If cold. Minimum 4 degrees, maximum 10c. The wind straight from the Roaring Forties. Hail and sunshine, both. Glorious rainforest. One of the world’s most glorious wilderness areas.

Oh, and I bumped into a friend from my home town and Worldcon… in a sawmill. And then again at a totally deserted airport where we went to find a (mythical?) ground parrot. Helen, don’t tell me you were also there to track down the elusive parrot?

Where we were today: Mount Wellington, Hobart

While we were up there the Australian Airforce “Roulettes” – four daredevils in single engine planes were flying a spectacular display over Hobart to remember the Battle of Britain.
A natural rock garden…
Yep, that’s snow
Bitterly cold, wind incredible, cutting like a knife
Surely, Mt Wellington offers some of the world’s best vistas – all of Southern Tasmania, in all directions…

I love Melbourne…

We went to the Tim Burton exhibition before leaving Melbourne. Talk about sensory overload! It was incredible, but honestly – I think I would have liked it in half-hour doses over many days…

To visit it for a couple of hours all at once left me reeling with impressions.

So here is Melbourne at her most calming:

Two Wood Duck going for a walk in a park

And crossing the road

At the con…Orbit Pre-Hugo Party

Ian Irvine, Kate Forsyth and myself
Satima Flavell and Lucy Sussex
Kylie Seluka and Russell Kirkpatrick
Ian and Kate
Kate and Bernadette Foley

Correction: (re the pretty face on the left) It belongs to Patti Jansen, with Helen Venn looking ultra serious beside her, until…
Patti and Helen – not so serious, probably having discovered my inability to get names right…

Karen Miller, Ian Irvine and Kate