hen haven

Our chooks have always had plenty of room to forage and scratch and play and, well, do what chooks do. Part of their run was completely enclosed and safe from predators and a larger area was fenced but otherwise open.

We had thought about enclosing the whole area for a while, mainly to keep the ornery sparrows from stealing the chook food, and finally tackled the mammoth project after visitations from raptors with eyes on our girls. The first task was to remove the huge native pittosporum, a favourite hotel for the sparrows and far too big to retain within the new run.

We proceeded with hole digging and post erecting,

and it wasn’t long before we realised the need to allow the girls to roam and shut them out of the work space. They were just a little too helpful.

Unfortunately, they make a terrible mess of any tidy garden space, something I had to ignore until the end of our mission.

Once the boundary posts were in, we added the support beams

before continuing with the central posts and beams.

Next came the tricky part – the roof.

Accompanied by minor swearage, we manhandled the first section of wire into place and secured it, feeling inspired to carry on.

We soon finished the roof and used netting clips to join the sections.

Rather than purchase a lightweight aluminium screen door from a local retailer, we sourced a solid steel model from the salvage yard at a quarter of the price. By the time we sprayed a coat of primer, spent hours painting two coats of colorbond and fixed the bird wire, I’m not sure the effort:reward ratio was favourable but it serves its purpose.

Once the wire sides were completed,

we removed the original boundary fence line and relocated the grazing cages inside the new run.

A place to shelter from inclement weather,

climbing frame

and seesaw completed the new enclosure.

We created a new border where the original fence line came down, added mulch, planted a few Kangaroo Paws and re-seeded the lawn area.

And planted two apple trees in the new yard. The chooks are wondering – what’s next?

cockatoo chaos

We have so many bird species in our garden I couldn’t even begin to name them. The biggest by far are the yellow-tailed black cockatoos. They are often in pairs quenching their thirst at the stock troughs, one will keep lookout in a nearby tree while the other sups and then they swap places. Then there are times when a whole flock will descend on the Banksia tree for a feast.

We hear them coming as they call to each other in their distinctive raucous, yet delightful, manner. They nibble the cones and break them open to eat the seeds.

I don’t begrudge their much needed nutrition but I wish they wouldn’t leave such a trail of destruction.

These stunning birds were first described in 1794 by the English naturalist George Shaw as Psittacus funereus, relating to the dark, sombre plumage as if dressed for a funeral. He seems to have missed the bright yellow cheek patches and tail band. Our magnificent peppermint tree is a popular spot to survey the surrounds before indulging in another Banskia banquet.

The body feathers are edged in yellow and those of the subspecies found in Tasmania have a more prominent scalloped appearance.

Adult males have pinkish red eye rings and black beaks

while females have grey eye rings, a bone coloured beak and brighter, more clearly defined yellow cheek patches.

The monogamous couples raise a single chick each year which will remain with them for 12 to 18 months. The constant ‘begging’ squawk of the young is enough to test any parental patience. One particular pair at Rotterdam Zoo stopped breeding when they were 41 and 37 years of age, though continued to bond closely. I suspect these two will be bringing offspring to dine before long.

With warmer weather around the corner, we look forward to seeing more of these beautiful creatures.

Johnson’s Beach

At the end of another winter, thoughts turn to warmer days, sunshine and walks along the beach. Just a 10 minute drive from us is the peaceful Johnson’s Beach at Penguin. Apparently, it is named after a certain Mr. Johnson who lived at the end of Clerke Street near the beach but he remains a mystery.

A stroll along the shore reveals art installations with a difference, courtesy of the artist in residence, Mother Nature. Magnificent rocks of all shapes and sizes are coloured with myriad earthy hues.

Subtle brush strokes and feathering etch the sand, following the retreating tide.

Smooth vanilla mounds are drizzled with raspberry coulis

and diamonds sparkle on a watercolour background.

Elegant accessories have been discarded flippantly, awaiting a seat at the next salty soiree .

Returning to reality…. Spring isn’t far away and a drive to Penguin for a meander along Johnson’s Beach followed by a leisurely lunch is high on the agenda.

Fossil Bluff

My first visit to Fossil Bluff at Wynyard in 2009 was a little disappointing. The tide was in and, although the sandstone cliff was spectacular and scenery stunning, I didn’t see any evidence of fossils.

More recently, we arrived at low tide to find the expansive beach of Freestone Cove with Fossil Bluff looming to the east

and Table Cape to the west.

We wandered among rocks, weathered and worn smooth by the incessant ebb and flow of the tide.

Fossil Bluff was created 275 million years ago by a tidewater glacier. The 25 metre sandstone cliffs are strewn with fossils, including the remains of the oldest marsupial found in Australia named Wynyardia bassiana in honour of the town.

The grey rock at the base of the cliff is Wynyard Tillite, deposited by the glacier between 303 and 293 million years ago while Australia was part of the super continent called Gondwana. Fossil Bluff sits on top of the tillite and it is clear to see where the sandstone and tillite meet.

It wasn’t long before I spied a plethora of trilobites emerging from rock. One of the earliest known groups of arthropods, trilobites became extinct about 252 million years ago after existing in oceans for 270 million years.

Myriad shells of varying shapes and sizes decorate every surface

along with ancient ancestors of the turritella sea snails.

Nature’s artwork surrounded us,

and with a little imagination, an ossified whale and porpoise.

A lone slab of tessellated rock seemed out of place among its gnarly neighbours.

I was wondering why my niece was so interested in photographing this particular rock formation

until she showed me what she had captured. I stole her idea.

devilish dining

The Tasmanian Devil may not fit the ideal impression of cute and cuddly but I think they have a certain appeal. A recent visit to Wings Wildlife Park confirmed my notion and, watching them lazing in the sunshine, I would go as far as saying they are adorable.

The glossy dark fur is marked with a characteristic white stripe across the chest and sometimes across the rump.

The largest carnivorous marsupials in the world, the devils powerful jaws and teeth enable them to devour every scrap of their food, including bones and fur.

The Devil Facial Tumour Disease, first recorded in 1996, decimated the devil population and a large network of captive breeding programmes was established in the early 2000s. The contagious cancers were transmitted through biting during the fierce competition for food. Facial scarring is not unusual from the frenzied activity.

Peace was about to be shattered

as a meerkat impersonator spotted the arrival of lunch.

There is nothing quite like a succulent wallaby leg to elicit the grunts and growls that have earned the Tasmanian Devils their reputation for being aggressive.

They seemed to understand the concept of sharing for a while

before breaking a large enough morsel to enjoy in private.