wallabies

Wet again

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A wet, wet week — again!  But as the rain eased, there were compensations, like the lowest rainbow I have ever seen.

This was taken through my window, facing east, and the rainbow ended on my track, right where the gatepost used to be.

No pot of gold appeared, but it was a treat to be surprised by a rainbow making a home visit.

On a dip up along the track, a flock of Crimson Rosellas were splashing and flapping about in the wheeltrack puddles. There seemed to be quite a few young ones among them but all were having fun. You’d think they’d have had enough of wetness with the rain.

This young joey certainly had, blinking away the raindrops, flicking its ears but generally just hunkering down and enduring the weather. Much as I did, cabinbound and fed up with leeches stalking me every tme I ventured on to the grass!

Lazy day for all

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With the rain holding off and a thin warmth coming through the uniformly grey cloud cover, my share tenants were making the most of it.

The gypsy camper had its usual coterie of lollers and lazers, even though they hardly needed its shade this day. Habit, I suppose, or fear another might claim their spot if they left it unattended.

The youngest, who seems to always choose dirt rather than grass as a daybed, looked at me so sleepily I felt guilty bothering them with the camera. But they weren’t bothered enough to move.

Every wallaby in the yard was taking it easy, lying flat out or propped for dozing in a half-sitting position.

And they weren’t the only critters lulled by the warmth into immobility.

I hadn’t seen a snake for a few weeks, cool and wet as it’s been. This one remained here near the house for a long time, perhaps digesting, but underneath it would be extra warm as there are rocks buried in that grass. Once upon a less busy time I had a round herb garden here and kept the rock path weeded.

Wild steppers

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The steps to my verandah gate also lead to a dry patch on the top step. This has been claimed by a wallaby who sits there and surveys the soggy world. Only when I appear does she skid off, leaving tail and claw marks and several fat leeches.

Yesterday, as I approached the gate, I saw another of my wild co-tenants climbing up the open steps. An echidna was easily bridging each gap, stopping on every step to scratch. 

It was dislodging actual lumps of mud as it did so. Clearly a very muddy major excavation had taken place, as mud was sprinkled all over its back, dotting its spines; the bigger lumps must be in between them.

I wondered if an echidna can shake itself when dry, or is that special long claw the only way of cleaning?

The echidna reached the dry step, walked along it, and began descending at once. Whether it was just inquisitive, or whether it was disappointed in whatever it had hoped to find?

It stopped for a last scratch on the bottom step, then hopped off and waddled through a dish full of stones and water… why?  As so often, I wished I could ask, and they could answer.

And the walls came down…

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My house yard fence, so painstakingly erected and heightened over the last 17 years, is slowly being dismantled. No easy task, as the tussocks have grown through the netting, but my helper is so much stronger than I am.

As the four gates have been open to the wallabies and roos for nearly two years, and I am no longer likely to have visiting horseriders or dog owners requiring a yard, there seemed no point.

And there are many advantages. I can mow directly across my firebreak more easily and I can see to the forest edge unfettered by wire netting. Much better for photographs too!

Only two sides are down so far, and I am noticing how the overall feeling of the outlook has changed as the netting falls and the line between domesticated and wild disappears.

Much more convenient for the wallabies too.

The gates still standing look symbolic rather than functional. I must take note if the animals still go through the gate, following the track they have worn, or ‘jaywalk’ at will.

For me, it’s as if I can breathe better as my self-imposed barrier disappears. In The Woman on the Mountain I did say it was Wallaby World here; it’s even more so now!

Close encounters

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I have now completed a lattice gate to prevent the wallabies from coming onto the verandah and eating the plants from there.

A few do still come up the steps and nibble what they can reach from there, so the summer vine cover is not as advanced as it should be.

 

This one couldn’t be bothered climbing the steps, but for several hours the other warm day, while the shade lasted, lay right at the foot of the steps. As it happened to be a washing day, I went up and down the steps and past the lolling lass quite a few times. My stepping over her tail occasioned no more than a flick of an ear.

So far none of them have jumped over the gate, so I am enjoying my beautiful Crepuscule climbing rose, blooming in profusion along my verandah ‘windows’ once more, munched bare though it is from below.

Friend or foe

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These two young male Red-necked wallabies were dancing about like prizefighters, in a clinch, trying to land a punch — or a kick.

They careened along the fenceline, looking very serious in their aim to hurt each other, leaping up while balancing on their tails, or trying to.

But as one or other lost their balance, the tacit agreement seemed to be that they turn their backs on each other in feigned nonchalance, to recover their breath — or their pride. 

They’d scratch or preen themselves for a minute or two, then suddenly, and without any signal that I could see, they’d be at it again.

The pattern was repeated many times before they fell out of the open gateway in one of the fight sessions!

Toddler joey

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This wallaby joey is at the very cute spindly-legged, big-eyed stage. It is only starting to spend time out of Mum’s pouch — and that’s a nervous time.

It’s learning to care for itself, like de-fleaing and scratching in awkward places.

But the minute something new occcurs, so does panic, and it’s a headfirst scramble to get back into the safety of the pouch. This one even managed to fits its long legs in, but not the tail.

Took a few seconds for it to get up the nerve to wriggle around and present its little face instead of its tail. From this position it can face the outside world again, not quite as independent as it had thought.

Indian Spring

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The last days of July have been warm and calm. With a month of winter yet to come, it feels like Spring.

The ground is still very damp, but the locals don’t seem to mind.

This wallaby mum lazed in the sun for hours until the treeline shade caught up with her, while her joey stayed cosy ‘indoors’ but was wide awake and curious about all the goings-on, including me.

I love the oversized translucent pink ears of joeys this age!

The false Spring was heralded by the return of a few annual visitors and residents.

The Maned Wood Duck couple made their first appearance for the year, sleekly dapper as ever. As they pottered about the yard, the younger wallabies watched with interest. ‘Welcome back,’ I called.

I had been picking jonquils earlier, especially the Erlicheers, whose scent is so sweet and strong. I had weeded amongst them a few weeks ago and had been thinking I must do the other clumps of bulbs before Spring and its attendant snake worries.

But I am too late. On the rock steps I saw my first red-bellied black of the season. Oh no, they’re back, and it’s only July 31st.

Youngish and quite lively, it slipped into partial hiding in the unweeded bulb clumps opposite the Erlicheers, and stayed there, immobile, for ages, sunsoaking like the wallaby mum. I’m afraid I couldn’t say ‘Welcome back’.

Morning wallabies

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Early mornings are a good time for wallaby viewing as they move into the yard to catch the sun and start their day. Warming up and washing are essential first steps.

This mother and joey are combining the two as the sun rises above my eastern treeline. They looked like they were hugging but as it went on I realised it was mutual fur-cleaning — and maybe mutual affection too. Cute, eh?

But breakfast is also on the list of morning tasks, and in winter the wallabies go harder on all the plants in the yard as the grass growth slows down.

This young male decided to go for the jasmine vine, but all the lower section was stripped, so a standing breakfast it had to be.

After a while even that wasn’t enough, so he stretched up as far as possible and began pulling breakfast down to him.

Winter wallabies

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Now that the rain’s stopped, my yard is a sheltered sunspot for the wallaby population, which seems to have exploded.

I guess they give the kikuyu grass more attention now that it’s winter and there’s not a lot happening elsewhere, growthwise.

This morning they seemed as ‘herded’ and as focused on the task as a mob of cattle grazing.

The hillside is still seeping moisture so there aren’t many dry spots but this lot sensibly chose a higher bank. Two were drying off and warming their fronts, and two their backs, just as we would in front of a fire. Eating grass was not the purpose here.

There’s been a lot of wooing going on lately; much grunting and chasing and sniffing. One male nearly knocked me over yesterday as he belted past after a female. Desperate days to see which best man wins, but so far the ladies are all saying ‘no’.

Easygoing rednecks

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As the damp and chilly days increase in frequency, the Eastern Red-necked Wallabies really appreciate a sunny spell, to dry out — and to doze.

I counted thirteen lazing about on this sunny aftermath morning, enjoying that I’d finally mown some more of the orchard.

Some stick to their regular spots nearer the cabin, like my washing mother and joey duo featured last week. I love the demure way they cross their black-gloved paws, like good convent girls. Although the nuns would have been telling them to cross their legs too, in my day; the sprawl is most unladylike.

As the leaves yellow and fall from the Nashi trees, I am noticing the wallabies like to munch on them.  Either I was unobservant last autumn or they hadn’t developed the taste — or they are just being as unpredictable as ever.

They can’t reach the leaves on this tree when they’re green and attached, so now must be like manna from heaven!

Watching wallabies wash

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This mother and joey have claimed the bank outside my spare bedroom window as their patch. Mum lies there a lot in the warmth of the Autumn days, and the little one lounges inside, sometimes with its head out and one bent arm over the edge of the pouch, for all the world like a kid leaning out a window sill.

When she’s up, she can check out the territory for a good distance from this spot, before attending to daily duties, like the washing.

First she has to do the joey, who seems to submit more willingly than many kids do to a facecloth. I love the way its ears are so disproportionately big at this stage.

This joey is old enough to be useful, and can reach some of the awkward spots without even leaving the pouch. ‘Thanks, Mum. Your turn now; is this right?’

I know this is probably de-fleaing, but it looks so like a loving nuzzle that my heart melts as I watch. And just look at Mum’s lowered eyelashes. 

Other people go gooey over their pets; I can’t help being more than a little anthropomorphic around these creatures with whom I live. I don’t touch them or interfere with them, I just watch and walk amongst them, going about my own business, as they do with me — just another animal on this Refuge.

Mutual washing done, the joey is left to finish its own ablutions. Ears up, doesn’t it look  like a Bilby?

Meanwhile Mum keeps watch, although there’s nothing here to fear. Randy males are more likely what she’s on the alert for; they can make nuisances of themselves.