Mind Bending Noises in the Night

The White –bellied Sea-eagle perched upon my trailer, like it was hiding behind the pile of trapping buckets that were stacked six feet high up-right in the centre. What was it looking at? I was tucked somewhat cryptically in my Coleman Instant-up Gazebo which I had only half erected, because I was too lazy to put it up properly. I lay in my swag, curious about the sea-eagle.

I caught a glimpse out of the corner of my eye of a small falcon or kestrel trying to glean something off the trunk of a casuarina tree. The sea-eagle cast off toward the kestrel and, in it's distress the kestrel shot toward the clouds. Pounding the air with mighty force the sea-eagle beat its wings once to which the kestrel could only answer with with a pathetic flutter. The sea-eagle folded its mighty wings back and lunged forth with its talons to take the kestrel out. 

Free-falling in a flat spin neither would relent: the eagle not letting go of it’s prey and the kestrel fighting valiantly for it’s release. They smashed to the ground not 10 feet away from me as I fumbled for an i-device with which I could record this epic struggle between prey and predator. 

But, before I had the chance to take up a camera, an astonishingly large lycocid spider shot across in front of me making an insurgence at these two raptors that were, themselves, already consumed by the dust storm from their own battle.

Seething with frustration at this spoiled opportunity I spat hard at the ground, wiped the sweat off my brow with my left shoulder and looked over toward the billabong next to which I had set up camp. 

I was staggered to see a very over-weight dirty brown-orange orangutan leaning into the trunk of a tree in the most ridiculous and slovenly manner.

Dreams that incorporate all of the eerie sounds that one is subconsciously registering whilst asleep under the stars, interspersed by sequences of aerial dog fights from ‘Top Gun (on TV the night prior at Mt Isa), all interrupted by memes seen on facebook. 

A fantastic melange in my mind, asleep by the highway in far north west Queensland on the first night of this epic trip. But was any of it triggered by real-time events?? I am guessing the sea-eagle, the orangutan and the kestrel were subliminal. The spider? Not so sure. 

Going It Alone

Some of the Survey Site locals from the 2015 trip. Wonder if she'll be there this year?

It has been a little over 15 years since I HAVE NOT been the leading field biologist on a field survey. That means that it has been a little over 15 years since I have had the luxury of relaxing on a biological survey and thinking about nothing other than just 'doing'. Just 'doing' does require busting through rocks to dig pits, scratching around in the dirt and dust, waking up insanely early and going to bed insanely late and checking trap after trap after trap; but I am a biologist so I am cool with that. You have to invest effort in order to reap the reward. You have to spill the blood in the mud to capture or record the animals you so desperately seek. 

It sounds tough, but let me assure you, ‘just doing’ is a whole lot easier than ‘doing whilst managing a half a dozen other biologists’ at the same time.

How is the irony?? Most of us aspire to lead rather than to be led and I don’t think I am any different. But once you have been there and done that there is that interminable desire to go back to where you first came from so you can just chillax a little and enjoy your job.

Actually, to be honest, I think it is closer to a quarter of a century since I could really relax on a survey and ‘just do’. When I started in this job I was responsible for preparation, packing and maintenance of all of the field gear. That meant making sure the biologists had what they wanted when they wanted it, whilst still trying to dig most of pit traps myself in an attempt to impress my seniors!

Well today all of that changes. Today I will commence to undertake a full and comprehensive biological field survey totally alone, with no help from anyone and I am just a little bit excited. 

I mean no offence to any and all of the amazing biologists I have worked with over the years. We have had some seriously awesome times out bush. But this is a bucket list moment for me and I can think of nowhere I would rather be doing it that in the middle of absolutely nowhere in far north-west Queensland only days after a long drought has been broken by flooding rains. Bring it on.

Updates as I go. 

Happy Pappy Day for the 70th Time

 

About 350 days ago (actually 351 due to the leap year) I hit the panic button. It was my Dad's 70th and there was nary enough time to time to organize a half-decent shindig. But then I paused, took off my shoes and socks and did the math. He was only 69. Phew!!!

I usually remember his birthday, even without the virtual assistance of Facebook. However, I usually only remember with enough time to get a card in the mail. Whatever the case, I vowed to remember his birthday in 2016 with sufficient time to organize a 'birthday bash' worthy of such a great man. 

But I am a field biologist that specialises in tropical biological field surveys and March is 'survey season'. So, as is almost always the case, the rains came, I went bush and I will miss his birthday.

I wanted to be there with him, but I can't be and I am gutted about it. So rather than have a sook about it I made a little video to let him know why, to me, he is not just a 'dad', but a great dad. 

Happy Birthday Pappy.

Upside Down Under

It's not like I haven't been here before. Hang on! I haven't been here before. In the literal sense I have been to where I am going before. But metaphorically speaking I haven't been here before. 

In 2014, I posted Travel Is An Extreme Sport, which captured the journey to a very remote project area in Queensland where it took essentially three days of travel to spend one day on site. In context with the journey/s I am about to undertake, that trip now seems like the equivalent of meandering out to the letterbox. 

All too soon Animal Plant Mineral and I are heading to remote far north west Queensland, the Buccaneer Archipelego in the Kimberley (twice) and central western NSW to the greater district of Bogan (yes..really! Watch the famous Bogan Gate Tour). Thats about 24, 000 km of travel and no fewer than 10 flights and a few thousand kayems on the black top (that is bogan for 'driving' - when in Rome/Dubbo/Mt Isa).

Field biologists know all to well that there are good times to do a survey and bad times to do a survey. In the tropics, the best times are just after the wet season. So it is not unusual to find oneself spilling the same blood in the same mud (literally) at the same time each year: March/April. We are at the behest of mother nature: we work when the weather tells us it is time to work, no matter what we have on or where else we could be or should be.

Standing side-by-side Mother Nature, the other deity that calls us to arms at the same time of the year is Mr/Mrs Taxman(er..woman). His/Her decree also seems to be all surveys must be done in March/April, with reporting and billing to follow prior to June 30.

Collectively, this means that there is a heck of a lot of work to be done and very few weeks in which to do it! And hence, here I sit, at 3 am on any other Thursday morning in early March contemplating the enormity of the journey ahead.

I have been here before, but never have I been there when I should be here preparing our family house for listing on the market whilst trying desperately to get approval for, and commence building our new home.Anxious? Yes I am.

Lucky for myself and my family, behind this everyday average family man is a very far from average woman.