Mostly about animals

It hasn't all been fluffy dogs and chickens. We have also had lots of wild animal encounters — starting with the Territory Wildlife Park, one of two wildlife parks in the Northern Territory. Ken and I walked 7 km in the park, and would have walked more had the park not been closing and we were forcibly bundled (sort of) onto the park train to shuttle us to the exit.

Let's start with the more familiar animals: wallabies, dingos and crocodiles. One of each, anyway. The croc proved singularly uncooperative in terms of smiling for the camera but I thought the view of its tail scutes was impressive. I've included the water monitor as a companion lizard. Now that is a beady-eyed animal.

To this mix of large animals I am adding a tiny one: spinifex hopping mice, in their ingenious display cage. The orange-lit burrow is below ground, and the nest is made of (surprise!) spinifex grass. Spinifex mice are industrious and seriously speedy critters. I succeeded in catching one of them dashing upwards in the tunnel to the surface, to the left of the photo. These are nocturnal animals, so the light is kept low ... and the consequent quality of photos is not great.

Birds, glorious birds. We've seen a few raptor displays in various parks (Healesville is marvellous) and this one was terrific, and most informative, too. Barn owls are common in Australia — in fact they are the most widespread land bird in the world. Their flight is completely soundless. Owls fly silently because (a) they have big wings and don’t flap them a lot, and (b) their feathers are fringe-y and tattered, which break down air turbulence and cause less noise. We learned this first-hand as they flew about 10 cm above our heads.

But are owls wise? Not as clever as crows and parrots, apparently, despite what the Ancient Greeks, Winnie the Pooh and inhabitants of the Hundred Acre Wood think.

Rabbit knocked and Owl's head came out and said, ‘Go away, I'm thinking.’

‘Owl,’ said Rabbit shortly, ‘you and I have brains. The others have fluff. If there is any thinking to be done in this Forest, you and I must do it.’

‘Yes,’ said Owl. ‘I was.’

My motto: Never waste an opportunity to quote AA Milne.

Brahminy kites are common in the Top End. We often see them circling over the coastal path when we cycle to East Point, and from my office window on the 11th floor I see them circling below over the Esplanade. They're easy to identify with their white head and neck, and chestnut brown feathers. (Unlike black kites and whistling kites, who still look similar to me after two years of sightings.)

Do you remember the osprey next to us on the beach on Magnetic Island?

Here it is, in action. Well, not the same one. The same type of bird.

The osprey we saw on Magnetic Island ate its fish from the head down, while the body and tail flapped sporadically. We were enthralled. I assume that they eat the head first to stop it moving and biting, as well as the head being the most nutrient-rich. The crested hawk (also called the Pacific baza) in these pictures took the same approach with its fresh mouse … it very elegantly tore off the head, like a tasty hors d’ouevre before the main course.

Still on the subject of water birds, can you pick out the black bird in one of the trees above the water? I know you’re thinking it’s a cormorant, but you’re wrong. It’s an Australasian darter, sometimes called a snakebird because of its long slender neck. In the same lagoon, the pelicans posed nicely on some trees, admiring their reflections.

Just a few more birds, I promise: beach stone-curlews, blue-winged kookaburras, owlet nightjars and a rainbow bee-eater. We see heaps of rainbow bee-eaters when we cycle at East Point; like the blue-winged kookaburras, they’re flashes of brilliant colour as they dash around catching flying insects. I liked the expression on this one, though.

Bush stone-curlews (slightly different to the beach stone-curlews) produce the most hideous, high-pitched wailing at night. Helpful tip: When you're out in the countryside, and night falls, and you hear screechy, eerie shrieks and ghostly calls, and your blood runs cold, it’s probably the local curlews. Probably.

Now here are some extraordinary beasts — freshwater whiprays. They’re found only in northern Australia. You can feed them at the Territory Wildlife Park on the delightfully named Oolloo Sandbar (there is an Oolloo Conservation Area about 200 km south of Darwin) but we were happy to simply admire them in their freshwater tanks. They’ve been seen in the wild lunging up riverbanks and taking prey caught in their wash, which must be pretty scary if you weren’t expecting a large flappy thing to throw itself out of the river at you. I love their colouration. Like a gigantic Nguni cowhide rug, upside down.

Enough of the wildlife park. We are back on our bikes and cycling around McMinn's Lagoon. Watch what happens when Ken cycles towards the large group of magpie geese. You might need to expand/enlarge the video.

And here's a panoramic view of the whole lagoon.

On the other side of the lagoon, we found a paperbark forest. Yes, Ken is listening to the tree. If you put your ear against the bark of the tree, you can hear the water gurgling up the tree as transpiration/ osmosis/ capillary action pull it upwards out of the ground. I have never heard this before — well, to be honest, I had never before pressed my ear to a tree trunk. It sounds like water running through a pipe. Try it when you next meet a paperbark. You may find that the local ants who live around the tree object to this activity, but persevere through the ant attacks.

Now, ants. We've been bitten by all sorts of ferocious ants of all colours. But green tree ants are pretty awesome (as well as ferocious). They're sometimes called weaver ants because they build balloon-shaped nests in trees. The ants pull leaves close to each other and 'weave' them together with silk produced by the larvae.

Green tree ants have a large abdomen filled with a citrus-tasting fluid. You can persuade them to squirt their, well, their bottoms onto your tongue, without killing the ant. We first tasted green tree ants when we were at Bamurru Lodge – the ranger picked them off a tree.

These photos were jolly difficult to take because the wind was blowing and I was getting attacked by lots and lots of very fierce green tree ants. When I tried to keep the leaves still, the ants would swarm onto my hand and chomp me viciously.

Green ants have been traditional bush tucker for centuries — ants were pounded up in water and the liquid used to relieve colds and sore throats. Now super-trendy metro chefs are using green tree ants as garnishes. Coming soon to a restaurant near you ...

This is a genuine description by one chef: The taste is impressive for such a small item. You get a powerful lemon flavoured burst. Not suitable for a meal due to the small size, the abdomen of green ants is more like a breath mint. The entire ant can be eaten too, but usually not whilst living, unless you want them to pinch your tongue and mouth.

Love 'usually not whilst living'. Ummm ... does he mean 'dead'?