The Northern Migration

Do you ever wonder who comes up with group terms for birds and animals? Such as a parliament of owls, an array of hedgehogs, or a tower of giraffes (yes, really)? This is a rabbit hole that deserves excavating at some point, but as most mornings we wake to a cacophony of high pitched faarrrk, faaarrrk, faaarrks, heralding the awakening of the crows, I can easily understand why the collective noun for these faaarrrkers is a murder.

We are nearing the end of a three week stay at Blacks Beach, 15 kms north of Mackay. The beach stretches six kms and is as usually punctuated by fishers people tryng their luck. The fishing is patchy, but the keen anglers are now bringing in Spanish Mackeral, though I have yet to see one grace our table. The fisherman tells me he’s not that keen.

We are lucky to have not one but two sets of visitors while we’re here. Aussie mates Eleanor and Philip are doing on water what those from the southern states generally do on the road: heading north over Winter. They leave Lake Macquarie, south of Newcastle, NSW in early July and this is the first time our paths converge. We think we’re lucky with our whale encounters off K’gari/Fraser Island, but every day they are sailing with hundreds of migrating whales and, in the solitude and quiet the open ocean, they can hear the whales singing in communication.

It is hard to fathom the numbers of migrating whales: estimates vary, but around 60,000 leave Antarctica and begin the world’s longest mammal migration of 5,000 kms to the warm waters of northern Australia where they mate, calve and teach their newborns how to be whales. Comparisons with the vast numbers of “grey nomad” caravaners heading north over Winter are inevitable, though there’s probably a bit less of the mating and calving.

Each time we go to a lookout – or the Eimeo pub which, while otherwise unremarkable, is on a bluff and has stunning views and sunsets – we see humpbacks. At this time of year they are heading back south. As will the caravaners and yachties as Spring arrives.

While Martyn and Sue are here we take a trip 80km inland, up the Pioneer Valley, to Eungella and Broken River. Our mission is to see platypuses and this part of Australia is recognised as the world’s most reliable location for observing them in the wild. The drive starts as we expect with miles of sugar cane fields, a couple of sugar mills and little else. Then the road climbs. And climbs. And climbs, zig zagging almost 700 metres up to Eungella where we can look back out over the rainforest back to the coast.

But the platypuses – Broken River does a great job of making sure you have the best chance of seeing these shy creatures. There are paved walkways with information boards describing the habitat and local flora and fauna. Two viewing platforms, one up and one down stream sit at broad calm pools, and further well beaten paths edge the river. Dawn and dusk are the best times for viewing, but patience is definitely the order of the day. After 45 minutes squatting riverside, I need knee replacements. As I decide to walk down and try the other end of the river my reward awaits at the road bridge. A feisty little animal – monotreme actually – is ruffling the waters and riverbed looking for tidbits. We see several more over the early evening so we’re relieved we won’t have to get up at dawn and try again. FYI a group of platypuses, should you be lucky enough to see more than one at a time, is the very appropriate paddle.

photo credit for playtpus photos goes to Martyn and Sue.

We are on the final countdown now, with just under two months of travel remaining. In mid October we fly home, mercifully a few days post the New Zealand election, so we are missing all the rhetoric and hyperbole that is typical in the run up. I’m extremely confident in the Electoral Commission however, as having moved 500 metres up the road and notified my change of address (same post/zip code), they apparently don’t have enough information about which electorate I’m in. IT’S THE SAME ONE! Sorry Kiwis, but there’s something we can learn from the Aussies – introduce democracy sausages – it might make the election more palatable.

3 thoughts on “The Northern Migration

  1. Faarkin hell. Glad you managed to stop Scott from trying to produce a platypus sausage – the males have a nasty poison spike . . .

  2. Lovely stories Bev. Beautiful photos. I didn’t realise I had eaten a democracy sausage! I wonder what they call the stuff at the cake stall? Libertarian lamingtons? Majority rule muffins? People’s choice pies?
    Had a brush with an attempted murderer in Kings Park the other day whilst trying to eat a delicious sourdough roll with Camembert and turkey filling . The local crow who clearly finds such food much more easy to source than his traditional fare swooped onto my fingers millimetres from my mouth and grabbed my roll, taking a piece of my finger with it. Faarrk off was heard for miles.
    Try not to end these adventures too soon. Will miss the blogs terribly.

  3. Hi Scott and Bev,
    As ever, a delightful read! Your arrival back in NZ is well timed – the usual hyperbole and nastiness of electioneering is in full swing here….I shall be glad to put it behind me when I fly over at the end of October into Brisbane to finally pick up my motorhome and start my own 3-year Big Lap – “S n a i l s p a c e Adventures”. I would love to catch up in Wellington before I go in order to pick your collective brains and will flick you an email closer to the time. Enjoy your remaining weeks.

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