Not cute for long

Aren' they adorable?  Lying there, sunning themselves on a South Georgian beach under an overcast sky.

They've never seen a human before and they know no fear.  Affectionate and curious, they are more than prepared to travel the short distance to me to figure out what I am.  In fact, one rests its head on my lap as I sit there and decides to fall asleep.

I swear, I'm not in breach of the Antarctic treaty which requires me to stay 30 metres away.  It came to me.  Now what am I supposed to do? It's started to snore.

As I look around for guidance, the marine biologist in our group is laughing at me.  That's not much help.  Staring down at this gorgeous pup, it's hard to imagine it will grow exponentially in size.  After all, it is an Elephant Seal.

Silverback

The intelligence behind these eyes requires no explanation.  Watching.  Contemplating.  Speculating.

I don’t know how long he has been resident here, but between cold winter sun and institutionalisation, his posture reflects a defeated man.  Pride is what keeps this alpha male alert.

Defying his depressing circumstances, he feeds his intellectual hunger through observation.  He eyes our interactions.  He silently critiques our behaviour.  He is an unsuspected voyeur.

But in the end, it doesn’t change much.  He is still thousands of kilometres away from a home he may no longer remember.  How we would cope if the situation was reversed?

Magpie

Finally, it’s safe to walk the streets again. No longer do I have to grow eyes in the back of my head and be wary of ambush. The nestlings are finally old enough to quell their parents protectiveness.

In Brisbane, the pattern is familiar. As soon as Spring hints that it may be shrugging off winter’s dry, adult magpies begin to warble. Within a couple of weeks their song quietens and walkers begin to get nervous. They perch silently, waiting for strangers to pass close enough to be suspected of being a threat. And then they swoop. Low, fast and menacing, they strike from behind and tear at hair, ears or anything else they can injure with their beaks until you have passed out of their territory.

Walking backward past them is one sure way not to be struck: they prefer surprise. But the two at the end of my street are particularly cunning. They execute their guardianship with a craftiness I have rarely seen in birds. One sits in the open to distract while the other attacks from a blind spot. The first time it happened to me, I was as impressed as I was injured that they had outwitted me. Their tactic worked. I did what I could to avoid walking past them for the remainder of their nesting season.

Tah-dah!

Last week I declared that I would soon launch a website that will help correct, restore and enhance photos you’ve taken or inherited.  Today, that site goes live.

At www.perfectmypictures.com.au, I offer image processing services for those of us who prefer just to “point-and-shoot” with our cameras.  The process is ridiculously easy:

1. Upload your images and instructions via the link on our Contact page. 
2. We’ll process them and send you an email with details to your private gallery.
3. If you’re happy with them, pay our invoice and we’ll remove the watermarks so you can download the final version to your computer.

For basic image correction, prices start from as little as $1.50 per photo.  There is a detailed price list available on the FAQs page and samples of my work for you to review.

With Christmas just around the corner, here are a few cheap alternatives for personalised gifts in these tough economic times:

• Restored versions of tatty and/or damaged photographs
• Colour and exposure corrected photos to include in a calendar
• Framed pictures of the kids tearing open their presents on Christmas morning
• An album of your best photos from different holidays/events over the year

There is very little I can't do.  I hope you feel as excited about these new services as I do and recommend them to your friends and colleagues.

Busy busy busy

It’s been nearly seven years (within a couple of weeks in fact) that I last set foot here, in Antarctica.  Time certainly does fly.  I’ve been writing this blog for about 18 months now and I’ve been pleasantly surprised by the following it has grown.  For my lack of reliability over the last couple of months, I extend a heartfelt apology to my readers.

The truth is:  I’ve been a little distracted.  Since August alone, my first eBook on Small Business has been published, I‘ve released an updated website and have been thoroughly monopolised by some of my customer’s projects.  From a photography perspective, I did my first wedding (I never thought I’d do one of them) and made my first movie (with animation and all).  And very soon, I’ll be launching a new website that will help correct, restore and enhance the photos you’ve taken (or inherited) so that you can look like a professional photographer too.

The most important of my distractions has been my wedding.  Less than 5 weeks away now, there has been a flurry of activity coordinating both the event itself and the travel arrangements of our international contingent.

Thank you for your loyalty and patience.  We’ll be back to regular weekly updates soon.

Water Monitor

Diminutive he might be but his stoicism is that of a giant.  Examine his countenance and you will find the steel and determination of countless generations before him.

His is a volatile world.  At his size, predators still threaten on a regular basis.  Competition is rife for food.  And then there is the stress brought by the clumsy trampling of ignorant humans.

As he stares back through the lens at men, I understand that he is more curious than cautious.  He knows, from me, he has nothing to fear.

Wedding Tribute

On the weekend, I was flattered to be invited to photograph the marriage of a close friend. While all weddings are special, his struck me as particularly inspiring for two very important reasons.

Both groom and bride have suffered considerable personal tragedy in their lives. The impact of these events has been so great that it is even reflected in their children. Despite all that has happened to them, they have patiently persisted and they are amongst the kindest, most respectful people I know. I wonder if I would be as well-adjusted if I had experienced what they have undergone.

The second reason is the sense of unity that saturated their special day. It wasn’t a lavish affair full of pomp and ceremony but a breaking of bread for a loving couple surrounded by those important to them. More than a happy gathering of strangers, it was a community of extended family.

I feel privileged to have shared in their celebration.

Lookouts

Shielding against the glare, they all peer skyward.  “Can you make them out?”  Heads shake.

“I can hear them though,” one mutters nervously.  “They can’t be far away.”

“We should get under cover.  We don’t want to be caught in the open like this.”

“Not until I see them.  I want to know what they’re flying.”

“Don’t be a fool.  We’ll never outrun them if they spot us.”

“If we can’t see them, they can’t see us.  They’ll never see us against the sand if they’re that high.”

“I’m not taking that chance.  You coming?” The third is torn by paranoia and curiosity.  He doesn’t reply and paws indecisively at the beach with his toes.

“But we didn’t do anything wrong,” he finally complains.

“I know, but they don’t know that.”

“Okay, okay,” accepts the first.  “Let’s get back to the trees.  Maybe I can see them from there.”

“Hurry, it’s getting louder.”   The three turn and scamper back to safety, failing to notice the trail of footprints they leave behind.

Hybrid

Clean, broad petals with crimson hues are a colourful declaration of the early arrival of summer. The brilliant explosion of these bulbs in my front garden never fails to impress. 

They had been threatening to burst for a few days now. Slowly growing in stature, the stems of this plant had prepared to boast.  Flowers, tightly closed, began to swell. And when finally the saturation of colour grew too great, they unfurled their exquisite form.

The dedicated artisans who crafted this Amaryllis-Belladonna hybrid can be justifiably proud of their enhancement of nature's work.

Small Business Essentials

Did you know that at Indelible Imaging, we do more than freelance photography?  We also do small business consultancy and training.  While this blog is usually dedicated to the exclusive promotion of our photography, we’re dedicating this week’s space to our newly released book called “Small Business Essentials: cashflow, sales and marketing principles you should know.”

Whether you’re an established small business or just thinking about getting one off the ground, this book is for you.  Written in an easy-to-understand style by Michael Partis, it is designed as an excellent primer for small business, no matter what country you are based in.  No chapter is longer than 2,000 words (that’s about 8 A4 pages) and it contains o industry jargon or acronyms.

Available today at the Apple iBooks store, you have the opportunity to be amongst the first to own a copy of our first published release.  For those of you who don’t use Apple technologies, don’t fret.  It should be available for other technologies before the end of the month.

Buy you copy today!

Spring

Winters aren’t particularly cold in Brisbane.  Days are mild, nights are cool, but neither are sufficiently chilly to compel nature into hibernation.  You hardly notice the difference until September comes.

And then come the first Spring showers, igniting garden beds in an explosion of colour.  Competing for attention, the brilliant hues of countless flowers bask in the sunlight.  For me, that is what Spring is all about.

There is little I enjoy more than fixing a macro lens to my camera and taking shots like this one.

The Singing Ship

Without doubt, it is perfectly positioned.  On a green hill overlooking a rocky shoreline, it is an exquisitely shaped vessel.  Painted brilliant white, it matches the colour of the crests of water washing over the sun-bleached stone beach.  From a distance, it is a monument that deserves admiration.

But it is so much more than that.   In a light breeze, the ship starts to talk.  Air rushes along its contours and through carefully designed holes along its length.  Its hum becomes a song as the wind increases.  As its voice rises and tails with the seaborne breeze, I cannot help but look around.  Surely there must be someone playing this instrument but it is only the elements.

After just a few minutes, I find myself hypnotised by its serenade and am disappointed when the wind drops far enough to silence it.  My mind wills the air to gust again so that I can hear this siren’s song.  I am teased by its occasional bursts.

41 years this monument has stood at Emu Park.  Commissioned to celebrate the bicentenary of Captain Cook’s “discovery” of Australian in 1770, it was designed, built and paid for by locals.  If I was one of them, I would be proud of this testament to Australian exploration.

Termites

It is the dry season.  Creek beds that flood when summer storms dump torrential rain are now full of sunburnt grass.  Nearly four feet tall in places, this brittle lawn blankets the entire length of the watercourse’s path.  Steel grey tombstones rise defiantly above its surface.  Under a searing sun, they add to the oppressiveness of the scene.

But these monuments of soil are not shaped by eons of wind and floodwater.  They are termite mounds and each holds a colony of many millions.  Feeding off the dead grasses that surround them, they have only limited time to harvest and store sufficient food before the rains return.  While their Queen lives, each tombstone will continue to grow and thrive.

The success of each colony depends on how well it controls the temperature of its home.  They purposefully construct them in order to minimise their exposure to the baking sun.  Broadsides facing east-west, they resemble compass needles pointing north when viewed from above.  And they are rarely more than a few degrees off.  These dry weather lovers are often called magnetic termites for that reason.

Wedge-tailed Eagle

Ordinarily, I would continue along the freeway instead of turning onto a development road.  But I want to make up time after a slow start to the day.  Asphalt turns to gravel and then to graded soil in quick succession.

At first, I can’t tell what it is.  There’s something lying in the middle of the road.  I start to slow.  It’s a decent sized ‘roo.  Clearly, it’s been collected by a road train on its way through.  But what’s standing over it?  Is that a bird?  Slower still.  Bloody hell, it’s huge.  Down to a crawl.

Now I can see it’s a Wedge-tail.  And it’s visibly lifting the whole corpse as its peels off strips of flesh.  A short parp on the car horn.  I want it off the ground.  It looks up at me for the first time but doesn’t move.  It’s not going anywhere.

It looks nearly three and a half feet tall and glares menacingly at me as I drive off the road around it.  I’m confident of the intelligence in its eyes and lock the car doors just in case it’s worked out how to use the handles.

Once past him, I accelerate again.  Looking into the rearview, I watch the apex predator return to its feed.    I have never seen one so brazen before.

This photo is of a juvenile who is not yet entirely sure of himself but when he reaches maturity, he will be equally as impressive as those I've seen in western Queensland.

Mindil Beach

The waters of this stretch of ocean calmly lap at the sand without white-crested peaks.  The sand is not blisteringly pale and does not squeak as bare feet trample across it.  In all, Mindil Beach is a subdued place to sit and watch the sun set over the ocean.

On Sunday evenings, people buy freshly shucked oysters from the markets just behind the protective sand ridge and find their spot to observe nature’s rich colours.  Sipping at champagne, spectators chat and enjoy their fresh seafood before the daily show begins.

Silence descends as the smouldering sun reaches the horizon.  Turning red as it sinks into the distant water, some imagine they can hear it fizz as daylight is extinguished.  And then it is dark.  While there are no lingering twilights here, the sunsets of Darwin are no less spectacular.

Jumping Crocodiles

I’ve done some pretty stupid things in my life.  But it’s pretty hard to imagine doing anything more foolish than encouraging crocodiles to jump in an open, shallow-bellied boat.

To understand how silly that is, you have to appreciate that these are not farm crocs but the wily, territorial predators of one of the world’s toughest environments – the Adelaide River in the Northern Territory.  There are enough crocodiles in this 200km watercourse to distribute one every 25 metres.

And they aren’t real loveable either.  Saltwater monsters in this river average 4 metres and even if they reach 5.5 metres (like this monster) they still aren’t “Top Dog” in this part of Australia.

This is not my favourite (or best) shot from the day but it certainly evidences my point – it was not very bright of me to board an unprotected vessel to go tease 500kg reptiles that preceded the dinosaurs.

Two things are very clear in my mind:  (1) If you fell into this fast-flowing river, you wouldn’t have to worry about your mistake for very long; and (2) If I had the opportunity to do it again, I’d do it in a heartbeat.

Spotted Quoll

Spotted Quolls are my favourite Australian animal.  They are feisty, curious and strong-limbed.  Considered an apex predator, they are the second largest carnivorous marsupial (behind the Tasmanian Devil) and to hear them in the wild, they sound every bit as intimidating.

But unlike other marsupials, they have brilliant colouring.  Their fur is a bright, tawny brown with white spots – perfect for hiding on the dappled sunlit floor of sub-tropical rainforests.  Their noses are disproportionately large for their faces and their ears, disproportionately small.  It makes them no less attractive.

There are four species of Quoll, but I have only ever seen this one in the wild.  I have heard another but in the dense rainforests of the tropical north, I could not spot it.

They don’t live long.  At two years of age, this one is already middle-aged.  And while they are nocturnal, they spend their days basking in the sun.  For what little time they get, they cram in an awful lot of living.

Legacy

The gravelly voice of a bluesman crackles over a wireless.  Soaked in perspiration, the landowner eases himself into a chair on the porch.  It creaks under his weight.  Casually, he sips at a jam jar of sweet lemonade and unwinds to the gospel melody of the musician.

He stares off at the summer sun as it dips below the line of oaks smothered in Spanish moss.  He won’t sit here long.  It is nearly time for supper and it is an indulgence to spend batteries on a day other than the Sabbath.

He runs his hand over the twisted vines that curl up from the chair’s legs to form arms.  Allowing himself a quiet smile, he admires the handiwork of the slave that had made it for him.  It was a pity that he had to beat him so hard the first time.  The slave should never have tried to waste quality timber for this luxury.

As the song ends, he leans forward and switches off the radio.  Rising to his feet, he breathes deeply the cooling air of early evening and heads inside.  Little does he appreciate that the music he just enjoyed will one day hurtle through space on technology impossible for him to conceive.  And while he may be master of this landscape, it is the work of his slave that will endure to bear witness to these advances and not his self-righteous hegemony.

Whales

I was unfamiliar with Victor Harbour when I arrived.  Certainly, I didn’t know its reputation as a winter haunt for the Southern Right whale.  It is early September and I should have missed the whale season by the best part of a month.  But sometimes, you just get plain lucky.

A few days ago, a pod had entered the sheltered waters just north of the sleepy town.  Locals expected them to leave any day.  I have no time to waste.  A short drive and I am sitting on a pale-sanded beach, watching four of them bob in shallow seas not 100 metres from the shore.

I don’t know how old they are or how big, but one is clearly a calf being watched closely by its mother.  They are so close, it would take little effort to swim out to them.

Farther out, I spy two more rolling and pec slapping deeper water.  And out by a granite island, a more energetic soul regularly breaches, thumping the gentle swell with almighty splashes.  There are seven in all.

I sit mesmerised on that beach for hours, watching them rest and play.  Immune to the cold wind that sweeps across the water, I take more than my fair share of shots.  This is my favourite – mother and calf in foreground, a breaching member of the pod behind.