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.