April 16, 2003Growth being profuse in a rain forest, there is always something either to pick (star fruit, figs, hibiscus blossoms, bird of paradise flowers) or something to drag (particularly, in this part of Australia, the surprising heavy leaves that crash down periodically from the several varieties of palm that dot the property). Humans, collaborating species that we have domesticated, and beasts that prefer to remain untamed partner to produce the strands that form the relationship web in such a locale, and raking, clearing, and mowing help keep one a step ahead of the encroaching jungle and those of its denizens whose intentions toward us may be less than innocuous.

Two creatures from the realm that intervenes between humanness and wildness stood out for me from this backdrop during this Oz visit: a gray horse whose name I have not yet learned, and an aged feline called Puss. Puss, whose life ended peacefully not long after I departed, had long enjoyed free range over the many acres of her neighborhood, her forays winding gradually down as her body lost its vitality. Though like many an older human her advancing maturity induced a certain crotchetiness that tended to rear its head at inopportune moments, her life was on the whole rather a "good" one. May she revel in comfort in that great catnip patch in the sky!

The horse in question resides still in this world, in a small field along a path that emerges from the confluence of narrow roads at the driveway's end. Neglected by his owner, he lacks shed or lean-to in which to shelter from the rain or sun, hood or mask to keep the flies from his face and (most importantly for such a social animal) no regular company (equine, feline, canine, porcine, caprine, ovine, or human). Avians alone stop in regularly, but chiefly to purloin snacks. We got into the habit of making regular pilgrimages down to his enclosure, clutching carrot & apple in our paws as tokens of our esteem. Feed on these he would, but as if unwillingly; and rarely would he allow even a follow-up pat to head or muzzle, snubbing the human animal for its untrustworthiness. I remember him yet, staring out at me from his paddock with large silent eyes that concurrently plead & accuse. May his isolation soon end!

April 2, 2003Mullumbimby, Byron Bay, Burringbar, Murwillumbah, and their neighboring towns and townships sit within the largest caldera in the Southern Hemisphere, that of the volcano that the Aboriginals called Woolumbin, which is currently known as Mt. Warning. Most of Australia is so bare because its rock is so old that erosion has severely depleted it of minerals. Woolumbin's eruption, which splashed minerals all through its neighborhood, ensured that its crater would become a garden of botanical delights. This is still true out away from concentrated human habitation, where plants and animals continue to lead relatively normal lives.

Not entirely normal, of course; "normal plant and animal life" no longer exists anywhere on earth, due to the introduction into every ecosystem of "exotics" - species like zebra mussels and lantana which, though kept under control in their native habitats thanks to the ministrations of evolution, run amok when plopped down in territories that never saw them before. In this neck of the woods, besides the lantana, it is the madiera vine, which puts out little tubers that, when cut or otherwise disturbed, fly everywhere and produce more vines. It is also the cane toad, a large ugly species that brutalizes native fauna. Just the other day I entered my room to find a large cane toad already occupying it, one who appeared to resent being chased out. The very next day I located another, hibernating or aestivating in the stump of a palm tree.

Still, the native species cling on to their niches, driven by necessity to adapt to changing conditions in the best evolutionary style, like the goanna (monitor lizard) that I surprised one morning in the bathroom noshing on the cat's food. As soon as it saw me it made a beeline for the window over the bathtub, its point of entry; but the bathtub being in the way, it first fell therein, and spent a few frantic minutes clawing at the porcelain before it could extract itself and return to more familiar surroundings.

In regions such as these, a good way to keep up with what is happening, to nature and to society, is the local newspaper, of which there are several within Woolumbin. The one I picked up as soon as I arrived on this visit was The Mindreader; here is an example of the news that it sees as being fit to print:
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In preparation for the Earth Summit in South Africa, the UN conducted a worldwide survey consisting on a single question: "IN YOUR HONEST OPINION, HOW CAN THE FOOD SHORTAGE PROBLEM BE SOLVED IN THE REST OF THE WORLD?"

The survey was a huge failure because no one could understand the question:

In Africa, they didn't know what "FOOD" meant.

In Eastern Europe, they didn't know what "HONEST" meant.

In Western Europe, they didn't know what "SHORTAGE" meant.

In China, they didn't know what "OPINION" meant.

In the Middle East, they didn't know what "SOLVED" meant.

And in the USA, they didn't know what "THE REST OF THE WORLD" meant.


You can contact The Mindreader, and editors Trish Mann & Norman Ingram, at mann9@bigpond.com - if you do, tell 'em "g'day" from me!

Link to News of the Past