Post by braided-rug on Apr 25, 2006 12:32:33 GMT 10
After the fires had gone through the cleared patches, many very beautiful species of flowering plants came to life. Among the loveliest were the flannel daises which covered the Sandplain in the spring like a carpet - acres of them; and on the heavy gimlet land the hibiscus made an unforgettable picture. Indeed in some cases it became a nuisance, the slender niothy plants reaching up to 9 and 10 feet high and the lovely mauve trumpet flowers growing to great size. Now they are a thing of the past, just as are also the waving masses of frilly pink and silver everlastings which used to make the jam patches so exquisite in the spring. The plough and the sheep have swept them into the Limbo of the Past - utility replacing beauty.
Grasses of various species also sprang up after the burns; among them the vicious spear grass and barley grass identical with those of the Victorian Wimmera.
It seemed rather strange, as the soil and timbers were not at all similar - in fact all together different. Later on various weeds such as capeweed and red poppy were brought into the area in chaff and seed wheat; but in the beginning there were only grasses of various kinds, some of which seem to have died out, noticeable the "oat" grass which I have not seen for many years.
For the first few years there were many variaties of birds throughout the bush, and they showed no fear at all of us. A wagtail built its nest by our abode and the little mother would allow us to stroke her head and back whilst she made little twittering sounds. Jenny-wrens, too, would scarecly flutter away from their nests in the forks of dead jam-trees - they were delightfully unafraid; but time changed all that. The gorgeous rainbow-birds were in large flocks and we had the wonder and delight of each catching one as he backed up out of his burrow. After we had had a good look at him we let him go and he whisked away at a great pace. Later on in the latter part of the summer we had a unique experience with these same beautiful birds. Bush fires were burning around and the day was exceedingly hot. However, in our tea-tree verandah it was quite cool, and about 10 a.m. a pair of rainbow-birds flipped onto the veranda and parked on the spring-cart backed in under the shade. Bye and bye, another pair flipped in and joined the first pair, and by noon there were hundreds parked all over the cart, on the meat-safe and wherever they could find parking-space. We tied the dog up inside, and popped the cat under a large box and watch the beautiful visitors all the day.
Towards the evening the weather began to cool off a little, and out popped a pair of birds - however they didn't stay out long, soon whisked back into the shade, and the chopping and changing of positions began again among the crowd. Then an hour later one bird few out - then a couple - then a small bunch, all in good order. In a few minutes there cam back a pair - they didn't settle but just seemed to give a signal as it were, with a great swishing and rustling of wings the entire flock swept out of the shady verandah and disappeared. We saw only one pair of them after that mass exodus that season, and only a few of them appeared the next Spring. Mallee-hens' nests were fairly numerous but we never saw one with eggs - they were all worn-out homes.
On the Lakes at Erikin, ducks and swans were plentiful, and the ducks we shot made a pleasant change from "Tinned Meat". Bronze-wing pigeons used to come to our place and drink with the hens quite unafraid; and I often found their poor attempts of nests, either eggs or squabs, balanced precariously on some dead limb. When the foxes came they cleared out the bronze-wings from this district.
Snakes of various kinds were numerous and I killed 13 the first summer in and around our camp - they were not fightable as the Victorian tigers and browns, but as venomous.
Grasses of various species also sprang up after the burns; among them the vicious spear grass and barley grass identical with those of the Victorian Wimmera.
It seemed rather strange, as the soil and timbers were not at all similar - in fact all together different. Later on various weeds such as capeweed and red poppy were brought into the area in chaff and seed wheat; but in the beginning there were only grasses of various kinds, some of which seem to have died out, noticeable the "oat" grass which I have not seen for many years.
For the first few years there were many variaties of birds throughout the bush, and they showed no fear at all of us. A wagtail built its nest by our abode and the little mother would allow us to stroke her head and back whilst she made little twittering sounds. Jenny-wrens, too, would scarecly flutter away from their nests in the forks of dead jam-trees - they were delightfully unafraid; but time changed all that. The gorgeous rainbow-birds were in large flocks and we had the wonder and delight of each catching one as he backed up out of his burrow. After we had had a good look at him we let him go and he whisked away at a great pace. Later on in the latter part of the summer we had a unique experience with these same beautiful birds. Bush fires were burning around and the day was exceedingly hot. However, in our tea-tree verandah it was quite cool, and about 10 a.m. a pair of rainbow-birds flipped onto the veranda and parked on the spring-cart backed in under the shade. Bye and bye, another pair flipped in and joined the first pair, and by noon there were hundreds parked all over the cart, on the meat-safe and wherever they could find parking-space. We tied the dog up inside, and popped the cat under a large box and watch the beautiful visitors all the day.
Towards the evening the weather began to cool off a little, and out popped a pair of birds - however they didn't stay out long, soon whisked back into the shade, and the chopping and changing of positions began again among the crowd. Then an hour later one bird few out - then a couple - then a small bunch, all in good order. In a few minutes there cam back a pair - they didn't settle but just seemed to give a signal as it were, with a great swishing and rustling of wings the entire flock swept out of the shady verandah and disappeared. We saw only one pair of them after that mass exodus that season, and only a few of them appeared the next Spring. Mallee-hens' nests were fairly numerous but we never saw one with eggs - they were all worn-out homes.
On the Lakes at Erikin, ducks and swans were plentiful, and the ducks we shot made a pleasant change from "Tinned Meat". Bronze-wing pigeons used to come to our place and drink with the hens quite unafraid; and I often found their poor attempts of nests, either eggs or squabs, balanced precariously on some dead limb. When the foxes came they cleared out the bronze-wings from this district.
Snakes of various kinds were numerous and I killed 13 the first summer in and around our camp - they were not fightable as the Victorian tigers and browns, but as venomous.