Tag Archives: Wildlife

A Day in Litchfield National Park

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Friday 23 August 2024 – Our stay in Darwin was really more of a staging post between the Kimberley cruise and the next segment of our Australia trip, more of which later. However, we had a whole day here, and it was to be filled with an excursion to Litchfield National Park, about 100km south of Darwin. The tour was included in our formal itinerary, but entry tickets to the park were not. These are only available online, so we stumped up the AU$10 each before we set out. At no stage were we asked for evidence that we’d paid our dues, by the way. I don’t know how, or even if, it’s policed in any way.

Anyway, the itinerary included some interesting-looking items, such as seeing termite mounds, rivers and waterfalls, and some of less, OK no, interest – going for a dip by the rivers and waterfalls. It was billed as a “small group” tour, and turned out to be 17 people on a small bus

on a tour led by Emily.

The park was about a 90-minute drive, which included a coffee-and-loo stop

and travel through a countryside which showed some evidence of burning.

Much of the burning was intentional, programmatic and necessary, though there was some evidence of an incidental bush fire – nothing major, though, just some smoking undergrowth.

The indigenous people have developed a detailed understanding of the “right way” to go about burning the bush. Although not nomadic, they would move between seasonal locations, gathering food according to the location, weather and climate. Having harvested, they would burn the area before moving on; so when they returned later on, there was fresh growth breaking through to be harvested again. The controlled burning also removed much of the flammable detritus in the undergrowth so that lightning strike-induced fires were less likely to burn out of control.

On the topic of the indigenous peoples, one of the learnings for me of this trip is of the highly variegated nature of the indigenous cultural geography. Emily told us about the various indigenous peoples whose land we were travelling through, mentioning that the Australian land mass was actually split into some 250 countries, each with its own indigenous people. There’s a very good interactive map, which gives more details, but here’s the overview.

After a while, Emily swung off the road and parked up for our view of the two sorts of termite mounds on display. Termites split broadly into two types – wood-eating and grass-eating – and the first evidence we saw was of the work of grass-eating termites, and plenty of them, too.

If you view from an angle, you can see that each mound is actually a blade-like construction

and each blade is aligned north-south along Earth’s magnetic field. Hence, the termites are called Magnetic Termites.  In mounds built this way the termites receive the warmth of the sun on their eastern and western sides in the morning and evening while exposing less surface to the sun at midday when the nest might overheat.

Each mound belongs to a single queen, who pumps out eggs for several years; while she does this, worker termites are maintaining and growing each mound, the building work being visible as spikes of new material at the top.

When the queen dies, then that’s the end of the colony in that mound; vacated mounds can be distinguished by their lack of spikes.

Eventually, the mounds simply collapse and all the nutrients in their construction are returned to the earth.  What causes the collapse?  Mainly rain.  In the wet season, the fields which look so dry in the photos above can be covered in water, and it’s this which undermines the decaying mounds.

As well as the Magnetic Termite mounds, there were some of the more conventional style of mound, called cathedral mounds.  We had seen plenty of these as we drove along, but there were a couple of monsters at the site where we’d stopped.

Here’s the same thing, with people for scale.

Following the termite mound viewings were visits to three water features.  The first was the Florence Falls

which can be seen from a convenient viewpoint, and then visited by going down some 135 steps

and past the odd occasional sylvan scene.

I had formed a sort of half-hope that I might be able to take a photo of the falls without too many people in it, but it was clear, as we arrived, that this would be unlikely.

Sure, I could take a photo of the falls

but the wider picture was all full of people.

It seems that Australians are incapable of passing by a scene like this without throwing themselves in, something which requires too much faffing about to be of any interest to me. But it was a hot day, and I suppose it’s a way of cooling off.

In the trees surrounding the falls there were flying foxes – fruit bats.

And Jane captured a photo which demonstrates very clearly why Pandanus is sometimes called “screw pine”.

The second water feature, Buley Rockholes, was less dramatic

but equally crowded.

 

The third, Wangi Falls, was probably the most photogenic.

The other entertainment for the day was a “crocodile cruise”, on the Adelaide River. Having seen some crocodiles as we cruised the Kimberley, I guess I was expecting a quiet half-hour pottering up and down the river spotting crocodiles.  On the other hand, as we approached our cruise, there were signs for “Jumping Croc Tours” and similar, so I began to wonder if we would see something a bit more dynamic. I half-remember a crocodile cruise in the USA, about 30 years ago, where we were treated to the sight of a largish croc called Elvis leaping out of the water to catch bait dangled for him.

Our cruise leader was a chap called Rex

who ran a small and slightly ramshackle operation, but who was friendly, quite well-organised and knowledgeable.  He spent a reasonable amount of time explaining that we were dealing with saltwater crocodiles (“salties”), which are large, voracious and very, very dangerous – so no limbs or extremities outside the boat, or even camera lenses, as these could be the target of an attack. He pointed out that crocodiles, like sharks, have been unchanged by evolution over millions of years – in other words they are as good at their job as they could be, and that job involves stealth, aggression and voraciousness. We noted that Rex was wearing a gun.

After the preliminaries, we went off on to his boat –

– the smallest on the river, apparently, but still well-guarded with bars and solid steel mesh, only slightly bent, he told us, in encounters with salties  – and set off, with Rex telling us about the life of crocodiles on the Adelaide River.

Salties are very different from fresh water crocodiles (called, logically enough, “freshies”) – larger, much more aggressive and highly territorial.  We started off in the territorial waters of a large male called Sneaky.  Whilst we waited for him, there was the opportunity of capturing a couple of shots of local bird life.

It seemed the parrots weren’t too afraid of the hawk, though.

Rex attracted Sneaky to the boat using chunks of chicken dangled off a pole. A long pole. When he turned up, it was quite disconcerting to see how big he was and how evil he looked.

He was called Sneaky for a reason – he actually managed to snaffle the first piece of chicken whilst it was still underwater, but eventually Rex was able to get him to jump and take the bait. It was so swift and dramatic, that it was impossible adequately to capture by photo or video – for one chicken nugget he jumped so high that his head was higher than the roof of the boat; then he crashed against the side of the boat as he went down, which was really rather alarming.

Rex wasn’t just doing circus tricks; our time with him was quite educational as well as being disconcertingly dramatic. He introduced us to a female called Flicker, whom he also inveigled into taking bait, but he explained that she had to be cautious because Sneaky, the alpha male of the stretch of water, was still around.

We moved up the river into another male’s territory.  This one was called Gnasher. He’s a big bastard.

We also had a visit from a whole herd of Whistling Kites.

On the way back to his dock, Rex explained to us the import of territoriality. Any stretch will have an alpha male; alpha status is settled by fighting, if necessary to the death, and imposes a kind of order to the crocodile community. So when it was decided that there were too many crocodiles (for which, read: too many people killed in accidents) and it was decided to cull some of the alpha males, the result was actually carnage. Instead of making the river safer, it resulted in a whole series of fights as the remaining crocodiles established the new chomping order. It’s now reasonably accepted that culling is not a good idea, and the crocs are allowed to get on with life in their own way.

The crocs we saw today were much larger and more frightening than any others I had come across, and my respect for them has only increased.  It was an entertaining and educational hour or so we spent with Rex.

After that was just the journey back to the hotel and preparation for the morrow when, as I say, we embark on the next segment of our Australian trip. We will travel from Darwin to Adelaide; exactly how we go about this is something you’ll have to come back and read about another day.

Kimberley Day 6 – Swift Bay

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Sunday 18 August 2024 – Sorry, you’ve got Steve again, writing about my day, even though I wasn’t allowed out of the cabin. Jane went on the day’s expedition, but it was mainly about the rock art and she’ll talk about that in a minute.

I was able to take a few photos of passing interest from our veranda as the ship was at anchor. A large crocodile was clearly visible in the water quite near the ship.

A little context might help. Here’s how the croc looked, as Zodiacs headed for the shore. I put the red ring round it, as its cunning camouflage makes it difficult to spot; there wasn’t some kind of clever croc limiter in place.

I thought I saw a shark

but, a little disappointingly, it turned out to be some kind of dolphin.

The clincher, as any fule kno, was that the tail fins were horizontal (cetacean) rather than being vertical (fish).

There was a whale, too, not that that is a huge amount to write home about; if I’d missed it, I suppose I might have wanted to blubber. In fact, there were (at least) two – mother and calf, we suspect.

I marshalled the mighty capabilities of my Nice New Nikon to try to capture The Perfect Shot as the whale spouted, and took lots of stills as it did so during its cetacean equivalent of the paseo. I couldn’t decide which was the best, so here they all are.

That sequence is made from successive stills from the camera; I’m very impressed with its ability to make up for the shortcomings of its user.

I’m also impressed that the captain, having alerted us to the whale’s presence to port (I could see it from our cabin), stopped the boat and actually turned it around so that the starboard-based plague-ridden people could take a look.

From my point of view, that was the main excitement of the day so far; I’m expecting that the medics will check me out later. Until then, here’s Jane:

Today’s expedition was to view more rock art in the rock shelters formed by the heavily fractured sandstone making up Swift Bay.

A short walk brought us to a linked series of shelters formed by rock overhangs;

it is thought that the different shelters were used for different activities: cooking and eating; sleeping; and teaching the children. There was a fairly large midden of shells outside the gallery.

As we’ve established, it would not be respectful to share photos of the rock art, fascinating as it is, but the website of the Wunambal Gaambera people, title holders of this area of land, has a few words about, and a few images of, the Swift Bay site here which I feel comfortable sharing, since they have!

As well as the rock art, there was some striking rock stuff (as we’ve come to expect here in the Kimberley).

Medical update

Steve again: to misquote the bible, I’ve been (medically) weighed in the balance and found wanting (not sure whether this is Mene, Tekel or Upharsin [Tekel – Ed]). I still have a raised temperature, and so my isolation must continue. There were a couple of very frustrating aspects to this. Firstly, Lucille, the medical assistant who assessed me, told me that the criteria for release, all other vital signs being normal, include two successive days of normal body temperature. This being the case, I should just about be let out in time to disembark in Darwin, which is not a pleasing prospect, particularly as there’s one expedition I’m very keen to participate in. Secondly, I should have been taking paracetamol, as this might have lowered my temperature (I didn’t realise it was an anti-pyretic, actually). So, if I’d gone against my normal “medicate only if strictly necessary” approach, I might have been let out.  As it is, I face the bleak prospect of at least two more days stuck in the cabin. At least it’s a comfortable prison cell…

On the schedule tomorrow are two excursions within the engagingly-named Vansittart Bay. Excitingly, one of these does not involve rock art, so there may be a decent crop of photos for us to share.  Keep your eyes on these pages to find out, eh?

 

Kimberley Day 1 – Lacépède Islands

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Tuesday 13 August 2024 – Today was to be the first expedition from the ship, to cruise on Zodiacs around the Lacépède Islands. There were three activities in preparation for this, one of which was mandatory, and so all the passengers had to sign in to make sure that everyone had attended. The expedition leader, Dain, first introduced the rest of the expedition team, a very diverse set of people and relevant skills, but all with clear enthusiasm for the job of making sure we punters got the best out of the time spent off the boat.

The next bit was the mandatory bit, which was a lesson on how to get on and off the Zodiacs safely. This was familiar territory for us, since the procedures were pretty much exactly what we’d learned and observed when we were in Antarctica. That had been a well-organised setup and it was reassuring to note that APT, who were running this cruise, took it every bit as seriously.

The final part was information about the destination for today’s expedition – the Lacépède Islands. The name was conferred in 1801 by the French explorer Nicolas Baudin during his expedition around Australia, in honour of French naturalist Bernard Germain de Lacépède, who described several Australian fish species. He dubbed the three islands Napoleon, Grant and Victoria. Then (we were told) the Brits came along, and renamed them West, Middle and East. Whatever, the islands have been identified by Birdlife International as an Important Bird Area, and are now an A-class reserve managed by Western Australia’s Department of Environment and Conservation. Rats (introduced accidentally during the guano mining carried out on the Lacépèdes as well as numerous other islands off the western Australian coast during the 19th century) were eradicated in 1986, allowing the recolonisation of the islands by nesting seabirds, prime among which are Brown Boobies; the islands are home to 18,000 nesting pairs. They are also Western Australia’s most important breeding habitat for green sea turtles.

No confusion about what wildlife we might expect to see, then.

It wasn’t a long journey to get there, so the skipper took it nice and gently, even temporarily altering course in order to get a slightly closer look at some humpback whales which were cavorting not too far away.

We could even see the occasional breaching by humpbacks in the distance, and some tail-slapping, too. One of the naturalists also spotted a sea snake swimming by.

The Lacépède Islands are noted for the variety of bird life there, and so we had a lecture from one of the guides to help us identify the birds that we might be able to catch sight of on our Zodiac cruise. Then, after a swift bite of lunch, it was time to man the Zodiacs. Since there weren’t enough to accommodate all the punters at once, we had been split into four groups, denoted by different colours, in order to get everyone out on the water in an orderly fashion.

Jane and I are in yellow group, who went first; and Jane and I happened to be in the first Zodiac out.

It was not difficult to see the Brown Boobies. They are curious birds, and it wasn’t long before they spotted us and a delegation came out to welcome us and check us out.

They are adept fliers (their name comes from the Spanish “bobo”, meaning a clown or a clumsy person, because they’re not elegant at all on land) and so presented a few challenges to capture photos of them as they whizzed around us.  But the trusty Nikon was up to the job, I’m glad to say, despite the difficulties I faced of accurately aiming a heavy lens at a distant moving object whilst seated on a boat which is rocking unpredictably.

They are slightly odd-looking birds at the best of times; then they stare at you directly, at which point

you see their very scary dementor faces.

There were quite a few crowded colonies of the birds visible as we cruised past, but they tended to be on rocks, which meant it was difficult to pick them out against the background,

but occasionally we could get a decent angle to show them as they rested and nested.

Our ship, Le Laperouse, in the background

We even caught sight of a couple of chicks.

No problem to see Brown Boobies, then.  It was also quite easy to spot this salt-water crocodile,

which was something in the order of three metres long. Xander, our guide and Zodiac driver, was assiduous in making sure we were seated as we passed by; crocodiles can move very quickly indeed, and this one might have made for the Zodiac with the intention of causing trouble.  If Xander had then suddenly and swiftly accelerated swiftly away in response, anyone standing might have then fallen overboard, which would likely cause a lot of paperwork. So we remained seated until we were sure it was just chilling [thermo-regulating, actually – Ed].

The other key wildlife member was much more challenging even to see clearly, far less to photograph. There were many green sea turtles around, but they were not at all obliging when it came to be ready for their close-up.  The best one could expect was, if lucky, to catch a shot of a head popping out of the water as a turtle took a breath, but one had to be very lucky to catch it.

I was not one of the lucky ones.

The best I could do was to get an image of something vaguely turtle shaped under the surface.  I hope this video gives some idea of how a typical encounter with a turtle ran.

Our time was up and so we headed back to the ship so that someone else could have a go on our Zodiac and, via some nice chocolate accompaniment to afternoon tea, had a bit of a rest before the evening briefing.  Similar, again, to our Antarctic experience, Dain, the expedition leader, ran a session which added a bit of background to today’s expedition (Xander telling us more about the life cycle of the green sea turtle), followed by a briefing of what was due for the morrow. Various options were on offer, some involving scrambling over rocks and some not. We opted for the scrambling over rocks version, which I hope was not an error of judgement on our part.

After the briefing came the a drinks reception, at which the captain introduced the senior crew members,

followed by a Gala Dinner, which was probably, judging from the quality of the meals we’ve had so far on the cruise, a sumptuous feast.  However, neither Jane nor I had the stomach for stuffing ourselves, and so we opted to stay downstairs and have a light buffet supper. Our original plan, which was just to eat à deux, unravelled when sociability and good manners led us to invite another couple, who had also decided against the more formal option, to join us.  So Jane had an enjoyable conversation with the engaging husband, which I would have been delighted to be a part of were it not for his wife’s annoying inability to refrain from injecting her own distracting, and not very interesting, converse in my direction. Unfortunately, it wasn’t possible to engineer a decently swift escape without being ruder than even I might consider acceptable.

One of the guides hosted a star-gazing session on the roof of the boat, which sounded interesting, so we went along. Unfortunately, the moon, although only half full, was bright and clear, which buggers up the chance of seeing all the lovely stars, and so I lost interest quite swiftly. I did, however, learn that the Perseids, through which the Earth is currently ploughing, should give rise to shooting stars here in the southern hemisphere, so I might try my luck later on in the cruise to watch out for them on another evening.

Tomorrow is set to offer two excursions, one on Zodiacs to view a particular phenomenon at Montgomery Reef, and the other one on land, to stumble along the rocky path we have signed up for and see what may be seen.  Keep your eye on these pages to see exactly what is was that we ended up seeing.