Underfoot

The tourists are milling about the Mountain lookouts, taking snapshots and selfies of the sun-drenched ranges, but there is a long and winding road that leads to an entirely different view of the Blue Mountains. 

It is a route that requires carefull negotiation - in its upper reaches the kangaroos can take unwary speedsters by surprise, while, closer to the destination, the tight corners and steep grades demand patience and caution.

Eventually, the road brings you to a grand demonstration of the impact that water can have upon a landscape.....

....as well as the benefits humans can extract from that water and its surroundings.

The history of this place is a long and complex one - stretching through geological eons, along the ancient story lines and culture of the Gundungurra and Wiradjuri people, into a 21st century whose speleologists are still finding deeper tunnels and watercourses, far from the light of day.

Jenolan is possibly the best known cave complex in Australia, though far from the only one.  The caves open to the public are only a fraction of those known to the explorers and scientists, but many of the others would require a very strong personality, and skinny hips and ribs, on the part of any would be tourist.

 The forces that have carved, sculpted, and constructed the strange beauty in these caves are a complex mix of organic and inorganic chemistry, along with occasional bouts of the brute force that flood water can apply.

When you have finished underground, the views to be seen on the way back to the carpark are also wonderful......

 .....just kidding - there is a bus that will take you to the carpark at the other end of those stairs.  I kept looking, by the way, but saw no sign of orcs or dwarves, though you might wonder what those noises were, when the guide turned out all the lights, and darkness absolute surrounded you.

When the Landlords Come Calling

Along with Drop Bears, deadly spiders, poisonous snakes, and sharks that queue up for their turn to eat surfers, one of the most internationally known and feared denizens of the plethora of lethal Aussie wildlife is the magpie.  Aussies as well as tourists are brought up on a diet of stories that paint magpies, like snakes, as aggressive beasts that are waiting for any opportunity to attack.

Take my own example, in the picture below, of what can happen if the hapless Aussie homeowner makes the mistake of leaving the screen door open for even a few seconds......

Well, in truth, it is an instance of just how intelligent these birds are.  Though they try very hard to seem fearsome when defending their nestlings for a few months each year (and yes, injuries have happened, eyes damaged, blood drawn) for the most part they are, if spoken to the right way, friendly, happy birds who get along well with humans - albeit on their own terms.  They had seen me outside, had spoken to me, and I had spoken back.  When I came inside to find some food for them, they followed.  When I pointed out the door and told them to go outside, they did.  Do they speak English?  I doubt it - but they seem to read intent from tone of voice, body language, and gesture, just as cats and dogs seem to do.

As for ferocity - I have seen them chased off the veranda rail by a brown cuckoo dove who felt he had more right to be there, and have watched them playing tag with toddler grandchildren.  The magpies in the picture are part of a family that we refer to as our landlords.  Our house is one of several within their territory.

They regularly fly down to our front door and sing to us until offered a little bit of minced meat - our rent, so to speak.  From their vantage point at the kitchen window they can see where the mince is kept - in the refrigerator - and as soon as we go to the frig to get it out, they become excited, and shift their position to the front door.  If we are too slow to respond, they will fly to other windows, looking in, and sometimes gently tapping on the glass.

Magpies can remember individual human faces for years, and will learn new songs from humans who still retain the skill of whistling.  I have found them, during the warmer parts of the day, sitting in a shady spot, practicing not only their regular, beautiful carolling, but also the songs of other birds from around the neighbourhood.

As well as the magpies, there are doves, rosellas, wattle birds, kookaburras, butcher birds, currawongs, king parrots, honey-eaters, ducks, and a swirl of other little birds, that all come, at some time or another, to sit on our veranda rail, or fossick through our gardens in pursuit of sustenance and shelter.

They are not pets - we don't own them.  If anything, they own us - a part of us, at least, that would be less without their company.  They seem to grow used to our presence, and to be able to identify our normal patterns of behaviour.  The magpies, for example, long ago learned to follow me into the garden if I am carrying a fork or hoe.  They will stand only inches away from my boots, waiting to pounce on any worm or grub that my digging turns up.

The king parrots are another remarkable bird, and I suspect they have a memory and intelligence every bit as good as that of the magpies.  They, too, address their communications directly to whichever of us is present - looking us in the eye and using particular whistles and calls.

It is a source of great pleasure and joy to have the company of these creatures.  They come and go according to their own schedules and priorities, but they seem to know us as having our own place withing their territories.  We seem to have been classified as fellow inhabitants of the natural space they dwell in, instead of being regarded as predators.