THE MUSIC OF THE BUSH

[Xiang]

I originally wrote this little story for our local newsletter but I thought folks on here may appreciate it as well.

THE MUSIC OF THE BUSH​

When I was a kid I was thought to be a bit strange (some still think that). While I was a sociable kid I liked to get out into the bush whenever I could. This was easy as we lived on the edge of town and the bush was only a few hundred meters away.

I would sit quietly and watch and listen. Soon the bush creatures accepted me and continued to go about their daily lives. I watched and I listened. Soon I could imitate many bird calls and call them to me. As I grew up and moved away I never forgot the sights, sounds and scents of the bush and the myriad creatures that lived there.

Getting out in the bush and searching for gold became a passion in 1979. A passion my wife Cheryl soon shared with me. It also allowed me to become one with the bush again. Moving slowly and quietly through the bush as we looked for gold enabled us to observe and hear many wonderful things that others would never notice.

Sitting quietly around the campfire we would listen to the sleepy bird calls as they readied for the night and try to identify them. We had a bird book that we carried on every trip: Simpson and Day’s Field Guide to the birds of Australia. Listening to the bush is not just about birds though. On those very still, cold nights in winter you can hear the creatures that live in the trees, possums or koalas or even those tiny bats that live under the bark of trees. Even those diminutive nocturnal creatures that live under the scattered leaves and bark that cover the ground in the bush can be heard as the move about.

The vast Western Australia’s goldfields are one of the best places for observing nature. During the day it seems devoid of wildlife. Hardly a bird calls during the day but they are there, just too busy feeding to talk. And if you have never woken to be serenaded by a pair of butcher birds you have missed out on one of nature’s wonders. Lying warm in bed as the morning sky turns grey then pink and listening to the enchanting songs of a butcher bird has to be one of life’s most wonderful gifts.

We have mostly bush camped but you will see and hear similar wildlife in National Park campsites as long as they are not too crowded. Unfortunately it is the National Park camps where you may be subjected to more than the sounds of the bush. There are often those who wish to share their music with you whether you want it or not.

One evening we were sitting around our campfire just below a low escarpment in a remote valley in WA when we heard a sound. Looking up we saw four pairs of eyes reflected in the firelight looking down on us only a few meters away. It was a pair of dingoes who had brought their cubs along to visit. After a few minutes the adults moved away while the cubs continued to stare at the strange sight of a fire and two humans in the middle of their country. Then the adults called them away and we were alone. Later, in the morning they serenaded us again as they returned to their den.

So when next you are sitting around your campfire remember what I have said. The bush needs no rock and roll or even jazz the bush makes its own music and it is part of you and you are a part of it. Immerse yourself in its music and your appreciation of the bush will be greatly enhanced.







A far greater wordsmith than me, Banjo Patterson says it much better than I could.

THE SINGER OF THE BUSH​

There is a waving of the grass in the breeze

And a song in the air,

And a murmur of myriad bees

That toil everywhere.

There is scent in the blossom and bough,

And the breath of spring

Is as soft as a kiss on a brow –

And springtime I sing.

Banjo Patterson: The Singer of the Bush

 

[Solid Luck]

Very nice but you and Banjo forgot to mention the flies and mozzies

 

[Mackka]

Lovely words. My wife and I are fortunate, or not, to live next to a wildlife corridor on the outskirts of Brissie. So far we have counted 14 species of birdlife that come to visit on a regular basis, some daily. Like the 6 kookas, 20 odd maggies, blue faced honeyeaters and just after midnight the terrifying screams of the curlew. Butcher birds wake early and announce the start of the day. Yes I am truely blessed to be able to have these birds in my life each day. Mackka

 

[reefer]

Yep, I got that book...really handy both in the bush or here in suburbia..check out my work in the Poetry Section..short stories and poetry galore for the asking.lots of other poets as well.

 

[Dihusky]

Don't have Simpson and Day, but rely on the Readers Digest guide to Aussie Birds which I've had for more years than I want to remember. Sits in the sunroom with a pair of Binocs and is well thumbed.

We're also lucky to be on the edge of town and surrounded by nature and bird song, so easy to just sit, listen and observe. The birds here show no fear and will come very close.

When we started renovating, 3 Wrens came and visited inside the house, no panic just looked around, then one perched on a trolley and watched us until my wife told it: "We have work to do... you know where the door is" It then flew off to join the others. The first owners who built the place in '76 died here in sad circumstances, there were three of them, parents and one daughter.

 

[Mackka]

Do tell?

 

[Manpa]

The Michael Morcombe and David Stewart E Guide to Australian Birds is another good reference if you have a tablet or phone and what to download an app. It also plays recorded bird calls, allows you to electronically record your spotted birds by location or GPS coordinates etc, input notes. This is my go to when travelling.

 

[Dihusky]

Do tell?

First owners built the cottage in '76, lovely little place and they put a lot into the grounds, talking to the neighbours, it was a lovely place, always plenty happening. Daughter contracted MS so following her marriage breakup came to live and the back cottage was built in '96. She died very suddenly in the early 2000's, this shattered the father and he dies a couple of weeks later followed by his wife 2 weeks after that.

The place was stripped of value by the son in law, then rented to a couple who eventually bought it and basically trashed it. When we moved in on 1 Feb, the first thing we purchased was heavy rubber gloves before stripping the place.

The Wrens depend on your belief structure, but the place has some special energies that three people have mentioned to us, one in Mt Tamborine, one in Sydney and one local, they don't know each other and none have been here but all have told us uncannily similar stories. In essence, they all told us the main cottage sits on a Ley Line intersect.

 

[Jaros]

We had wrens in our yard when we bought it in 1994. All of the Unit dwellings being built do not help the nature at all. We are lucky to have a big family of Kookaburras in Mowbray Park near us and we wake up at 0400 now --usually 0600 in winter-a morning greeting and a dusk goodnight.

 

[Mackka]

Great and very sad story Dihusky. No wrens but we are woken every morning by 5-6 kookas and about 20 maggies wanting breakfast. Time varies but normally 6am and spot on 4pm in the arvo for the maggies and the kookas arrive about 5ish. Nothing says Australia more than the laughter of the kookaburras and the warbles of the Magpies, just a fantastic way to way up. Mackka

 

[Nightjar]

Apart from the daily visits from a pair of Pinkies (Rocko &Stella) a pair of Corellas (Whities) we have Honey Eaters & Wattle Birds however Samantha & Sammie have brought their chicks for brief visits before they, the chicks move on, over past two years. Believe it or not they are Seagulls.

 

[Manpa]

Not overly musical but for many years we when the kids were young we had two Pacific Black Ducks visit us for a feed nearly every day, so much so my son tempted them into the house one day. We affectionately called them Stuart and Doreen. To this day when the bride and I get away for a few days we swear Stuart and Doreen come too, everywhere we go we see a pair of ducks somewhere along our journey.
it always brings us a chuckle.

 

[Nightjar]

Apart from the daily visits from a pair of Pinkies (Rocko &Stella) a pair of Corellas (Whities) we have Honey Eaters & Wattle Birds however Samantha & Sammie have brought their chicks for brief visits before they, the chicks move on, over past two years. Believe it or not they are Seagulls.

View attachment 20220417_093529.mp4

 

[Xiang]

TASMANIA’S TIN DRAGON​

While the states of NSW, Vic, Qld, the NT and even WA had their failing economies saved by gold during the 1800s, Tasmania missed out. Tassie does have some gold but it was tin that saved that fledging states economy. Even today tin is a worthy metal. Current price of tin is $25,000 a ton and as it is a very heavy metal it doesn’t take much tin to make a ton.

Tin doesn’t seem very romantic as a saviour but it has a great many very important uses. For instance, the ubiquitous tin can, more accurately a tinned can, isn’t made from tin but steel. But steel rusts so a microscopic layer of tin over the steel prevents rust spoiling food or whatever the can may contain.

Some years ago we visited the tiny tin mining village of Derby in NE Tasmania. Now a major Mountain Biking resort, Derby is situated on the junction of the picturesque Ringarooma and Cascade Rivers amongst a beautiful Temperate Rainforest. The country around Derby is incredibly beautiful with many things to do and see within a short distance.

In Derby itself there is the old School-house Museum next door to the modern and fascinating Tin Dragon Interpretation Centre and Cafe where you can learn about the tin mining and the great flood that washed much of the town away when the dam above the town broke.

North-east Tasmania was recognised as the 'Tin Province', encompassing scores of small to medium mines. Following George Renison Bell's discovery in 1874, alluvial mining began along the Ringarooma River. The Briseis Mine at Derby was the biggest producer, followed by the Pioneer Mine on Bradshaws Creek. Today the mines are no more but there is much to do and see around the area.

A short drive to the West, near the town of Moorina the intriguing Trail of the Tin Dragon can be found. The walk takes you through wonderful temperate rainforest along some of the old water flumes and diggings that were dug by the Chinese miners who flocked to the area. It was here I based an article I wrote for the On the Road magazine called On the Trail of the Tin Dragon.

A few km to the East is the Weldborough Hotel, once the centre of tin mining it had a population of thousands, now it is a popular fossicking spot for sapphires. It was here the biggest sapphire found in Tasmania was found in the nearby Weld River.

Further to the east is the magnificent Blue Tier’s. These ranges sit high above the coast with views to the sea. The Blue Tier’s are a must visit spot for both the old tin workings and the magnificent scenery. But take some warm gear as this spot is above the snow line and even in summer can be extremely cold.

So if you are fortunate enough to visit Tasmania make it a point to visit magnificent NE Tasmania where you can explore the fascinating tin mining history and some of the most incredible scenery on the planet.

 

[Xiang]

View attachment 7373

Pinkies, Correllas are one of my favourite birds. They are the only birds who seem to fly just for the fun of flying. I call them the clowns of the sky for the way they seem so exuberant when flying and dashing all over the place.

 

[Xiang]

BIG ALF ​

Back in the 1960’s I was shearing in South West Queensland. One weekend we went to town. It was a big weekend; the local tennis championships were on, along with a host of other sporting events.

The town had a permanent population of only a few dozen people. Its one claim to fame was that Henry Lawson had once humped his bluey there from Burke. This weekend there were people by the hundred; the rare event had drawn people from hundreds of kilometres around. But the biggest crowd was outside the tennis courts where short white skirts flounced with vigour and each volley was applauded with more genuine enthusiasm than a Wimbledon Centre Court Final.

To watch over this boiling mass of excited humanity was the lone local copper, Big Alf. A big hat shaded a tanned face from where a pair of blue eyes gazed out at the world with an amused twinkle. It was said that Big Alf could ride any horse ever foaled, track any man born, and fight anyone in the State to a standstill. And for anyone who stepped outside Alf’s idea of a fair thing, he had a nice new jail, two cells that would accommodate the most recalcitrant troublemaker.

It was rumoured the pub had a wire running to the Coppers house. In the event of trouble the publican just wound a handle to summon Alf. One time two shearer’s decided to shed a bit of blood in the pub, the first blow had just landed when Alf arrived to stop the second. Knowing that men who work hard all day and lack the normal recreational opportunities of townies need to let off steam, he took the two outside and refereed the fight to the cheers of the crowd.

That evening there was a dance. I was a good dancer in those days and reckoned with a bit of luck I might even get to dance with one of the young ladies from the tennis courts. I had my eye on one in particular. All day I’d stayed away from the pub but as evening came I got involved with a group playing darts in the pub. By the time the dance began I was pretty happy.

At the dance I spotted the girl and headed her way. Unfortunately another bloke had the same idea and we collided right in front of the object of our desire. This bloke was a lowly station hand, and lacking in manners.

I was there first, I said, so I should have the first dance. Not so, he said and an argument erupted. After a few moments we looked around and the girl was gone. Now we both were mad. He accused me of spoiling his chances and I accused him of the same.

He was cocking his fist to throw a punch when Alf appeared like the Phantom out of the deep woods, grabbed his arm with one hand, grabbed me by the shoulder with the other then marched us outside. Outside the dance he invited us to have it out or shut up and behave. Station Hand opted to try and flatten me and I opted to sort him out.

To cut a short story short, we fought but neither would give in. At last Alf lost patience and dragged us both off to jail to cool down.

Depressed, I sat there listening to the distant sounds of revelry from the pub and sound of music from the dance. The band struck up a waltz and I imagined myself holding that girl in my arms swinging her around the floor in a wonderful romantic dance, but it was not to be. I resigned myself to being in that icebox of a cell all night.

Hours later, after the dance had finished, Alf returned with a couple of my mates to take me back to our quarters. He seemed mildly surprised we were still there. Grinning hugely he told us his nice shiny new jail wasn’t altogether finished, no locks had yet been fitted. We could have pushed the door open and walked out any time. At first I was as mad as a Mallee wether but then I looked at Alf and realised that even if I had known, I would have stayed put anyway. Alf was that kind of copper.

Big Alf, from my book of 24 humorous Short stories, The Day Of the Emu

​

 

[Grey Panner]

I originally wrote this little story for our local newsletter but I thought folks on here may appreciate it as well.

THE MUSIC OF THE BUSH​

When I was a kid I was thought to be a bit strange (some still think that). While I was a sociable kid I liked to get out into the bush whenever I could. This was easy as we lived on the edge of town and the bush was only a few hundred meters away.

I would sit quietly and watch and listen. Soon the bush creatures accepted me and continued to go about their daily lives. I watched and I listened. Soon I could imitate many bird calls and call them to me. As I grew up and moved away I never forgot the sights, sounds and scents of the bush and the myriad creatures that lived there.

Getting out in the bush and searching for gold became a passion in 1979. A passion my wife Cheryl soon shared with me. It also allowed me to become one with the bush again. Moving slowly and quietly through the bush as we looked for gold enabled us to observe and hear many wonderful things that others would never notice.

Sitting quietly around the campfire we would listen to the sleepy bird calls as they readied for the night and try to identify them. We had a bird book that we carried on every trip: Simpson and Day’s Field Guide to the birds of Australia. Listening to the bush is not just about birds though. On those very still, cold nights in winter you can hear the creatures that live in the trees, possums or koalas or even those tiny bats that live under the bark of trees. Even those diminutive nocturnal creatures that live under the scattered leaves and bark that cover the ground in the bush can be heard as the move about.

The vast Western Australia’s goldfields are one of the best places for observing nature. During the day it seems devoid of wildlife. Hardly a bird calls during the day but they are there, just too busy feeding to talk. And if you have never woken to be serenaded by a pair of butcher birds you have missed out on one of nature’s wonders. Lying warm in bed as the morning sky turns grey then pink and listening to the enchanting songs of a butcher bird has to be one of life’s most wonderful gifts.

We have mostly bush camped but you will see and hear similar wildlife in National Park campsites as long as they are not too crowded. Unfortunately it is the National Park camps where you may be subjected to more than the sounds of the bush. There are often those who wish to share their music with you whether you want it or not.

One evening we were sitting around our campfire just below a low escarpment in a remote valley in WA when we heard a sound. Looking up we saw four pairs of eyes reflected in the firelight looking down on us only a few meters away. It was a pair of dingoes who had brought their cubs along to visit. After a few minutes the adults moved away while the cubs continued to stare at the strange sight of a fire and two humans in the middle of their country. Then the adults called them away and we were alone. Later, in the morning they serenaded us again as they returned to their den.

So when next you are sitting around your campfire remember what I have said. The bush needs no rock and roll or even jazz the bush makes its own music and it is part of you and you are a part of it. Immerse yourself in its music and your appreciation of the bush will be greatly enhanced.







A far greater wordsmith than me, Banjo Patterson says it much better than I could.

THE SINGER OF THE BUSH​

There is a waving of the grass in the breeze

And a song in the air,

And a murmur of myriad bees

That toil everywhere.

There is scent in the blossom and bough,

And the breath of spring

Is as soft as a kiss on a brow –

And springtime I sing.

Banjo Patterson: The Singer of the Bush

It was while we were camped in the bush in Victoria that I realised that what seemed to be a single call from a Whip Bird was in fact calls by two birds, one calling and the other one answering.
I tried giving the first part of the call, the wind-up part of the whip crack. and every time I made the call a bird answered.
It was great to have an avian conversation with those birds even if I have no idea what the calls signified. I probably left behind a lot of very confused birds.

 

[user 4386]

TASMANIA’S TIN DRAGON​

While the states of NSW, Vic, Qld, the NT and even WA had their failing economies saved by gold during the 1800s, Tasmania missed out. Tassie does have some gold but it was tin that saved that fledging states economy. Even today tin is a worthy metal. Current price of tin is $25,000 a ton and as it is a very heavy metal it doesn’t take much tin to make a ton.

Tin doesn’t seem very romantic as a saviour but it has a great many very important uses. For instance, the ubiquitous tin can, more accurately a tinned can, isn’t made from tin but steel. But steel rusts so a microscopic layer of tin over the steel prevents rust spoiling food or whatever the can may contain.

Some years ago we visited the tiny tin mining village of Derby in NE Tasmania. Now a major Mountain Biking resort, Derby is situated on the junction of the picturesque Ringarooma and Cascade Rivers amongst a beautiful Temperate Rainforest. The country around Derby is incredibly beautiful with many things to do and see within a short distance.

In Derby itself there is the old School-house Museum next door to the modern and fascinating Tin Dragon Interpretation Centre and Cafe where you can learn about the tin mining and the great flood that washed much of the town away when the dam above the town broke.

North-east Tasmania was recognised as the 'Tin Province', encompassing scores of small to medium mines. Following George Renison Bell's discovery in 1874, alluvial mining began along the Ringarooma River. The Briseis Mine at Derby was the biggest producer, followed by the Pioneer Mine on Bradshaws Creek. Today the mines are no more but there is much to do and see around the area.

A short drive to the West, near the town of Moorina the intriguing Trail of the Tin Dragon can be found. The walk takes you through wonderful temperate rainforest along some of the old water flumes and diggings that were dug by the Chinese miners who flocked to the area. It was here I based an article I wrote for the On the Road magazine called On the Trail of the Tin Dragon.

A few km to the East is the Weldborough Hotel, once the centre of tin mining it had a population of thousands, now it is a popular fossicking spot for sapphires. It was here the biggest sapphire found in Tasmania was found in the nearby Weld River.

Further to the east is the magnificent Blue Tier’s. These ranges sit high above the coast with views to the sea. The Blue Tier’s are a must visit spot for both the old tin workings and the magnificent scenery. But take some warm gear as this spot is above the snow line and even in summer can be extremely cold.

So if you are fortunate enough to visit Tasmania make it a point to visit magnificent NE Tasmania where you can explore the fascinating tin mining history and some of the most incredible scenery on the planet.

You did not mention western Tasmania but it was also very important for tin. This is where tin mining began in Tasmania at Mt Bischoff, then areas like Heemskirk (near Zeehan). The Renison mine is the most important tin producer in Australia at present, and historically one of the most important hard-rock tin mines in the world (I nearly started my career there in 1969 and it is still going!). It still has of the order of 424,000 tonnes of tin potential remaining, plus 92,000 tonnes of copper. Smaller mines are also being developed now, e.g. Mt Lindsay tungsten-tin mine.

The northeast is beautiful and has produced a lot of tin, but give me the rugged west coast any day (in summer). The museum in Zeehan has a spectacular collection of minerals on display - when I started studying there was still a School of Mines there.

 

[user 12139]

well I'm a bit lucky when it comes to birds around home.
We have resident wrens, thrushes, king parrots, rosella's, wattle birds, various honey eaters, kookaburras, king fishers, firetails, maggies, woodies.. I'm sure there's more. My bird whistling talents are pretty damn good, the honey eaters, thrushes & rosella's respond well

 

[mond]

I originally wrote this little story for our local newsletter but I thought folks on here may appreciate it as well.

THE MUSIC OF THE BUSH​

When I was a kid I was thought to be a bit strange (some still think that). While I was a sociable kid I liked to get out into the bush whenever I could. This was easy as we lived on the edge of town and the bush was only a few hundred meters away.

I would sit quietly and watch and listen. Soon the bush creatures accepted me and continued to go about their daily lives. I watched and I listened. Soon I could imitate many bird calls and call them to me. As I grew up and moved away I never forgot the sights, sounds and scents of the bush and the myriad creatures that lived there.

Getting out in the bush and searching for gold became a passion in 1979. A passion my wife Cheryl soon shared with me. It also allowed me to become one with the bush again. Moving slowly and quietly through the bush as we looked for gold enabled us to observe and hear many wonderful things that others would never notice.

Sitting quietly around the campfire we would listen to the sleepy bird calls as they readied for the night and try to identify them. We had a bird book that we carried on every trip: Simpson and Day’s Field Guide to the birds of Australia. Listening to the bush is not just about birds though. On those very still, cold nights in winter you can hear the creatures that live in the trees, possums or koalas or even those tiny bats that live under the bark of trees. Even those diminutive nocturnal creatures that live under the scattered leaves and bark that cover the ground in the bush can be heard as the move about.

The vast Western Australia’s goldfields are one of the best places for observing nature. During the day it seems devoid of wildlife. Hardly a bird calls during the day but they are there, just too busy feeding to talk. And if you have never woken to be serenaded by a pair of butcher birds you have missed out on one of nature’s wonders. Lying warm in bed as the morning sky turns grey then pink and listening to the enchanting songs of a butcher bird has to be one of life’s most wonderful gifts.

We have mostly bush camped but you will see and hear similar wildlife in National Park campsites as long as they are not too crowded. Unfortunately it is the National Park camps where you may be subjected to more than the sounds of the bush. There are often those who wish to share their music with you whether you want it or not.

One evening we were sitting around our campfire just below a low escarpment in a remote valley in WA when we heard a sound. Looking up we saw four pairs of eyes reflected in the firelight looking down on us only a few meters away. It was a pair of dingoes who had brought their cubs along to visit. After a few minutes the adults moved away while the cubs continued to stare at the strange sight of a fire and two humans in the middle of their country. Then the adults called them away and we were alone. Later, in the morning they serenaded us again as they returned to their den.

So when next you are sitting around your campfire remember what I have said. The bush needs no rock and roll or even jazz the bush makes its own music and it is part of you and you are a part of it. Immerse yourself in its music and your appreciation of the bush will be greatly enhanced.







A far greater wordsmith than me, Banjo Patterson says it much better than I could.

THE SINGER OF THE BUSH​

There is a waving of the grass in the breeze

And a song in the air,

And a murmur of myriad bees

That toil everywhere.

There is scent in the blossom and bough,

And the breath of spring

Is as soft as a kiss on a brow –

And springtime I sing.

Banjo Patterson: The Singer of the Bush

the love of silence so you can hear
mond