Day 499 | Wilpena: plentiful wildlife around

rest day

After yesterday’s wanderings it seems sensible to have one more relaxing day in this well appointed National Park.

There’s permanent water in the gorge, draining the oval saucer shaped Pound and there’s the opportunity to take in some wildlife other than what has dominated to date: a couple of score feral goats and twice as many rabbits.

First up there’s a slow moving reptile, the Shingleback, those elongated pinecone simulacra down in the creek bed. They look an unlikely predator due to their lackadaisical gait, moving in slow motion with their plump bodies contorted from side to side to assist the tiny legs move them forward, bellies scraping along the ground, but the generosity of the midriff, like many of the tourists walking past, oblivious, hints that there’s plenty of grub to be sourced around here and not much in the way of predation now that the introduced foxes have all but been locally wiped out due to yearly poisoning regime.

The bird life is rich, there’s the obvious crows, mynas, and magpies with the first group of drab but likeable Apostlebirds I’ve seen in a while, huddling together, falling over their own feet, gregariously waging a territorial war with the magpies, like Syria it’s uncertain who’s winning, the pure aggression of the magpies versus the numbers and persistence of the Apostlebirds.

But prime ornithological observation for me is the discovery of groups of emu chicks around, for some obscure reason, perhaps more enlightened than the human species chick rearing is primarily, almost completely by the male, no maintenance payment in lieu with this large bird, one wonders where the females have absconded off to unencumbered by any maternal instinct.

But the male emus make as much of a hash of their job as humanity, although it must be said that at barely a day old keeping those gorgeously striped chicks as a flock is as hopeless as that typical herd of cats, my cautious appearance has them scurrying in all directions, six in this case, then running further from the deep thrump of the male call to order.

Come to think of it not dissimilar to our own family’s scattering-to-the-four-winds style congregation of our youth.