Evening at the Billabong
Trip Start
Apr 19, 2008
1
28
42
Trip End
Nov 31, 2008
Sitting beside the still waters at Annaburroo Billabong I feel as though I've slipped into a David Attenborough documentary! The occupants of the only 2 other tents are absent, so the scene is devoid of other humans to disturb the wildlife. The sun is slowly sinking, though still quite fierce at 5.30 in the evening.
Two long-billed birds are stepping elegantly across the lily pads, through long water grass, and dipping for food amidst the reflections of clouds. The surface ripples now and again as a fish jumps, with a 'plop', and dragonflies are hovering a little higher in the air. Lizards of various stripes and sizes dart about the stones on which I'm perched, moving from swift movement to absolute stillness, as if in some reptilian game of musical statues. A stunning azure kingfisher lands on the branch of the tree just beside me and adds its voice to the phenomenal range of birdsong. I listen intently, trying to distinguish individual sounds but there are just too many blending into the rich chorus. Some of it emanates from the trees opposite, which appear to be in full bloom, but the white shapes filling the branches are, in fact, white cockatoos, as I realise when great flocks of them take flight across the water to the trees behind me. More feathered friends circle overhead, their great wingspans suspended in the breeze, while a few magpie geese and egrets gather on the opposite bank.
Gradually I make out movements along the shoreline and pick out six wallabies grazing, their grey-beige coats blending with the dust and dry grass, their shapes only becoming apparent as they bounce onwards. As the light fades and the bird calls calm, the shapes above me are now bats swooping low and I think they must signal the end of the show. But a little later, as I walk over to the toilet block, several tiny wallabies hop in and out of my path, and in the shower I meet a mother and baby toad, the wee one only as big as my thumb. While I lie sweating in the tent, I put the rustling in the grass down to more wallabies until I hear an odd snuffling sound and peer through the fly mesh to see, illuminated in the bright moonlight, two wild piglets exploring the car tyres with their snouts.
Camping may seem like roughing it, but you don't have encounters like these in a Hilton Hotel! I know which I prefer!
Two long-billed birds are stepping elegantly across the lily pads, through long water grass, and dipping for food amidst the reflections of clouds. The surface ripples now and again as a fish jumps, with a 'plop', and dragonflies are hovering a little higher in the air. Lizards of various stripes and sizes dart about the stones on which I'm perched, moving from swift movement to absolute stillness, as if in some reptilian game of musical statues. A stunning azure kingfisher lands on the branch of the tree just beside me and adds its voice to the phenomenal range of birdsong. I listen intently, trying to distinguish individual sounds but there are just too many blending into the rich chorus. Some of it emanates from the trees opposite, which appear to be in full bloom, but the white shapes filling the branches are, in fact, white cockatoos, as I realise when great flocks of them take flight across the water to the trees behind me. More feathered friends circle overhead, their great wingspans suspended in the breeze, while a few magpie geese and egrets gather on the opposite bank.
Gradually I make out movements along the shoreline and pick out six wallabies grazing, their grey-beige coats blending with the dust and dry grass, their shapes only becoming apparent as they bounce onwards. As the light fades and the bird calls calm, the shapes above me are now bats swooping low and I think they must signal the end of the show. But a little later, as I walk over to the toilet block, several tiny wallabies hop in and out of my path, and in the shower I meet a mother and baby toad, the wee one only as big as my thumb. While I lie sweating in the tent, I put the rustling in the grass down to more wallabies until I hear an odd snuffling sound and peer through the fly mesh to see, illuminated in the bright moonlight, two wild piglets exploring the car tyres with their snouts.
Camping may seem like roughing it, but you don't have encounters like these in a Hilton Hotel! I know which I prefer!

