Tackling the heat, ruminants, and insects for some fresh veggies...

   Ever since we found out we were staying here for the wet season, we decided to expand the vegetable growing business outside our back door and further into the actual veggie patch across the lawn.  We’ve had some herbs outside for most of our time here, but now it’s time to venture into something more serious.  Having stocked up on seeds we ordered from a company online, plus buying the few seedlings the hardware store had in Katherine, we are going to attempt to sustain a modest wet season garden.  What’s so hard about growing during the wet season?  Well, besides the obvious risk of the entire homestead being flooded, there are frequent strong storms, high heat and humidity, and punishing sun, not to mention the thousands of insects that go mad during such a time.  All that aside, we are starting with plenty of optimism.  So far, we’ve planted capsicum, cherry tomatoes, eggplants, corn, spring onions, rock melon (cantaloupe for those of you in America), and a few other bits and pieces.  Our cucumbers were growing quite well up until a few days ago, when a buffalo somehow found its way inside the house paddock and proceeded to eat every last leaf, in addition to destroying the kale and half the radishes.  I can only imagine his reaction when faced with such a delectable smorgasbord of salads.  My only hope is that because of his indulgence he got severe constipation. 
    The green house has also been turned into a veggie prison with daily walks to check for incursions of veggie munching critters. Luckily some of the native skinks patrol in our absence and assist in keeping the area fairly pest free.... at least we are sure there are more grasshoppers on the outside than inside. 

We’ve also erected some shade cloth across the big veggie patch, hoping to dampen the suns’ rays during the heat of the day when you think to yourself, ‘why do I live on the surface of the sun?’  

   We’ll be doing our best to keep the garden going, and provide updates as we go along.  Hopefully we’ll be able to share photos of the successful harvest when the time comes, or you’ll see pictures of everything flooded up to our waists.  Either way, it should make for an interesting read.      

Employees of the Month

   We don’t mean to brag, but we’re going to nominate ourselves for employees of the month of October.  During the reptile survey last month, we managed to confirm 2 new species for the sanctuary.  These weren’t your ordinary species either—they were iconic, sexy, charismatic individuals that inspire the awe factor that is associated with so much Australian wildlife.  We even made a special email announcement from the AWC head office, highlighting our discovery.  If that doesn’t scream ‘you guys are legends’, then I don’t know what does.

   The first species we found was stumbled upon while having a look around a remote part of the property.  Tegan’s mum was here for a visit, and we decided to go for a drive and find somewhere to stick out some camera traps and see what happened.  We were originally going to find a narrow pass known as Kelly’s Pass, a track bounded by small cliffs and rocks; a perfect haven for some more unique animals.  Instead, we ended up going to a completely different place (we found out about that wrong turn later).  Wallow Hill, as it’s known, was only ‘discovered’ last year when the manager flew over it in a chopper, saw some fine beasts below and decided to try and make a road for mustering.  It’s a small bluff with sheer cliff faces on one side, petering out to a low hill on the other.  Cruising along, we decided to stop and go for a walk and see what was around the cliffs, put 6 cameras out, and see what happens.  The cliffs made for a bit of a hike, especially in the hot weather (Sorry Kathy!), but we were able easily distribute the 6 cameras (plus some peanut butter bait) in about 400 square meters of area.  There were plenty of animal droppings around and Tegan guessed they belonged to some kind of rock wallaby, but nothing to conclude that we found something new.  At one point we even stumbled upon an echidna hiding out in a little rock crevice, a significant discovery in itself since they aren’t normally seen on Wongalara with any regularity.  The plan was to collect the cameras when our reptile volunteers were here, to give them a chance to see the sights and share in our potential discovery.  Sure enough, upon collecting the cameras we found not a few rock wallabies, but TONS of rock wallabies.  Short-eared rock wallabies, to be exact.  They’re relatively widespread but have not been found here at all, nor has there been many signs of their existence.  So despite being a fairly widespread species in Australia, it’s a significant discovery for the sanctuary.  Plus, according to Tegan, they’re just too damn cute.  In addition to the rock wallabies, we got rock rats, another echidna, and a couple geckos.  They might have been the most successful cameras we’ve put out on Wongalara!

   The second in our run of cool animals came in large part due to the fact that one of our volunteers had done a lot of work with File Snakes (we found one a Pungalina, remember?).  She thought there would be a good chance of finding some out the back of the homestead, in the river where we get our water.  One night, we decided to brave the crocs and buffalo, and go have a look.  After about 20 minutes of spotlighting, finding plenty of crocs AND a couple buffalo, we were about to turn around and go home when something caught my eye near the riverbank.  I followed the movement from its origin in the weeds and saw the tail of a big File Snake floating in the water!  The only problem was, it was down a relatively steep embankment and there were plenty of croc eyes watching.  I was ready to look at it from a distance a go home with a win, but Tegan had other ideas when she arrived.  Nearly jumping into the water, she slid down the bank and just about couldn’t get back up.  I held her by the waist while one of the

volunteers held on to me.  She plucked the snake out of the water in no time, handed it to someone else, and after a momentary struggle to get back on to dry land emerged victorious and a little bit wet.  The excitement in the air was palpable, since we couldn’t actually catch one of the other species we recently found (risks: falling off cliffs, getting kicked in the guts).  Everybody got to hold the harmless little snake, and we all went to bed pleased with ourselves.

  So there you have it, yet another addition to the species inventory here at Wongalara, and all it took was a few cameras and an explorers spirit.  Who knows, maybe we’ll get something even better in the future.           

The Wet Season Slaps us in the Face.

The kitchen building, with lakes forming.

   In one of our previous entries, we detailed our weather woes in the time leading up to the real wet season.  It was hot, it was dry, and it was dusty.  The land was parched, and streambeds were so desolate that you didn’t know water had once flowed there.  Then it rained.  The showers started coming fairly regularly in mid-November, and we were getting a good amount nearly every day.  In the afternoon, the clouds would roll in and block out an otherwise scorching sun, the wind would pick up, and by 5pm there would be some rain.  If it wasn’t at the homestead, it was somewhere else on the property, but nonetheless, the rain and clouds cooled everything off to the point of being cold.  I’m not kidding, sometimes we wore long-sleeved shirts.  We even made beef stew one night to warm up.  Then it rained more, and more, and more, and then Darwin got hit by a cyclone; only the 4^th one in the month of November since records began.  Suddenly we were packing up our house and planning for a quick getaway should the river rise and flood us all out.  What did someone say about too much of a good thing?  We were checking the river everyday to see how far it had risen, and watching the radar like it was some kind of fortune-telling machine that would quickly decide our fates.  How serious was it?  Well, the managers left for a weekend and couldn’t get back in because some of the main access road was so water logged that they would’ve gotten stuck in the mud.  They had to be flown in by chopper, along with the groceries and other goods from town.  What started as a hot, dry month, ended up being the wet season announcing itself rather loudly (and quite impolitely at that).

The kitchen and front of our house, dry.

  In the end, we probably got somewhere between 200-400mm of rain in November (8-16 inches, depending on where you were on the property).  The unique thing about the terrain here is its impermeability.  There’s a lot of rock and clay-based soils, which require a nice gentle rain in order to get wet.  Instead, we were getting a lot of downpours, something typical of this time of year.  That means that in a lot of areas, when it rains, it gushes over the rocky hills, runs into the little creeks, and finds its way to the rivers in no time at all.  One of the bigger creeks that you cross on your way to the homestead was full and running in a couple days after being dry since May. 

Along the back of our house, dry.

Along the back of our house, wet.

   In between the downpours and frantic packing of our possessions, we managed to get out and swim in the now-flowing waterholes, and observe the vast changes that take place here when you just add water.  Trees turned the brightest shade of green, grasses that you thought were brown tufts of nothing quickly sprouted green shoots, and the frogs began a chorus that would make the three tenors sound like three drunk college students shouting ‘Livin’ on a Prayer’.  It really is quite something to see such a change in the land and animals. 
   Since the November rains, things have started to dry up a little around here.  We haven’t gotten much rain in the past couple weeks, and the weather has gone from ‘really hot but don’t worry there’s rain coming’ to ‘holy shit it’s so hot and there’s not a cloud in the sky’.  One day we’ll have to put a thermometer in the sun and post a picture of what we’re talking about.  Until then, we’ll keep watching the sky and hoping for a welcome shower, but not too much.    

  

FINALLY, the CAT part of our blog.

   After two and a half months of trapping, with most of that time spent getting up during the middle of the night to check the traps, we are happy to report that we have indeed caught one of the elusive felines.  While it was not Schnookems the black cat, it will certainly do for now, since ANY cat will suffice.  In fact, we’re supposed to catch 4 cats, so this is just the ice breaker.  Hopefully we’ll have a better success rate as the late dry season progresses and the cats start searching over greater distances for food.  The heat and lack of rain may be in our favor now, as the kitties start roaming.  Anyway, back to the subject at hand, and the resulting story of how we caught our new feline friend, named Cookies.

   It was early, just about 6am, and Tegan and I were driving to the closest enclosure to check our rat traps.  We’ve been conducting rat trapping this week in order to see how the rats are doing and get some baseline data before the next group of rats gets translocated.  We were both a bit groggy of course, and as we checked our traps the inevitable ‘did you get anything?’ became just a dull grunt, followed by a shake of the head.  I was driving, and pulled up to a set of traps we had only set up the day before.  Tegan got out to go close the traps and I sat there, staring through the windshield and thinking about sleep, rat trapping, and fantasy football.  All of a sudden, something caught my eye.  I turned and saw Tegan about 10 meters away from the ute, jumping up and down and trying to get my attention.  I managed to roll down the window and shout ‘DID WE?!’ at the same time she yelled ‘WE GOT A CAT!!!’.  I bolted out of the ute as Tegan came running up to grab our kit; welders gloves, a large canvas bag, and a cage trap.  The idea is simple: pin the cat, free its leg, put it in the bag, and stuff the bag into the cage. 

   A small male tabby cat stared at us as we approached, and it was only when we started celebrating that he began to struggle. We quickly pinned him as he flailed around, biting and scratching Tegan a little bit (she’ll live).  It was all over in a few minutes as Tegan was able to free his leg while I held him, and then get him into the bag and securely in our possession.  I have to say that we definitely nailed the release and capture, the little fella never suffered and he was dealt with quickly and easily. 

   Adrenaline pumping through our veins, we high fived, chest bumped, and celebrated as much as we could before checking our rat traps.  Tegan had a little blood, but it was nothing that couldn’t be dealt with.  Other than that, we came away with most of our skin intact. We tossed around name ideas as we checked our rat traps, and decided on Cookies.  Not really sure why or how we came to that, but there you go. However, all naming activities aside, the fun parts were yet to come, which included the dreaded collaring. 

   After we got home, we readied everything for the collaring process. This included turning the collar on and programming the GPS portion, which Tegan did in no time at all. We stored Cookies in the air conditioning in our bedroom to make sure he was comfortable while we fiddled around with our supplies.  We needed a fur clip from him for another study, his weight (about 4.3kg…a small kitty), and then we were going to put the collar on. The fur clip was easy, as Tegan pinned him inside the bag and we just exposed his backside in order to snip a bit of hair into a plastic bag. The collar was another story, but getting it on was accomplished surprisingly easily.  I held the head and rear end, keeping him firmly within the bag (the darkness helps to calm animals).  Meanwhile, Tegan snuck the collar around his neck and fitted it properly. All this hype about collaring and in the end it took about 10 minutes.  Little Cookies got a pat for that one—he behaved very nicely. 

   With our poking and prodding out of the way, we decided to release him straight away to avoid anymore unnecessary stress. Making sure the collar was working first, we took him back to the trap site and opened the bag.  He didn’t really move for about 5 minutes, instead choosing to bury his head in the bag and be difficult.  But after exposing his head he looked around for another couple minutes, first glaring at each of us with a look of unbounded contempt.  You could see his mind working, calculating, planning his escape. In the end, he sprung from the bag and ran off into the bush. 

Hate in his eyes...

   We will concede that we were given some helpful advice last month from Gavin (my sister’s cat) and had to wait until after the reptile survey to put it into practice. Gavin had suggested crumpled up paper, catnip toys, and smoked salmon.  With our local shopping center not stocking anything resembling catnip, we decided to give smoked salmon a try. At over 60 dollars a kilo, it is expensive bait. Only the best for our cats!  But after congratulating ourselves on actually remembering to take the salmon while setting traps, we started to regret the idea as it began to cook in the sun, coat our fingers and make the whole car smell of smoked fish! We skillfully dangled bits of stinky fish in our bowers, up above to lure the cats in, while keeping it away from the ants.  I’m not saying that this was the reason Cookies was trapped, but it definitely could’ve been. I must thank Gavin for his advice, any more will be greatly appreciated.

   There you have it, Cookies the cat.  He’s been radio tracked in the past few days and is still alive, near the area where we caught him, so he’s not moving away just because someone crammed him in a bag.  With any luck, that’ll be the first of many! 

Here Comes the Wet Season

   As some of you may know, we recently found out that we were staying here until April.  Well, apparently that was the thought the whole time but we were never privy to such information.  Surprise!  Anyhow, miscommunications aside, the wet season here should be something to experience; the heat, the storms, the flooding.  Already it’s pretty damn hot here during the day, with temperatures getting above 40C (105F).  Luckily it’s more of a dry heat but that will certainly change, and you can already feel it.  With the onset of the wet season you have the months leading up to the real rainy times.  This is known as ‘the buildup’, for those of you who do not reside in the wet/dry tropics.  Basically, these are the months where you wish it would rain since the heat and humidity are enough to boil anyone’s brain.  A nice breeze is hard to come by because even those are hot.  Oh and a sure sign that the rains are coming… ANTS.  Our latest ant wars are making the earlier battles look like playground charades.

The flooded homestead a few years ago

   With our sweat glands getting a workout, we have started to plan for the coming rains.  Since the Wilton River is right near the homestead, it has been flooded before, and apparently our house is one of the first buildings that go under.  With no plans for a second story on the horizon, we’re planning to keep most of our gear on the top shelves of our one and only shelf, pack away our clothes in our big waterproof bin, and park Frank some ways away on higher ground (maybe even in Katherine).  If the river does get high enough that we need to evacuate, we’ll hopefully be ready to grab everything and go, unsure of when our house will be habitable next.  However, I don’t think the potential floods will be sudden, more like a gradual rise until we wake up one morning and our back door opens on to the river.  Which reminds me, we should really update our insurance.   

  We’re already nervously anticipating the first storms so we can watch the water rise with a mixture of panic and excitement.  At the moment, everything is so dry and dusty that it’s hard to think of the place getting wet anytime soon.  Each afternoon when we look to the sky, dark threatening clouds seem to be on the horizon, but seem to be raining everywhere but here. I feel like I’m doing the earth a favor if I pee outside.  Walking around in the bush is like stepping on an earth covered in tin foil since everything crackles with every step.  The rivers are getting lower and lower, every scrap of water is drying up as we speak, and the birds and other wildlife are clustering around whatever patches of wet ground they can find.  The number of wallabies that encroach on the homestead each night is staggering, but having the only green grass, and tasty vegetables around will make anyone come in for a taste (more on that later).

   But as we get ready for the apocalyptic storms that can occur here, we’re still expected to trap cats, and we may be getting more rats to look after.  That will be our wet season activity, if we can actually drive to the enclosures without getting 1) bogged or 2) drowned.  Chopper anyone?    

Frisky Felines

In the midst of our rat, reptile, and camera trapping work, we have recently been tasked with trying to trap and radio collar the cat that regularly visits one of our enclosures.  No big deal, we’ve got 12 leg-hold traps, some experience on how to accomplish the feat, and a whole heap of optimism stemming from the fact that the thing doesn’t seem to care about our presence and comes, like clockwork, every couple of weeks.  The process is relatively simple: set the traps, camouflage them, and check them every 4 hours through the night.  The 4-hour rule is part of the ethics agreement for a number of reasons; mainly to avoid pressure injuries and to minimise the amount of stress on the animal so they don’t attempt to free themselves from the traps...yes, not ideal.

   We were asked to start trapping the week before our trip to Piccaninny.  It’s now the 14^th of September and there isn’t any cat.  There isn’t even a sign of the cat.  There is much speculation surrounding its whereabouts; did it have kittens?  Has it gone AWOL because we come around the place 4 times a night?  Are we trying too hard?  Is the frozen cat pee we brought from Piccaninny (and left at a friend’s in Darwin, by the way, but they were kind enough to ship down to us) just not doing the trick?  What about sardines, cat food (wet and dry), and fish juice? And if anything, the FAP (as mentioned in previous posts) should be attracting it from afar!

Schnookems...

   The one night we came close was actually the very first night we set out the traps.  It was the second to last night of reptile trapping back in July, and the volunteers wanted to see the whole process.  We grudgingly set it all up for them, cracking jokes that this was an exercise in lost sleep rather than cat catching.  But we did our checks at 11pm, 3am, and first light (6am) and found (surprise!) nothing.  Come the next day, we checked our camera traps and found that the cat actually came through at 10pm!  Walked right by the traps!  It was our fault; we didn’t put them in the right place.  Our game plan was lacking because we really didn’t anticipate the thing coming through so soon.  However, we were excited.  Surely it was fine with us being there so often, undeterred by our scent hanging on every branch.  I remember my words: ‘this cat is as good as caught!’  I was jubilant, I was confident, I am now regretting ever having said that.  We arrived back from Piccaninny with a sense of purpose: we were going to catch that little black feline (affectionately named ‘Schnookems’ by the reptile trapping volunteers), and we were going to do it in record time.  Days came and went, our nights interrupted by alarms and groggily driving out to the enclosure.  Weeks came and went, and here we are.  It’s hard to say why the cat hasn’t come back, but it must have something to do with our nightly checks.  Driving there 4 times a night must be jarring for a creature that’s so habituated to our presence.  Then again, if it doesn’t care, it should be hanging around more often.  I don’t think a single cat has ever had more brain power expended on its behaviour, maybe except for my sisters cat, but that’s because he’s certifiably manic depressive, obsessive, and generally a weirdo (no offense intended Gavin, I rather like your weakness for crumpled up paper and cardboard boxes). 

Oh, did I mention the radio collaring part of this whole endeavour?  Allow me to explain.  Upon catching the cat, we are supposed to attach a radio collar around its neck.  Without anaesthesia.  Yeah, go ahead and try doing that to a pet cat, let alone a feral one bent on clawing your face into a new type of holiday decoration.  We’ve never done it, so we’re taking the appropriate precautions: welding gloves, a canvas bag, sunglasses, long sleeved shirts, pants, and a plan to use 3 people to hold the thing down.  Any volunteers?  I mean, that is to say if we ever do indeed catch this thing.  At some point we’ll need to regroup and come up with a new plan.  Proceeding like this is like banging our heads against a wall.  I’d almost rather do that—at least I might get a full night’s sleep.  However even with our confidence shattered, we press on, hoping that at some point little Schnookems will return to its familiar hunting grounds.  Keep your ears open because if we do catch it, you might hear the shouts.  Oh yeah, and the best part about this story…we are expected to catch 2-4 cats at EACH enclosure!!! BEFORE CHRISTMAS!  I have a feeling that that monumental task will be as successful as our other attempts... 

Piccaninny Plains: where BIG rats are awesome.

   Hello again everybody and welcome back to our blog.  The past few months have been nothing short of hectic, with little time to do anything but work and spend weeks out in the bush, far from the Internet.  But we’re back at Wongalara now, and things have slowed down.  No more surveys on the horizon (until October at least), and little to do except try and catch cats (more on that later), and do our camera trapping work.  Our trip up to Cape York was successful, exposing us to the different landscapes, animals, and the people that drive AWC.  Piccaninny Plains is located on the northern Cape York Peninsula in Queensland, about 700km north of Cairns by vehicle.  It’s a unique property, far different in habitat than the escarpments, rocky outcrops, and woodlands that make up much of the Northern Territory, including Wongalara.  Piccaninny is 170,000ha (420,000 acres) of relatively flat land, made up of a combination of woodland, rainforests, wetlands, and grasslands dotted with massive magnetic termite mounds.  This combination of habitats creates a haven for many different animal species (officially estimated at over 400 mammals, reptiles, and birds).  More information is available on the AWC website here.  We were more than happy to go there for the fauna survey, as it meant that we’d be able to potentially see a lot of things we’d never seen before, including the spotted cus cus, palm cockatoos, and many others. 

We drove to Darwin over a couple of days, then flew into Cairns at night and got picked up by one of the volunteers.  We set off on the 700km drive early the next morning, up and over the rainforest covered hills behind Cairns, and then through drier woodlands before winding through hills again.  It was quite the drive, but we finally made it in about 10 hours. 

   The whole reason why we were asked to travel east and help with the survey was because a supporter event was being run at the same time, and the ecology staff had to be involved with those activities instead of devoting all their time to the survey.  Tegan ran the survey for about a week, while I was happy to help with whatever I could (aka digging holes).  The survey team consisted of 7 of us at any one time, digging in sites and coordinating show and tell activities with the supporters when we caught something cool.  These supporter events are organized as follows; they fly in a group for 3 nights, wine and dine them, and show them some animals and the property.  It’s a very big deal, since these supporters are able to see what their donations have gone towards, and have the opportunity to experience ‘conservation in action’ (trapping, feral control, fencing, etc.).  Plus they get a 2-3 hour chopper tour of the whole place, which itself is pretty good.

   Since Piccaninny was acquired in 2008 by AWC, there had been no indication of the presence of a very rare creature, the black footed tree-rat, until they caught one last year.  This was a very big deal (to quote one of the ecologists after learning they caught one: “No f*#@ way!”), since they are poorly described in the literature and not much is known about their behaviour.  They’re far from ‘just a rat’, because they’re BIG, HUGE, live in trees, with grey fur, big ears, and a long black tail with a white tuft on the end (see photo).

The science team was hopeful for more this year, but didn’t want to make any promises as we were trapping in a different area to the year before. We didn’t disappoint, as we were able to catch not one, but TWO.  For such a big rat, you would expect a whole lot of attitude. But for a creature that only eats nuts, fruits and seeds, what is there really to get worked up about? Everyone was very pleased, and each time a rat was caught, it was excitedly couriered to the supporter event so everyone could have look. You’d never see so many people getting giddy about a big rat, but there you go. 

   For the whole of the survey we were camped along the Archer River, one of the major rivers that run through the Cape in a small patch of rainforest, sheltered by the big trees and some dense vegetation. We had spent a bit of time exploring at night and during the day to try and spot some of the elusive rainforest creatures. After talk of giant pythons and spotted cus cus in the camp in previous years, we were a little let down by only seeing crocodile eye shine and a giant white-lipped tree frog. One night after we went to bed, we heard a very strange noise above our tent. We spied a common spotted cus cus (see photo) in the tree barely 10 metres away, making very strange gagging noises and dropping things next to our tent.  Apparently it may have been some sort of mating call, or just serious indigestion…we never heard the sounds again!

Another one of the unique creatures that inhabits Piccaninny is the Palm Cockatoo, a very large black cockatoo with a massive crest on top and red patch under the eye (see photo).  The thing that sets them apart, aside from their size, is their very distinctive behaviour and calls.  They’ve been known to drum on trees with sticks, shred branches with their enormous sharp beak, rock back and forth, hang upside down, etc.  Their calls are ear piercing, and they’ll sometimes whistle back to you if you mimic them.  We got to see a few up close and heard plenty around the place, their calls echoing through the woodlands.

   As part of the program, the supporters get to go out and check some of the trapping sites with ecologists, so they can see exactly what we do and get to know how AWC’s fauna surveys operate.  In an unlikely turn of events one morning, a cat was caught in one of the cage traps at a site.  This is rare for 2 reasons: 1) cats rarely go for bait balls of peanut butter and oats, and 2) cats normally avoid cages.  Sometimes the stars do align.  At least the supporters got to see ‘the face of evil’, as they have been described, and the offending creature was dispatched back at our survey camp.  When we dissected its stomach contents, we found the remains of not only a bait ball, but a sugar glider as well. We then had the brilliant idea to take the pee from its bladder, as we needed it to conduct our own cat trapping at Wongalara (more on that exciting activity to come!).  Yes, we were going to take cat pee halfway across the country in a nicely labelled container.

   At one point, after forgetting our GPS in another vehicle, Tegan and I had to make an impromptu visit to the supporter camp about 30 minutes away.  We were both tired and hungry, wanting to have dinner and go to bed instead, but without that thing we were going to be lost the next day trying to find a new trapping site.  We sped off into the night, trying to make it there and back before it got too late.  About 1km from our destination I came around a corner and narrowly missed a big snake crossing the road. We switched into snake catching mode immediately (Tegan more than me, really), came to a screeching halt, and ran back to a) make sure it was okay and b) if it wasn’t dead, make sure it wasn’t a lethal species before catching it and bringing it to show the supporters.  Luckily it was very much alive and a harmless Brown Tree Snake (aka Night Tiger).  They can be bitey, but with proper restraint are quite easy to handle.  Tegan held the nearly 5 foot long snake as I drove on to the camp.  We were literally meters from parking at our destination when we spotted another snake on the road.  Tegan jumped out and caught that one too, handing me the other one so she could take this new one.  Luckily again, it turned out to be a cranky yet harmless Slaty Grey Snake.  A snake in each hand, we left the ute behind and ran up to one of the parked vehicles to look for some catch bags, threw the snakes in, and ran up to the camp.  What an entrance.  Little did we know they had caught a 6-7 foot long Black Headed Python on the road that afternoon, which made our 2 look like shoelaces, but more snakes are always good.  Needless to say we earned a couple beers, leftovers from dinner that night (barra, rice, vegetables, AND dessert!), and made a few kids very happy.  Mission accomplished, and we even picked up the GPS.

One of the lagoons around Piccaninny

   As the survey and supporter event wrapped up, Tegan and I were fortunate enough to participate in the festivities for a day.  This involved having dinner with the supporters, enjoying drinks at sunset, and leading a chopper tour of the property the next morning.  We had been anticipating/dreading the chopper tours before we even started; there were plenty of people who got sick on these things once the wind kicked up, and you DO NOT want to be the tour guide who loses it on board.  It was a little daunting, having never been to Piccaninny before, but we were well coached by the survey team members who had already done it. Most of the time, people are happy to sightsee and don’t necessarily care about the specifics of the surrounding landscape, like what species of bird just called or exactly what kind of tree we just zoomed by.  The chopper ended up being the best part, even if we did have to be the guide.  We were able to see almost the whole property, land in a couple rivers, and see some of the wildlife around the place.  You get a good sense of the scale of the property when you’re up in the air, when pretty much everything to the horizon is part of the same place.  It’s really the best way to see any AWC sanctuary, since most of the time they have few roads and a lot of the country is pretty inaccessible.

   Our last day at Piccaninny was spent packing up and getting ready to leave.  The last traps were pulled down, and the last group of supporters were leaving that morning. We were going back to Cairns on the same charter flight as the supporters, so we said our goodbyes and left that morning on a little Cessna, flying over the hills and greenery of northern Queensland.  We spent a night in Cairns before heading back to Darwin and Wongalara, to get back to reality.  Alas, the fun trapping and traveling times are over for now, we’ve got our own work to do.