Cookies Returns!

   I know all of our loyal readers (probably in the single digits) out there are pining for some more tales of rat related adventure, but this latest tidbit comes from the other side of the coin—a cat related adventure.  I’m sure you all remember Cookies, our little Tabby cat who was the first (and so far last) cat trapped here.  We slapped a radio/GPS collar on him and set him free, fingers crossed that we’d be able to recover the damn thing and see what he’d been up to.  Once the rats were released the plan was to go find Cookies and get our collar back, thereby eliminating a potential threat to our furry little comrades.  We were never really sure how this might happen, if a helicopter might be involved, if we would hike out by ourselves and keel over from the heat, or if by some stroke of luck we could trap him again. 

   The skies opened up soon after the release, as the ‘monsoon trough’ of the wet season bore down upon Northern Australia.  Rains came, rivers rose, and the temperatures were surprisingly cool.  It was unclear whether or not a chopper might be here soon, since everything is so weather dependent these days.  Therefore, we took it upon ourselves to try to find Cookies as long as there was a suitable break in the weather.  The plan was to track him down after release, and this seemed like the best time to do it.  That, and the managers were leaving on holidays soon, meaning that we’d be here alone and wouldn’t have anyone to call should one of us indeed keel over.  It was settled.  We’d try to get his signal from where we caught him, hike into the bush, find him, and retrieve our collars.  This wasn’t going to be an easy task; cats don’t normally stay still if you’re trying to hunt them down.  Luckily we had 2 new recruits on board in the form of the managers’ dogs.  We’d always wondered about their tracking skills, as they seemed to sniff pretty well (see previous post) and were excited to track down anything that ran. 

Puj and Ginger, our noses and legs!

  We geared up for our trek; plenty of water, satellite phone, GPS, gun, etc.  One might think we were leaving for some sort of guerilla mission with the way we packed.  It was a grey day, and the humidity hung in the air long enough to soak you in less than an hour.  We set out from the trap location, Tegan with a dog and the tracking equipment and me with the gun.  We hiked for a few km’s into the bush, then followed a creek bed as we heard the signal getting stronger.  Hitting the base of the range, we climbed up to get a better read on his position, always aware that he might be in some canyon, causing the signal to bounce around everywhere.  The sun came out, the hills continued.  We crested another few hills, soaked with sweat and precipitation, the dogs lagging behind.  By now we’d come maybe 5km (about 3 miles).  The signal was getting stronger, and Tegan unleashed the pups to be able to track him.  Alas, Cookies was on to us.  He somehow eluded the dogs and his signal got faint again as we started to think that maybe we did need that helicopter after all.  We kept walking, down out of the hills and back into the valley another few km’s later.  Crossing a small river, the signal got stronger and off the dogs went, hot on the heels of our feline perpetrator.  I ran after, gun at the ready in case it went up a tree, and stopped short.  Silence.  I heard neither dog, cat, nor human, and was beginning to think that once again we’d been out witted.  This could be the last push before we decided to head home, 8km of hard walking under our belts and no results.  All of a sudden the silence was pierced by Tegan’s voice: ‘ETHAN!  WE GOT HIM!  COME HERE!  GOOD DOGS!!’.  I raced up a rise and found Tegan patting the dogs on the back, they had chased Cookies and had him pinned down, exhausted.  Sparing the details, he was dispatched humanely and our collar was retrieved triumphantly.  For those of you who don't know how capable they are as wild hunters, we found an entire adult frill-necked lizard in it's stomach (see pic).  These things are big and fast, but are no match for a cat out in the bush unfortunately.  I have to say, without the dogs we might still be looking for that thing too.  They had the eyes and noses that we didn’t have, as well as the speed, even after 8km of hiking.

Frilly for lunch?

    After a good deal of celebration between all 4 of us, we started on the long walk home.  Suddenly everything felt tired as the adrenaline of the chase began to wear off.  The rain started coming down, but we didn’t care.  It was as if our guerilla mission was a success, and we thwarted our enemies if only for a day or two.  The long hike back to the car was made a bit longer because the manager, who was going to give us a ride, had a teleconference that ran longer than expected.  As a result, we walked an extra 4-5km (nearly 3 miles) back to our ute and collapsed in the seats.  A much needed hot shower and cup of tea awaited, as well as the collar data that we spent so much time and effort to get.

   Without revealing too much due to intellectual property rights and all that, Cookies stayed in an area of about 10 sq. km. He traveled various places within his home range, and rarely seemed to cross the road.  Its relatively limited data, but it’s something considering no other cats have been collared here.  If only they were more cooperative with trapping.  In the end, we thank you Cookies for contributing to the science that is helping to figure out your species and what they mean to Australian landscapes and wildlife.    

The Rats Move Back in...Part 2

   The alarm sounded.  It was 4am.  I reached my hand across and hit my iPod, thinking that if somehow I just touched the thing it would take us back in time so I could go back to sleep.  This seemed like our 200^th day in a row waking at this time to check our rat traps, and we were getting a bit tired of the routine.  However, this was hopefully going to be our last morning, as we had almost filled our quota the previous day.  At 39, we were 1 rat short.  We sipped our tea as we drove out to the trap site, 15 minutes away, to the hopeful finding a closed trap that would mean we had to leave.

   We arrived at Mornington on the 28^th of December, and were slotted to stay a little less than a week in order to trap the 40 rats that were going to get flown across to Wongalara.  It was great to be back, visiting with everyone and being there again.  How hard could it be to trap 40 rats?  After all, in a trapping effort on the same site they caught 37 rats in one night.  We might be back to Wongalara by New Years.  Ha!  The rats had other ideas.

   Ten days later we were finally trapping our last rats.  Not that it was a bad thing, we got to visit and hang out with everyone longer than we expected, and were able to see some of the sights.  But we wanted to get home, back to our normal life.  The first few nights were slow, getting 1, 2, 3 rats at a time.  At this rate we were going to be there for a month before the total of 40 was reached.  We expanded the trapping effort, ourselves first putting out 50 traps, then 100, then nearly 200.  Nevermind the fact that other people were trapping as well, putting out nearly 100 traps in another location.  For all the effort our results were lacking, and we can’t really say why this was.  Might have been time of year, weather, the New Years holiday (maybe the rats were on vacation?), or maybe our bait didn’t smell good enough.  Come on, what creature CAN’T turn down vanilla or sesame scented peanut butter balls?  

   Lucky number 40 was caught in the 2^nd trap of the day, tucked into a nice tussock of grass.  We packed up the rest of the traps and made our way back to base, where the they were housed in their own luxury appointed box with access to plenty of food.  We even offered a turndown service, complete with fresh apple and sweet potato.  Tripadvisor would give us 5 stars.

Escapee!

   Some rats, however, were less than happy with their accommodation.  Instead of complaining to the concierge, they decided to chew things.  Being made of wood, the boxes were prone to this activity, and we awoke one morning to find an escapee.  He had chewed through ½ inch of wood in 2 nights, leaving a rat sized hole and no evidence of his whereabouts.  We put out some traps in the office, but then found a couple holes from old pipes that he may have used to escape.  Well done sir, you are the only one to escape from Alcatraz.

   The rats also had to be microchipped and radio collared, the chips allowing us to track individual progress each time we trapped, and the radio collars to track them and see what they’re up to.  Big brother indeed—the NSA would be proud.  But just think about radio collaring a live rat for a second.  Yep, it’s a struggle sometimes.  Not too tight, not too loose, make sure their front feet aren’t caught in it.  Oops, it’s running across the office floor.  The first morning of processing was a bloodbath, with Tegan nearly losing a finger to an especially bitey rat.  Okay, that’s an exaggeration, but she was a bit sore the next day.  Eventually they were all good to go, sporting tiny radio collars and the emotional scars of an alien abduction.

   We were flown out early the last morning in order to pick up the ute, make the 8 hour drive to Wongalara and get ready for the translocation.  The rats were scheduled to be flown in the following afternoon, in time to release them that night.  They arrived to a welcoming crew at the new Wongalara airstrip and we quickly transported the rats back to our house to be checked and prepped for the release.

   That night, we made our way to the enclosures and released the rats, letting each find their way out of the box and into the wide world.  Some sprinted out, happy to be done with the box, while others cautiously made their way through the bush, investigating every new object. It was cool to see them leave, a culmination of lots of hard work from many people, with more to come. This phase of the project is really looking at how the active management of cats (trapping, shooting, etc.) can help the rats sustain a population.  The theory is that with enough time to breed and build up numbers, they can absorb a few fatalities with minimal impact to the overall population.  That means we have to be hyper-vigilant in our efforts to trap Schnookems, the ever-present black cat, and her cronies.  More stories on that front are to come, with a reappearance by our old friend Cookies the cat! 

   So there you have it, the story of our New Years (we didn’t make it to midnight since we had to wake up so early) and rat translocation.  Here’s to a great 2014 for everyone reading the blog, and continued stories from our time out here in the bush. 

The Rats Move Back in...Part 1

   The end of 2013 and start of 2014 did not involve your standard celebrations.  Following a whirlwind holiday trip to South Australia, meeting and seeing almost everyone in Tegan’s family that I’d only ever heard about, we were bound for Mornington Sanctuary in the West Kimberley. We like to call Mornington the ‘flagship’ AWC property, with an incredible landscape filled with ranges, gorges, and plenty of wildlife. This is where a majority of the Northern Australia science staff is based, and also home to a tourist area that allows campers in for the dry season.  When the place is in gear, you can get a big crowd of scientists, tourists, and associated support staff, making it a sizeable community in the middle of nowhere.  However, being the wet season, there were only the permanent staff on hand, including many that we’d worked with in previous years.  We were looking forward to the time to catch up with friends not seen in a few years, and eager to start on the next phase of the rat project.

Almost 10 hours, Google Maps? Really?

   After flying into Darwin from Adelaide we were to drive to Kununnurra the next day, a good 9 hours southwest and across the Western Australia border (more on that experience to come).  Kununnurra was going to be the meeting place for our ride into Mornington aboard a small passenger plane, since the roads were flooded or too muddy to drive.  We checked into our hotel in Darwin and collapsed on the bed, aware that the next day was going to be a big one.

However, there was some confusion and last minute travel changes that involved us needing to be in Kununnurra by 11am the next day.  We found this out about 6 minutes after putting our bags down at the hotel.  We were faced with a choice: drive 3 hours to Katherine, then continue the rest of the way the next day, or wake up at the ridiculous hour of 2am and make the trip in one shot.  Already tired from travelling most of the previous 7-10 days, we decided to catch a bit of sleep and speed to Kununnurra starting at 2am the next day.  We grabbed some dinner, bought enough food for a week at Mornington, and went to bed.

   The alarm woke us up at the ridiculous time of 1:45am, and we grudgingly got ready to leave.  The previous night we had swapped our holiday and town clothes with work rags, leaving piles of Christmas presents and random goods in the back seat of the ute.  If anyone broke in while we were gone they would be able to find a new wardrobe, shoes, camera, wine, and food.  This thing was getting locked up.

   We departed from Darwin at around 2am, and I drove the first leg to Katherine. I was surprisingly awake, the adrenaline coursing through my veins, as every object on the road could be a cow or kangaroo. Or a cowgaroo, something that only haunts your nightmares, or my sleep deprived hallucinations. We made it to Katherine in record time thanks to the 130km speed limit (80mph). Did we exceed that sometimes?  Perhaps.

   As Tegan took over driving, we headed west while I slept. Daylight crept in behind the clouds as the sun rose and we got closer to Kununnurra. We swapped drivers again and Tegan slept some more, allowing me to be lost in my own thoughts. About 300km from our destination I suddenly realized we had overlooked a couple big details. 

   First, the Western Australia border crossing forbids any fruits or vegetables being transported from east to west. This is to stop the potential spread of pests or disease, since WA is a relatively pest/disease free growing area.  We had been through this before in the past, but had neglected to think of it this time around, and would have to part with all of our fresh produce we had already bought in Darwin. Maybe $50 worth would have to be disposed of or eaten on the spot, and we really didn’t want to eat half a cabbage at 8am. Life lesson learned I guess.

   Second, there is a time change of 1 ½ hours between the Northern Territory and WA. You go back in time as you head west, meaning we didn’t really have to leave at 2am, we could’ve left 1 ½ hours later and arrived on time.  Oh how our sleep-deprived minds let us down this time.

   Despite these blunders we got to Kununnurra in plenty of time (surprise!), covering the 850km in about 7 hours (anyone looking for a NASCAR driver?). It ended up working in our favor, as we were able to buy our fresh goods again and have a real breakfast without having to rush around before getting picked up. We dropped off our ute at a previously arranged location and caught a cab to the airport to wait for our plane, packed to the rim with food for us, for the rats, and other gear.

   After waiting for a little while in an office near the tarmac we saw a little Cessna land and make its way down the runway—our ride.  The flight into Mornington was pretty spectacular, everything green and the rivers and waterfalls flowing.  If anyone ever decides to travel in Australia, do the east coast thing, but go to the Kimberley if you want some real scenery.  I dozed in the back as Tegan had the front, and the vast landscape unfolded beneath us….