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.   

  

     

Pungalina, Part 2...Chopper time!

Ghost bat!

  Before we left for the chopper survey, we had a bit more of a chance to have a look around the sites close to the homestead. We spent some time spelunking and exploring the incredible underground world that you could have easily got lost in. The cave was home to a couple of species of bats and we got to see a ghost bat up close and personal. The caves were very humid and had people literally dripping sweat in minutes so afterwards we headed for a place known as bubbling sands… we had heard many descriptions of the place, but couldn’t really get our heads around what is was exactly. Wow! It was beautiful, basically a warm aquarium, big enough for at least 10 people and full of fish! The water bubbles up out of the ground, through the sand, forming a large pool, before flowing into the river near the homestead.

Bubbling sands

  After these days of relaxation, it was time to start packing for the chopper trip.  Everything and everyone got weighed, as the amount of gear the chopper can carry is dependent on the distance and the amount of fuel needed. All the gear gets packed into massive bags that get hooked to a big rope and ‘carried’ by chopper to the campsite.  The site was about a 15-minute flight from the homestead and was stunning! 

Located on Pungalina creek, the spot was in a little gorge with a nice swimming hole, surrounded by spinifex and cliffs. But before we could really start to appreciate the beauty of the place, hard work was required.  While being flown into your camp is awesome, it means there are no vehicles to help you carry the trapping gear to the sites! You therefore have to earn your sites, and we thrashed ourselves putting in 5 sites the first day- not such a bad effort considering we didn’t start digging until after 10! We walked about a kilometer to each site, with our progress made slow by having to navigate through rocky creek beds, scree and sand dunes with armfuls of gear.

In the end, the effort was well worth the catch.  Rock rats, native mice, pygmy goannas, dragons, and other little skinks made it very successful.  Ethan and I were particularly lucky as we got two goannas one afternoon and another one the following morning at a different site!  Meanwhile we spotlighted for rock ringtail possums, went bird watching, hiked around, and swam when it got too hot.  Pack up day came around all to quick and we were headed back to the homestead to pack up all our gear and begin our long trip back to Wongalara.  All in all, what an amazing introduction to Pungalina-Seven Emu, and the secrets that the land holds.