A little bit Camp

What could be better than being woken early in the morning by the sun streaming into a steamy tent? A tent filled with the miasma of night time drinking by a log fire. Or the sound of native birds chirping, serenading, or in this particular country, screeching their joy at a new day?

Perhaps the knowledge that a day in the countryside stretched with possibility before me. There were many things out there to see, admire and file away in my memory.

In every country it would seem Mother Nature presents these wonders in different colour scapes, sometimes more subtle forms. Being used to the green, lushness of ferny, water filled New Zealand, it took me a wee bit of time to appreciate the different shadings of green found here in Australia. It is a place grown more muddy green than verdant. Every living tree form has struggled hard against the lack of water and the relentless sun. When I opened my eyes to this different type of beauty I was awed by the power play between the weather and the growing things.

Nature seems to struggle more obviously in this landscape. From Spring onwards, the ever present threat of bushfire looms very real in the background of every day. The people that live here, the creatures that dwell in this environment seem to have adapted to this with awesome positivity, breaking each week down to day to day pleasures. 

I felt small in my petty, previous judgement that the scenery was boringly brown and red.

Mountains to wander. Walking trails labelled with sandy red stone dust. Trees beseeching the sky. Blackened bushfire burnt limbs frame a desolate beauty unique.

The birds I adore swooping over our heads, flirting with maybe, possibly, landing near our awed expressions then… carrying on to perch just out reach of  focused photo frames.

We trudge along gritty paths and stop to pay tribute to this twisted limb or that spray of wild flower. The sun beats our hatted heads then turns away behind a thundery coloured cloud, letting in the swirling, bitterly cold wind. Ears frozen into submission yet smiles still plastered on faces rosy red with cold we carry on. Photographing the evidence of fiery destruction yet surrounded by a rock strewn paradise of tussock, spring flowers and small flitting fantail like birds.

This may be the country I know as the Dead Heart but I have come to realise it is also a country that lives hard. There is an appreciation for new life every day here. A tendril of growth on an otherwise shrivelled tree, a sprig of blue lily peeping from a dry and deadened tussock,  the joy of the nectar supping birds on freshly opened Spring time buds.

Thank you Grampians Paradise, we loved your three day escape route.

A Flaming Start to Fishing

He lurked and floated gracefully in a tiny tank on a $20 table.

Flame Boy was a beautiful Christmas present to a Hedge Monkey boy. I had been enchanted by Siamese Fighting Fish since I started at Pets Wonderland and had succumbed after a mere 8 days. 

It isn’t cruel to have them in a fashionably small, Zen patterned tank I thought.

We need some life in the swanky apartment I considered.

If I get a bigger tank it will mean committing more time and effort in a place where we are merely transients, I argued with myself.

Ahhh but it was only a matter of days before we had discussed this issue firmly, fastly and then decided. A new and much larger home was required, and now. Always the impatient one I whisked to work and came home lugging a pretty, rounded glass front tank with Flame Boys name stamped all over it.

I set it up with live plants, a Buddha to grin widely, some shiny flat stones and a green bamboo bridge. Warm water, the relevant drops of chemical designed to better his water and cycle his poo…and then, Flame was released.

He swam in a panic stricken state to the bottom and hid under his bridge. We sat and looked. We waved and smiled encouragingly at his worried looking expression. We watched and wondered and worried. Then slowly and carefully he emerged and plumped his fins just so. An offering of blood worms was accepted and our Cambodian fighter friend was off and exploring. He never looked back.

The way the Siamese Fighter males swim so effortlessly and in such stop, start motion is perfect beauty to me.  Their tail fins trail behind them like fronds of boa feathers in a delicate breeze and their expressions are often one of curiosity. Their watery home is explored to every inch and they seem to delight in tiny, gentle bubbles tickling their chins.

Splendid Rex our current Fighter, simply adores having a mass of Ambulia plant to rest in. The feathery ends float on the surface of his tank and we smile happily to watch him squiggle into the middle of this nest to sleep at night. Who could want for a down filled duvet when you can have such a buoyantly soft resting place?

He zooms out of this bed as soon as one of us emerges into the living room. Right to the front of the tank, madly waving his front fins in an exuberant greeting. A small, brilliantly blue with trims of red fish, his energy is boundless.

The way he passionately gobbles his food reminds me of a dog and his enthusiasm for our attention only strengthens this comparision.

I am often met with the disparaging comment at work “Siamese Fighters are boring”. I argue every time that they are merely bored.

If you insist on placing a living creature in an aesthetically pleasing yet tiny environment, how can it be any other way?

Give these gorgeous creatures the room to swim and explore, enrich their homes with living plant and hiding places and you will have a Fighter who is filled with interest. Interest in his home, his surroundings and his owners.

Thank you Flame Boy, Neraldi and Splendid Rex. You have taught me much about the enthrallment of Fighter keeping.

House of Pigs

Guinea Pigs love to be loved.

They seem to enjoy both the inside glamour of a roomy cage with an igloo placed just so for spying, or the grassy freedom of an outdoor hutch.

I hugely enjoy having Pinny Gigs inside the home. I can hear their busy chattering as they go about the important business of demolishing beloved greens or simply re-arranging their bedding to better snuggle into. They are more open to the human contact when I want a cuddle and it allows them to watch me when they think I am not looking. This is the Freeze Game. (refer previous blog Pinny Gig Loving for details) It is also very difficult to forget to spend time with squeaking, purring friends when I am greeted with excited “weeet” noises every time the sun shines into the room or they smell veggies a-coming!

For ease of cleaning and to keep small feet and bottoms fresh, I line their cage (big enough for sprinting, side skipping and climbing on houses) with a thick layer of newspaper. I then add liberal amounts of shredded paper and daily give them a generous handful of hay for serious munching and the necessary wearing down of constantly growing molars. The whole lot can be simply rolled up and put on the garden (vegetarian animals make for great plant growth) or on the compost, worm farm or just in the rubbish for apartment dwellers such as I. Meanwhile the piggies can fossick around the apartment or spend time relaxing in a willing humans lap. A fine way to make a job enjoyable!

For outside Guinea Pigs the theory of the bedding is the same. Fill the house part of the hutch in the same way  as for an inside cage and if you are very lucky your Pinny Gigs will toilet outside on the lawn. This means you only change the bedding once a week instead of every two to three days. I believe it is a great idea to make the house part smaller and warmer in Winter by adding an igloo or cardboard box and stuffing it tightly with hay or straw. This way your Cavy friends keep snug and chipper in the colder months. In windy areas a clear tarpaulin over the windswept side of the hutch will also be appreciated by your ear waggling friends.

For any country that has temperatures reaching 30 degrees or over it is vital to consider either a permanent indoor cage or plan to move your Guinea Pigs in every morning that the temperatures will rise. The air is just too hot and even with ice water and cooling greens they are very likely to die of the heat. It can be as simple as popping them into the empty laundry tub or a basic cardboard box for the day with water and food. They will not overly miss the running room and will be happily alive to meet you on your return home for the day.

Remember to regularly check your Guinea Pigs teeth for overgrowth. Offer them fruit tree branches, bark and all and this will help wear their teeth down naturally. They love peeking out from beneath the leaves at you and then chewing the trees down to nothing but twigs.  I also recommend monthly spraying with a Mite and Lice spray to prevent some pesky little travellers causing your friends to itch like mad.

For me there is nothing better, even with the extra cleaning and the midnight water bottle clicking, than having Guinea Pigs inside the home. The sounds of happy piggies rustling through paper and crunching on parsley sure can’t be beat.

Of Rats and Girls

Rats they say, Rats?!!      

They may be pointy nosed, long tailed and sharp toothed – but they sure make for fun times in your jumper!

My Rats have always loved nothing more than beetling around inside my clothes, smelling the smells of a day just spent or fossicking pockets and hoods for crumbs left on the last visit. I have made pinatas for them, an old sock stuffed with newspaper and scatterings of yoghurt raisins, carrot and nuts hung with string in the middle of their cage, this has kept them busy chewing through to deliciousness for hours.

I have thrown a tray of dirt and newly grown grass into the bottom of their cage and then watched them dig and biff the dirt all over in glee. My first Rat friend Nazair loved it when I hung an extra dish of water for him and his mate Rizzo, they spent many hours dipping, cleaning and swimming in it happily. Once I made them a slide from an old jeans leg, tying it to the top of the cage and running it to the bottom. Even shy, bumbling Rizzo clambered joyfully up and down and slithered bravely all over it.  A fun park in the middle of the city has not such excited visitors as these two Ratties on these easy-to-make playthings!

They shared many a beloved treat with me, carefully carrying in their mouths and placing it delicately into my lap with their dexterous, tiny hands. There is nothing more adorable about owning a rat than watching them clean their faces carefully and precisely after eating a juicy mandarin segment. I have made frozen treats to cool their smooth tongues -putting carrots, corn and peas into iceblock holders, freezing them and popping them into a dish in their cage in hot weather.

I have laughed until my eyes cried, watching my adventurous Nazair Rat chase my cats around the house in a lime green rolling Rat Ball – he went so fast that I almost missed the shocked expressions on the cats faces as they jumped on the couch to safety!

Often too lazy to leave their hammock bed to eat breakfast and sometimes negligent about where they leave their poo, my Rats were still one of the most loyal and consistently enthusiastic pets I have had the pleasure of owning. No matter what time of day or night I arrived home -even though they preferred the nocturnal hours – they would be grasping the cage bars like little, whiskery convicts pleading with me to let them come out and play.

They are so simple to own, clean, loyal and loving – the only thing negative I have to say is that sadly, their lives are short in relation to ours. A mere two to three years is all you will have with your rodent friends but those years will be filled with laughter and rat flavoured licks of love…

Pinny Gig Loving

It started when I was six, she cost 50c, was heavily pregnant and we called her Hope.

Fond childhood memories are of Guinea Pigs growing fat and sleek on bountiful grass, carrots and straw while fluffy white felines poked endlessly at them through the wire of the home-made hutch.

More recently my sister had three Guinea Pig boys, Mort, Oberone and Puck. A gang of squeaking, trilling lads tootling quickly along, single file in a direct line behind each other, happily fossicking in our lounge to an enraptured audience. We were originally most alarmed to hear the shrill squeaking a Cavy makes when excited – we thought one making such a sound was surely squashed beneath a chair, being disemboweled by a cat or in his very death throes??!!   Ah no! The three had simply heard the fridge door open and were delightedly shouting requests for “Leafy Greens, a slice of Carrot or if you don’t mind terribly, a dash of Broccoli please?”

Mort was a black Abyssinian Pig who helped me reach the conclusion that a name is very important to a life. Mort being a name best read about in books.

Fast forward to Gorgeous George, a Guinea Pig of true style and flair. This ginger and white chap with the beady red eyes was slim, sporty and sharp as a tack. He loved to stand on his igloo in his indoor cage and peer at us chatting in the lounge, was responsible for a cacophony of squeaks, screams and squeals if he sensed parsley heading in his direction and was a firm friend of my Persian cat Grizmelda.

LeeLou was a Buff coloured Pig who was intended as a girlfriend for George. We soon discovered he had the sly ability to tuck in his penis and flutter his eyelashes like a girl at her school formal.  LeeLou had a frivolous view of life – his own that is. My sister caught the neighbours Burmese cat in the act of jumping over the fence with LeeLou in her mouth…was he squealing, calling out for help and saviour?? No, he was merely resting in the very maw of untimely death and peeking mischievously out as if it was all a fun joke.

Now working in a pet store I have become surrounded by pinny gigs, young and older. I delight in the variations of personality and often pick out the extroverts to converse with and head stroke. The more time I spend in their company, the more it has dawned on me that they make seriously under-rated pet friends.

These little creatures are absolutely brilliant. Every Guinea Pig in every litter is wildly unique – Flatcoated, Crested, Bi-coloured, Tri-coloured, Mohican, Longhaired, Abysinnian, Self, Texel….the possibilities Nature comes up with is endless and fascinating.

I have met some wonderful characters, those I just know will go to a home where they will happily play a Guinea Pigs favourite game – ‘Freeze’. This game involves sneaking soundlessly up on an unsuspecting owner, freezing stock still when they glance in your direction, then scamper off as soon as they turn away, chuckling and purring busily under your breath.

I thoroughly recommend that you spend some time with a Guinea Pig Troop/Muddle/Mob; watch the interactions between many Pigs, rustling and crunching, joyfully chewing their way industriously through life. You may discover their (often secret) Guinea Pig ways, made up of bustling, bossy leaders and shy, gentle followers -the springing skip jump, the rattling growl warnings and the happy chin nuzzles.

These glorious few minutes you spend will put you in the company of Giants.

Cycling on a Flowery Demon

The cycle to work is a simple one. Twenty minutes and I am there.

As I pedal past the barely moving line of traffic that is attempting to make it in to the City, for work, for money earning, for coffee with workmates, signing paperwork and having short lunch breaks spent ‘relaxing’ on small bits of scrubby grass…I smile.

So many cars with one person in it, so many cars, idling at intersections, idling down Mount Alexander Road and no-one really looks content with this interminable waiting they seem to do every day. I wonder as I pedal faster, harder, ever willing to break my record of 18 minutes in – why don’t these people cycle too?

Would they not benefit from the exercise and burning up of breakfast eaten? Would they not enjoy the sound of Mynah Birds and Ravens squabbling over the best perches and bopping around in gutters? Wouldn’t they love to glance, to see into a mostly empty car and realise that cycling or walking is so much better for the soul, the environment and even the brain??

My brain matter revels in the music I play to it as I cycle, pedals clicking, spokes whirring and kilometres being eaten. My face breaks into a smile and when I get the lights, a grin. There is no better way to reach a day to day routine than under your own steam, refreshing and powerful in its control over your own fitness and the knowledge that you are NOT contributing to pollution and the slow starvation of our Earths fresh air.

Just a simple thing really.

There are the lights that turn red and force me to wait, there are the people who open car doors and forget to look and there are even those motorists who cut me off and swing nonchalantly around a corner making me brake hard and mutter bad words under my breath – all of these things can remove my smile, yes it’s true. However, the thing to realise next time you are waiting in traffic and are bored, grumpy and tempted to text – is that the cyclist passing you on the other side of the road, puffing her way up a slight hill and grinning to herself – has no envy of you at all.

I love my flower covered bicycle and I love to ride to work.

Going ……Homeland?

It was a fly-by visit – seven wintery, storm drenched days back in Wellington. It had been six months away for me but in hours that time became irrelevant. Family were still bursting with love, laughter and easy company. Cat girls still crazy, furry and attentive (once past the punishment who-are-you time) It was as if I had never left.

Having un-knowingly chosen the coldest blustery week, possibly of the whole winter – I froze my nose and toes until it felt they belonged to someone else, yet I loved even that. Wellie in wrap-up-warm Winter is still gorgeous. Friendly stranger smiles from Cuba Street locals, delicious People’s coffee in eccentric Newtown and the ever present joy of knowing every little crevice, side street and interesting shop in a favourite city – all these things reminded me of why I love Wellington so. There is a certain feeling when you fossick round Cuba Street that I don’t think you could get anywhere else.  Perhaps it comes from knowing the place so well, maybe it comes from a deep inner appreciation of the Kiwi culture? Either way it gives me peace and light to be there, even if just for a holiday.

A walk up and over the Island Bay hills reminded both Jase and I of the unique NZ smells we loved. Wet pine needles, abundant fern greenery sprinkled with dew and the lovely loamy earth smell that fills your nostrils and is only beaten in strength by the sound of the native birdlife. Tuis, Waxeyes, flirty Fantails and the melodious Bellbirds – we were spoilt for wonderful bird song.

Nights filled with games, the winning, the losing, the belly filling delectable treats prepared from scratch by my inventive chef sister devoured and washed down with great coffee and warmed by the fire until our toes became our own again. Laughing, talking, planning and just being there surrounded by loved ones…this was a journey I was so glad I made.

As we boarded our plane at Wellington Airport I sadly pondered – instead of leaving behind a big piece of my hearts soul when I depart this wonderful eccentric city, if only I could figure a way to take all these beloved things with me?

The answer I came up with is to store them in words such as these, to keep them close – in the front of my head just behind my eyes when they close…

Fishes and Faery Lights

Moving to another country and might I add, removing all of your unnecessary possessions to do so, is rather tricky.

So where do you start?

Take one online booking, a ONE WAY ticket and it goes from there. In a matter of weeks, 10 to be exact, I went from living in Wellington NZ to arriving in Melbourne Australia to live. I had no job and let’s be honest, no clue what I was in for. I just knew it was terribly exciting, completely invigorating and wonderfully empowering. I had made the commitment to my relationship and indeed to myself, I wanted to TRAVEL!

Australia meant I could more easily save money for my dream of wandering in foreign places…exotic countries to discover and many different cultures to examine. I love looking at new stuff, smelling the air in places unclean and green and poking my nose into places new. Thanks to a hugely generous Hedge Monkey and my own stubbornness to succeed, I am now well on my way to taking a Fangy bite out of many thrilling countries.

I will not lie, I have suffered homesickness off and on and gone through the guilt many times of abandoning my three adored cats to my wonderfully understanding family. These factors are the negative to the hugely life-changing thing that I have started. The positives however, are so many more. To learn about other cultures, to see the world beyond my own homeland and the ability to pick up and go with only a few treasured possessions, clothes and a partner in crime – these are all strengthening to my soul.

The most difficult part now is to remember not to buy into the consumerism that is all around everyone on this planet. We have bought a few necessities – the things we could not manage to get second hand from family and friends, but nothing we cannot easily sell or give away upon our exit to places unknown. Admittedly, we DO have two small tanks of fish, wonderful friends of beautiful colours and impressive swimming styles and a wee few frivolous household items too -what would a year in a country, in an apartment be like without faery lights to cheer or photo artwork to brighten?

Right now we take small ventures around Melbourne city and the surrounding countryside, drinking local beers and fanciful cocktails, eating ourselves stupid of delicious food and filling the computer with photos galore of traveling exploits. The dreams are many, to explore the wilds of this country, to visit and for me, discover the beauty of England and then….backpacking South America, India, Asia and beyond.

Beyond?

Well no future is certain and a wise lad often tells me no plans are set in concrete, so let’s make this up as we go along and just plain enjoy traipsing this glorious planet until our money runs out or our shoes get too many holes in them.

To INFINITY and Beyond!

Gentle Annies Beach-a wandering

The grass where they are camped with their little yellow and green, two person but enough room for random visiting tabby cats, tent is sproingy, tough and magnificent. The sun shines every day and one of her favourite things is to wake up and go outside the tent to see the sparkles of the overnight dew on each and every blade, the warm light breezes blowing each individual one in a fresh smelling dance.

Here in this private wonderland they have found there are always birds in the morning, birds singing of nests and food and chicks, fossicking for crumbs, hunting tasty worms and avoiding the two intruders in their domain. She tries to encourage two such birds to come and visit with bread, sprinkling it carefully in a closer than you think circle around their tent. The birds peek beady eyes in her direction and studiously ignore the temptation, even after half an hour they get no closer. As far as she knows, the bread is there still, perhaps the worms at least have feasted.

Breakfast is porridge lovingly made over a gas burner with jam and soy milk and fills their lazy bellies, after this, a shower, teeth clean and fresh undie finding, the Fangy Bunny and the Hedge Monkey decide to wander the beach just there in search of things and stuff and sights to glory their eyes.

They frollick happily, jumping, climbing over small yet very busy streams, using bridges that Nature created and making a soggy mess of their trouser or skirt bottoms. They laugh and point at each other in glee.

Fangy adores finding stones, pebbles, feathers and other interesting things in this wild landscape. Every stone is shining with the quartz within and all are rounded smooth and egglike by the ever-present pounding surf along this West Coast wild beachline. She fills her pockets, her bag and pockets of Hedge Monkeys with a ridiculous amount of treasures, a dream of making them into something beautiful and significant on her return to the city.

The booming, sliding, rumbling noise of the waves is a background to the discovery of wonderful things. The magic pattern of ripples in the sand, the huge architecture of twisted driftwood art, the jumble of old wood and stones that someone has made into a small hideaway…their hearts trip every time one or other finds something new. The Hedge Monkey stops often to take photographs of this and that and manages to capture the beauty in a still form often. He humours the Fangy by photographing yet another sand written message and as always he grins and laughs at her shyness at being photographed.

They hold hands and feel the warmth of each others skin joyfully by touching and both are peaceful yet excited and interested, what can be found just up further, just around the corner, what things to discover?

They clamber over bigger rocks and find a cave dripping with moisture still, this area cannot be trusted long they were warned and they can tell themselves that the roaring surf could advance and steal them away at any moment. Still they sit on the biggest boulder for a time, no words, just companionship and looking, admiring the waves, watching the birds and smelling the salt and the sun and the wind brought mossy smells. The Hedge Monkey wanders down to the waters edge and throws rocks into it, big rocks yet they are swallowed by that monstrous water with narry a plip in its presence. He considers he said, pulling mussels off rocks around that corner unseen for the Fangy who adores these salty chewy treats, but just then a giant wave session comes thundering, grabbing at his retreating heels and they laugh from their bellies and run shrieking like girls.

They follow their own footprints, the only ones here what a pleasure, back to the campsite and lunch of figs and cheese with beer slightly warmed but still fizzy as Kiwis like it. Time spent in swinging chairs reading and talking and resting their eyes makes for a lingering afternoon of simple and easy content.

A fire pit and wine that is cheap yet doing the trick is something to look forward to for the evening. This they do, using words and silliness and still moments of stargazing to close another day at the beach they both love best.

A Birds-eye View

My new city of Melbourne is a city of birds.

From the dawn-song of the brightly coloured, scatter-flying of the Rainbow Lorikeets to the swirling flocks of the Common Myna going to roost in the sepia evening trees, I am treated to wonderful bird viewing every day.

This country has so many wonderful native birds. Flashy and with loud raucous voices (some would comment they sound like the nasal, twanging Australian people, but no not I,  someone else foolish of course) these crazy madcap fellows are to be seen in all parts of the city.

Brilliantly Green, the colour of Granny Smith apples, Grass Parrots poking around in tussocks and on freshly renewed lawns.

Harshly cawing, impressive sized Ravens perched on rooftops and telephone wires, passing sarcastic remarks to all who pass under.

The strange sound of the Miner Birds in many treetops – triggering feelings of walking through busy supermarket checkouts.

My mind delights and my eyes adore, the straight-edged flight of the yokel Cockatoos, the bobbing and huddling of the eighties coloured Galahs like so many gossiping ladies around a cafe table

and the always wonderful silhouettes of the darling Magpies strutting their stuff through…

…well anywhere they like!

I am hard pressed to decide on any one bird as my favourite but instead choose a favourite time.

Sunset and the madcap, disorganisation of the Lori’s….a crowd of colour, not flying with grace but flying with attitude, back to the chosen resting spots for the oncoming dusk.

Who cannot enjoy and often laugh at these cheerfully, busy chaps as they almost take out the side of buildings in their energetic drop, swoop, slide, glide hubbub?