Currawong heart

Beach surprise

After an absence of several weeks I finally got to the beach today. Miske had been in season which meant we had been confined to walking in 'safe' locations: down to the dam and back or into the bush next door. Definitely not to the dog beach. Blake, the puppy we kept, had been taken to the beach a few times by friends when they took their dogs down to the beach, so he had at least had a bit of fun. Blake is now as big as his mum, much to her chagrin. She wants to be boss and he wants to be annoying. Now Blake just woofs at her to let her know he isn't happy about something. I have seen her give up a bone to him after one woof. Not a good precedent if she wants to stay boss.

The tide was way out exposing thin green slivers of water weed laying flat on the limestone rocks, the weeds occasionally raised up as an incoming wave lifted and swirled around and over then raced towards my feet tracing the moving edges of the water. Sooty oyster catchers with their distinctive red beaks and eyes took advantage of the low tide, and picked and probed a smorgasbord fresh from the rocks.

While I was photographing the ocean an immature Pacific Gull lazily drifted into my picture frame. 

It floated along the jagged limestone edge just in front of us before it flapped up and off further down the beach before commencing the lazy drift again. 

The last thing I expected to see down the beach this morning was a small flock of white tailed black cockatoos. They were feeding on the seeds of the wild geranium growing only metres from the sandy beach. The birds were half hidden on the ground, becoming visible as they flapped up and drifted a few metres along with the breeze, then dropped down to feed once more.

Look carefully there are five cockies in the image above.

Here they are much easier to pick out. They are probably Baudin's Cockatoo as they breed in karri country as opposed to Carnaby's Cockatoo which breed mainly in the wheatbelt. Their different bill shapes are rather difficult to determine from a distance. Baudin's has a long narrow upper bill and Carnaby's has a short thick upper bill. Their calls are different too, but these fellows were too busy eating to be calling.

Pools and twisted gums

Just north of Meekatharra we again stopped at Bilyuin Pool. It is a great spot to camp with a long permanent pool in the middle of dry flat mulga country. On both our visits the surrounding country has seemed bare, grey and drought stricken. The pool is on the headwaters of the Murchison River, which true to form for northern rivers, is not so much a river, but more of a watercourse and occasional river. This is station country and the cattle came in for a drink in the morning, and mooched around munching on the green feed in the watercourse, keeping their distance from us of course.

 We camped beside the big pool this time, the other smaller pools were dry this visit.

Our camp is under the white gums on the distant left

There were a different range of birds this time. I loved watching the black-tailed native hens grazing on the short grass on the pool edges and feeding in the shallows. They behave rather like chooks, just very shy, running through the shallows and taking off into the bush when disturbed.

Black-tailed native hens

There were both black fronted dotterels and red kneed dotterels feeding by the water's edge.

Black Fronted Dotterel with worm

Away from the watercourse country I saw pairs of red winged wrens feeding in the shrubs. Black faced cuckoo shrikes blended in beautifully with the colours of the white gums. 

Black-faced cuckoo shrike

I love the forms of massed white gum trunks and the twisted shapes of branches against the blue sky.

More shades of black and white. The ubiquitous willie wagtail. Always cheerfully chirruping and flitting over the water after insects. One morning a willie wagtail attacked a crow down by the waters edge, then four white plumed honeyeaters promptly attached the willy wagtail, chasing it across the water. Nesting season must be in full swing.

And finally, a Nicotiana flower sprouting from a sandy watercourse.

Happiness is ...

Eight puppies at six and a half weeks

Butter wouldn't melt in their mouths

This morning Miske taught the puppies 'digging' and  'under the decking'. I watched as she jumped off the decking with a few puppies in tow and deliberately dug a few scrapes in the soft sand, nuzzling the puppies. She walked away then came back and did exactly the same thing again. Two of the puppies pawed the sand, following her example. 'Digging!! ... we could have lots of fun here ...' Next she led them into a bigggg hole she had dug earlier - 'this is what you can do with digging'. They rolled down the slope and kicked up sand as they scampered back up the sides. Minutes later Miske went to the end of the decking where the access to underneath is, again with puppies in tow and stuck her nose underneath as if to say, 'take a look in there its fun'. She was definitely on a mission this morning.

Under the deck has always been a place of fascination for the dogs. A few years ago we heard the sounds of digging, scraping and whining coming from under our deck. It was our neighbours dog going through the nesting digging stage of pregnancy.  There must have been some primal memory of a 'good den' that she locked away sometime during her 'holidays' here. We were so surprised. We hadn't looked after her since she was much younger and to get here she had to squeeze under our fence to get in to our yard. No mean feat when you have a belly full of puppies.

Miske did the same with her first pregnancy too - under the deck and digging for her life. Getting these pregnant diggers out was no easy task either - all they wanted to do was dig a lovely, well hidden den. It was a fight between their nesting instinct and obeying a higher ranking member of their 'pack' calling them out. Second time around we just didn't give Miske the chance to dig when she was in the nesting phase - we kept her indoors or closely supervised while outside.

Under is the newest game

The first excitement of 'under the deck' turned to squeals of panic as the puppies worked out how to get back out. Miske poked her head down where they were, while we had to cajole them out, digging even bigger holes for those that had ventured all the way under. Tiny tails waggled excitedly as they figured it out - then the intrepid pups went straight back under to test out their new found game.

By the end of the day the hole was a favoured sleeping spot.