By Deb Sorensen in Kakadu National Park
The tourists are slowing down now, and the clouds are building up. The weather is hot and muggy; everybody goes around with their clothes stuck to their bodies with sweat.
The gathering clouds and increasing humidity mark the beginning of a long and slow wet season. It probably won't rain in earnest till December or January. But the steadily blackening clouds will tease and torment, promising relief from the heat and humidity and then dispersing again, only to build up the following afternoon.
So this is the "build-up" rather than the wet season proper. In Gun-djeihmi (Mayali) language, mid-October to late December is Gunumeleng. It is the time of year when the paperbark trees along the water courses begin flowering and attract colonies of fruit bats, which screech and flap as they feed on the blossoms. There are sudden brief storms, thunder and lightning and no rain.
One evening as we were just about to close the gate for the day, a team of carpenters from Darwin came through to start work on the new park headquarters. They were travelling in two cars, one of which wouldn't restart. They got out to push. The storm which suddenly erupted was completely unexpected. One minute they had been walking casually, the next they were bent nearly double, fighting the wind to get back into their cars. A huge gust of wind deposited branches and leaves onto the roof of the gate building so it sounded like it was falling in. That night as we drove across the flood plain, flashes of sheet lightning lit up the road and the plain lighter than day.
After the first few storms, some of the creeks begin to run. Stagnant water from permanent billabongs is flushed into the water courses, often killing some of the fish, which float to the surface.
As the water on the plains deepens, the water birds disperse. It is the late dry season rather than the wet which attracts the water birds. The magpie geese, the most numerous of Kakadu's water birds, feed on the seeds of swamp grasses and the bulbs of rushes. The wandering whistling duck and others feed on the aquatic plants, insects and shrimp which are found in the shallower waters of the late dry season.
Now there has been some rain, the flood plains which were crowded with bird life only weeks ago are quiet and seemingly deserted. The magpie geese are incessant talkers, so you can hear them wherever they are. They have a ridiculous honk which rose to a cacophony over the flood plain in October. Now they have paired off and found sheltered places to build their nests and raise the next generation of honkers.
The lower numbers of visitors driving and traipsing through the bush give the country time to recover for the next onslaught. More than 200,000 people visit the park annually, which does have its toll on the environment.
At quieter times we see some of the wildlife of Kakadu at closer range. Four curious emus, which are rare in this area, came to investigate one day. There were three young and a parent, probably male. In this species, the male sits on the eggs. If it's convenient, the female will bring him the occasional bite to eat. The male also raises the chicks until they are able to fend for themselves.
Numerous birds swoop and chatter through the trees around the entry station. We had a much closer encounter with a little corella. These are small white cockatoos, very common in the park. Flocks of cockatoos and galahs, including black, sulphur-crested and pink and greys can often be seen feeding on the grass seeds on the sides of the road. They appear unperturbed by approaching cars, then fly at the last moment. More than one bird has been hit this way.
That's what happened to our little corella. Some very upset tourists pulled up at the gate one day with one in a banana box. It was on its back with its feet stuck straight up in the air. Out cold. There were few vital signs, but we decided to see if it would revive. We put the box in a quiet, dark corner (the toilet) and checked at intervals for any sign of life. Eventually we heard movement as it began shuffling around in the box. We decided to see if it could fly.
I set off back down the highway to get as close as possible to the scene of the accident. It's very important to note the place, as exactly as possible, from which you have taken injured wildlife. Most birds have their own flocks, mates and/or territory. If they are returned to the bush just anywhere, they may not be accepted by the locals and may not survive.
By the time I reached the spot, the corella was flapping around quite frantically in the banana box. I put the box in the long spear grass, took off the lid and stood back. Initially dazed by the sunlight, the corella took a moment to realise it could escape its prison. Scrambling unsteadily out, it flew wonkily onto the first available branch. From there it watched warily as I drove away.
We have also been acquainted with a native tree rat which was found staggering drunkenly around the back door of our house in Jabiru. At first we thought this beautiful animal (they look quite different from your common, urban rat) had overindulged in fermented fruit. The fruit on native trees can often become fermented in the heat and the animals that eat it become drunk.
Unfortunately, the rat's health fast deteriorated in its box. Unlike the corella, the rat did not rise from its undignified position on its back with its feet in the air. This is how we later found "Ratty" when rigor mortis had well and truly set in.
We have one wild friend whom we still see on most days. "Spot" is a Children's python — so called because they were named by Mr or Ms Children, rather than their being a good pet for kids. Spot has taken lodgings in the cleaning equipment room in the public toilet block down the road. The snake obviously appreciates the cooler, relatively sheltered place, which also offers a varied and generous menu of lizards, frogs and insects. I can tell you about Spot and even open the storeroom door with an (almost) complete lack of trepidation because I know the species is not likely to be aggressive and is not venomous.
Pythons, of which there are several species in the park, prepare their prey for eating by coiling themselves around it and squeezing. Although the larger species are able to do this to mammals as large as wallabies, they do not pose a threat to people under normal circumstances. However, Spot does look a trifle mean, so we can only hope she/he doesn't decide to venture out one day into the path of some unsuspecting tourist.