The Emu Update

The Emu Saga: Part Two

Emus are real. They really are. We had just finished lunch and were settling back in to match some more fins (thrilling as always…) when Tim’s wife Janine called to let us know that there was an emu strolling down our street. Cameras in hand, we tumbled out the door to see this lovely lady in all her feathered finery:

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Check out those feet though! She went right by our front door, and down the road to some scrubby brush that separates us from the supermarket area of town. I found her tracks later on when I went for my evening walk, but she may have traveled a fair distance at this point…

Regardless, emus. They could appear in YOUR LIFE TOO. Watch out. Any moment now, an emu might stroll past. You’ll think it’s a very tiny grass hut, or perhaps a really bad bowl cut on a really big head, and then its neck will stretch up and its broad-beaked face will look at you and you will remember what it felt like to be a tiny rat-mammal facing off with a dinosaur. And then you will remember that you don’t live in Australia and are at the zoo (go buy your kid an ice cream, and teach her or him about science, but don’t encourage that whole cage thing…) OR that you do live in Australia and this is just regular life OR that you are hallucinating, are you dehydrated?

The Angriest Golf Ball You Ever Did See

I went for a wander through some tide pools the other day. The flats were shallow and productive, full of algae and little fish, hermit crabs and snails:

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But besides the cowries and more typical-looking snails, I found this guy:

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He may look distinctive in this photo, but he’s only about an inch long and I nearly stepped on him- he’s all the same colors as the surrounding sand and algae. Camouflage is good most of the time, but I’d have felt really bad if his turned out to be too effective.

My feet were in the water, since there were no dry places to step- I really did have to keep an eye out. Especially when I looked into a slightly deeper pool to see a little brown cephalopod scuttling across the bottom, arms tucked underneath- I leaned in and shuffled very carefully closer, hoping for a cuttlefish or a baby reef octopus. The golf ball below blanched and then flashed blue, and I snapped this photo before backing off rather hastily:

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It’s enough to confirm the presence of a blue-ringed octopus, one of the most venomous marine animals in the world. That angry little golf ball that changed direction and charged at my toes contained enough potent and antidote-less venom to kill me in minutes. “Not aggressive,” it says on Wikipedia. Well, as far as I know I didn’t do anything to make it mad. Perhaps it didn’t sleep well, or perhaps it wasn’t expecting any observers of its afternoon hunting and was embarrassed at the state of its hair.

Anyways, it was really blue and quite agitated, so I decided to get out of its way. It turned and headed deeper into its little pool as I watched from a nearby rocky perch, so it may not have been aimed at me anyways… I really wasn’t terribly interested in finding out for sure.

Fun fact: every photo in this post has, as its subject, a member of the phylum Mollusca. Shelled, invertebrate, mantled- each cephalopod or gastropod (brain-foot or stomach-foot, respectively) here descends from a hypothetical limpet-like ancestor. Evolution is neat! And just because I love evolution so much, here is a bonus sea hare, about the length of my hand:

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Hooray! Go explore something!

-AgentRedSquirrel

In Search of Emu

The Emu Saga: Part 1

Still haven’t gotten any good face-to-face emu time, but the more time I spend wandering the bush the better my odds are, right? My recently-new Vans are getting less cherry-red and more Outback-dust red, but I find no little satisfaction in recognizing my footprints day to day out on the trails near town, especially when they’re overlaid or intermingled with ‘roo and emu tracks.

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Emus are tridactyl- they have three toes, wide and leathery, that press into the red dirt as they walk. I love thinking about emu feet- they have to be pretty intense to hold up that much bird, to handle the prickly grasses and sharp stones of the outback, and to be able, as claimed by the emu Wikipedia article, to tear down chain-link fences.

Those feet are so formidable, in fact, that they pose a significant threat to unwise humans who attempt to make a full-grown emu do… I guess anything that a full-grown emu doesn’t want to do (cue joke about the 500-pound gorilla, except imagine that gorilla with sharp toe claws and a very wide beak. And feathers? Okay, this is just getting confusing now). I don’t think that the emu’s feet were the deciding factor in the frankly embarrassing “Emu War,” waged between machine-gun armed Australian troops and thirsty birds in the 1930s, but hey- I’m sure with those feet, an emu could handily (haha) kick my butt.

Anyways, I’ve been trying to find myself an emu friend. Apparently they’re curious about people, and will sometimes follow a lone human on foot; thus far, no such emu magic has happened to me, but I’m working on it. I’ve encountered fresher and fresher emu poops (see http://animals.io9.com/everything-you-ever-wanted-to-know-about-emu-poo-1570013557 for… everything you ever wanted to know about emu poop) as I’ve wandered the hills near Exmouth:

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The stuff’s like tar filled with seeds, and over time (days?) the whole mixture dries into a black solid mess, seeds browning and eventually sprouting as the black stuff greys out and (weeks later?) blows away. There is a remarkable amount of this around all of the bushy areas near our house, considering the also remarkable lack of emus on my walks. But I live in hope!

Another thing I have lived in hope for, however, has finally come true.

“Emus on the beach!” I cried on one of my first days on the boat, out by the Bundegi boat ramp. “I want to see emus on the beach.”

So quintessentially Australian, I thought. How funny would it be, gangly-legged birds with stringy feathers draped across their humped backs, trotting across the soft sand? Combine the gentle waves and romantic dunes with nobbled knees and perpetually surprised faces: what could be better?

Beachmus. Dreams really do come true:DSC_0011

The Commute

We drive out anywhere between 6 am and 3 pm, depending on the winds and the tides- we load the boat and the ute (Aussie for truck or SUV, a “utility vehicle”), hitch up, and take off for one of our three boat ramps.

Exmouth marina is the closest, and the least exciting. We have seen young barracuda and minnows, and once a pair of foraging Tursiops, but for the most part it’s just calm and sheltered from winds (but not from Paul Simon blaring from yacht speakers). If we launch from Exmouth, we’re spending the day in Exmouth Gulf, deep and turbid waters and horizons littered with oil rigs and barges.IMG_1402

Bundegi boat ramp is nearest the tip of the North West Cape. Still in the Gulf, Bundegi has the advantage of a shallow reef and proximity to the Navy Pier, whence live the nurse sharks and the BFG. If we launch Bundegi, we’re likely going around the tip, with exciting swells and significant changes in scenery. Plus, the boat ramp harbors several juvenile batfish (sorry, hard to photograph while unhitching/hitching a boat) and lots of stingrays, among other little fishies.IMG_1113

Tantabiddi is the farthest ramp. It takes us near 45 minutes to drive there, through emu country (scrubby bushes and spinifex grasses) and kangaroo-spotted hills. Nearly all the way to the Cape Range National Park, a Tantabiddi launch means that we’re spending time in the lagoon (my favorite part of our transect lines- only a meter or three deep, turquoise water and white sand punctuated by coral bommies and easily-spotted dolphins) or on the outer reef, wherein lies our best chance of spotting a whale shark.IMG_2254

But regardless of where we launch, our daily commute can’t be considered boring, or at least not to excitable Americans. At the side of the road in town, I snapped this photo out the driver’s side window:IMG_2314

I went looking for her later that evening, and found lots of emu evidence (more on this later). But some of the best emu-time, best sunsets, best kangaroo encounters, most lovely hills and termite mounds have all been on our commute to “the office.” Just as full of interesting characters as the New York subway and just as scenic as I-280 along the Crystal Springs Reservoir in California, this commute sure doesn’t suck.

About a Wallaby

I think the profession of dentistry must be one of the most-maligned and most-feared in popular media- think of the gleeful sadism of The Dentist from Little Shop of Horrors or the revulsion with which Hermey the Elf is met in Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer. Jennifer Aniston in Horrible Bosses, several horror movies from the 90’s, that uncomfortably pathetic guy from The Hangover… but any list of my favorite horrible dentists must include Mr. P. Sherman, of 42 Wallaby Way, Sydney.

All of this was a tangential way to reference Finding Nemo’s Dr. Sherman’s mid-operation declaration that he needs to “go see a man about a wallaby” as he adjusts his pants and heads for the loo. It’s been a recurring internal joke for me during my time Down Under, anytime anyone needs a bathroom or mentions wallabies- maybe I watch too many kids’ movies? Anyways, as a northern hemisphere-girl I’m fascinated both by the native marsupials and the turns of phrase here in Oz. So we went down to Yardie Creek to see a man named “Boxy” about a wallaby, not in a bathroom kind of way but in a photographic opportunity kind of way.

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The Black-Footed Rock-Wallaby lives in the caves and crannies along the side of Yardie Creek. Though it’s not actually apparently called that (the black-sided wallaby, perhaps?) and doesn’t apparently live in this area, according to Wikipedia… I can attest that they do exist. Scooting out of caves and grooming themselves in the morning sun, squinting into the light and down at the boat passing underneath, these fuzzy little marsupials seemed perfectly at home along the steep rock walls high above the water.

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Yep, perfectly at home. Just letting it all hang out. Right on out there.

I don’t know a lot about marsupial anatomy but I’m pretty sure that is not a lady wallaby. No pouch, no joey (DID YOU KNOW THAT AUSTRALIAN CUB SCOUTS ARE CALLED JOEYS?) and no little pink bow…

Must be a dentist.

Best Looking Birds

As we chatted with the tour operator at Yardie Creek, a group of elderly travelers disembarked around us. Wives helped husbands with canes out of the low seats, and their cheery organizer/guide asked for a vote on whether or not to walk up the trail a bit (it seemed like nobody was that enthused). One khaki-clad man, seemingly alone, paused as he passed us three Team Sousa members.

“Best-looking birds I’ve seen all trip,” he grumbled in our general direction before stomping up the few steps to the dock.

My first (innocent) thought: I wonder where they’ve been, and if they’re all on a bird-watching trip?

My second thought: …gross.

Crusty old Australians aside, Yardie Creek (Yardi means “creek” in one of the many Aboriginal languages of Australia, so really all of us immigrants and tourists are referring to the briny tidal waters as the “creek creek”) did in fact host some lovely birds. Ospreys seem to be a theme around here:

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It feels like everywhere we go, someone points out an osprey nest to us. Doesn’t make them less awesome, though- this one has reportedly been occupied nearly continuously for 80 years at least. It may not always have contained chicks, but the past few years have been productive for local ospreys, evidenced by the juveniles and new nests we’ve seen around the area. They’re very fun to watch from the boat, as they dive for fish and flap, low and slow above the waves, with their struggling prizes.

Corellas, with their cockatoo head plumes and raucous screeches, followed us from the trees of Exmouth to the cliffs of Yardie and the Cape Range. They’re not the only things sheltering in the little caves worn into the rock faces (more on their other occupants in a later post), but they certainly make an impression. They flash white feathers over ledges and splay their wingtips to impress their companions and warn away hovering birds of prey, and peer down at the boat below with heads cocked.

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A kestrel of some kind, with a tiny bit of snake in her mouth, landed just shy of these two youngsters who were tucked away in an overhang. They shuffled out to peer at us as we peered at them, wide-eyed and wobbly.

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Among the other lovely long-legged locals, this white-faced heron gave us a good show. Best-looking birds, indeed, random old guy. Best-looking birds, indeed.

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Good Signs

The weather this week looks lovely! But that’s not really why I made this awful joke title. Road signs in Australia are really fun- I’m used to deer crossings and on a really good day in New Hampshire, a moose crossing, but for the most part road signs in my area just blend in to the background unless I’m looking for directions or speed limits. Here, though:IMG_1787

Knobble-kneed emus, kangaroos poised to leap in front of cars, blue signs indicating “tourist ways” and “coral viewing.”

I’m sure they aren’t interesting to the people who live here, but I love me a goofy animal silhouette.

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They’re not kidding, though- emus and kangaroos are all over the road en route to our launch sites at Tantabiddi and Bundegi boat ramps. Even better than the signs are the mirrored looks of surprise on the faces of car drivers and passengers and the animals they come across.

 

Birthday Bommies

 

 

 

Today was Tim’s birthday- we had a gathering last night, a communal meal with some of the best hummus I’ve ever had (thanks Cindy!), beetroot on burgers, happy and then sleepy baby, and a birthday present from the whole of Team Sousa 2014. Kaja emailed every member, present and departed from Exmouth, and added his or her photo to a collage- we took ours on the boat without Tim noticing a thing. Well, okay, he got vaguely suspicious that we were up to something after a while, but forgot soon enough and never saw the signs we’d prepared. Janine, Tim’s wife, and David, his father, took care of printing and laminating, and we surprised him after dinner. Here’s the final collage:

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This morning we baked cupcakes and headed for the Cape Range National Park, driving out across more miles (kilometers, sorry) of shrubs and termite mounds and red soil. It’s still fairly green after the rainy season, but the hills are beginning to brown and animals are on the lookout for water.

At Oyster Stacks, a well-known snorkel spot, we suited up and jumped in. I’ve never seen plate corals and healthy staghorn and elkhorn formations like those, nor such a diversity of fishes. The Caribbean, or more specifically the Cayman Islands, which were my last dive destination, has lost nearly all of its staghorn corals and much of its coral health due to human activity and development in the area. In Hawaii, where I’ve done most of my diving, the coral and fish populations are impoverished due to the extreme distance between the islands and any other major coral reef masses. The corals that made it out across the Pacific to those newly-formed volcanoes in the sea were rare and mostly boulder-type structures, growing in bulbous mounds across the seafloor and creating nooks and crannies for the fish that made the crossing too. The number of species in the Hawaiian Islands is therefore much lower than those supported by the Great Barrier Reef and the chains of islands and barrier reefs connecting the whole of the South Pacific. That’s not to say it isn’t a lovely place, plenty of color and interesting fauna, and I’ve loved every minute of every dive there, but the reef architecture of Ningaloo is fascinating.

Purple boulder corals mixed with giant orange plates, surrounded by interlocking horns of bright green polyps, all filled with darting crowds of blue and yellow and red fishes. Big coral heads, nearing the surface of the water or even breaking through it, are referred to here as “bommies,” etymology still unclear. It’s a useful term, though, as we’re often sampling around or in shallow coral communities and need to be watching out lest our propeller should take issue and start a fight with one of the more prominent examples of the phenomenon.

Giant clams nestle in on the reef, showing striped colored mantles. They flinch away from shadows but seem so impenetrably large. I don’t know why they don’t live in the Hawaiian chain- possibly temperature, nutrients, or similar reef structural issues, though distance is likely not the issue. Small clams and other bivalves (two-shelled mollusks like scallops, mussels, and oysters) float as plankton on ocean currents until they grow large enough to settle onto the substrate and develop fully, so a giant clam larva could probably span the ocean to the islands if no other factors impeded its spread.

Anyways, I’ve never seen them before and they’re gorgeous. Their thick-walled shells are impressive on their own, and the exposed inner surfaces ripple with blues and greens created by symbiotic communities of algae that provide the clams with solar energy in the form of sugars while taking shelter in its skin.

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Kaja, talented marine photographer of all of this post’s photos, nearly backed into this black-tip reef shark when it rounded a bommie at her back. About 5 feet long and intriguingly deep-chested (possibly pregnant? Later in the season I hope to visit the blacktip nursery out by the mangroves), it is easily identifiable by a layer of black over a mostly-white fin on a gray body. It didn’t seem at all perturbed to see us, nor did it have to work hard at all to outdistance us over the reef when it decided it had had a good enough look.

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I’m so glad to have finally made it into the water. We stayed out until we got cold and tired of getting tossed around in the shallow surf, but I’m confident that we’ll have plenty more opportunity to explore. There’s so much to see, and so many questions to ask and answer out on the reef! #SCIENCE