Evoking Charles Dicken’s A Christmas Carol, the ghosts of Christmas past paid a visit over the holiday period. Not that I saw myself as Scrooge, with ghosts out to haunt me in a malign way as they do to the central character in Dickens’ story. The “ghosts” were friendly and benign, bringing a sackful of pleasant memories. Christmas is a time for reflection and in my case recounting festive birding experiences shared with friends over more than 40 years or so. Across the … [Read more...] about Ghosts of Christmas past
A little help from a friend
Seagulls gliding and soaring over AAMI Park in Melbourne, their outstretched wings in a rainbow of colours, pulsating in the night sky: pinks, yellows, greens and blues. The shimmering silver gulls were having a psychedelic moment and so was I. Far down below them, and far below my seat in the top tier of the stadium, Paul McCarty was into the second of about 40 numbers on the latest leg of his Australian tour, the strobe lights illuminating the stage escaping into the air … [Read more...] about A little help from a friend
The Shy Mountain
Silent and brooding, the Shy Mountain does not have to speak her name. We know she’s there, watching us, even when she chooses to hide beneath a blanket of low cloud. Although she’s not a mountain of legend like Everest, Kilimanjaro or even Kosciuszko, she has her own claim to fame. Kunanyi / Mount Wellington brings wilderness to the very doorstep of a significant centre of population, and how many mountains can claim to do that? … [Read more...] about The Shy Mountain
A letter to the editor
For more than 100 years, The Times newspaper in Britain has heralded the approach of summer by publishing a letter from the reader who hears the first call of the migratory European cuckoo. I’ve now learned that for many years there was a similar tradition in Tasmania, recording not the arrival of one of our cuckoo species from the mainland but that of the welcome swallow. The swallow clarion call came from a single reader, Charles Burbury. He wrote to the Mercury about the … [Read more...] about A letter to the editor
Hobart’s mountain playground
WHERE I come from we do not have mountains or wilderness. It is not surprising then that someone like myself born in London and brought up on its suburban fringes should have a fascination with the high country. To say nothing of the south-west wilderness. Along with exotic animals, mountains always seemed to feature in the picture books I was bought as a child. They reared off the page, always with their jagged tops painted white to indicate snow. But us Cockney kids did … [Read more...] about Hobart’s mountain playground