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Bus number 448 sits at is starting point in Hobart, purring, awaiting with door open to take passengers on a magical, mystery tour. Slightly battered and worn, it’s green and cream livery showing Metro wear and tear, the bus and the route it takes is an unlikely metaphor for that place where the natural and the human worlds meet. The bus on route 448 climbs out of Hobart on the hour, winding its way south-west to the base of kunanyi/Mount Wellington. It follows the contours … [Read more...] about Wildlife ticket to ride

Speech to the annual general meeting of the Tasmanian National Parks Association on November 26, 2017. The battle to protect and conserve Tasmania’s pristine wild places was brought home to me within days of arriving in the state from Britain 20 years ago. I was staying with my mother-in-law in Howrah at the time and wandered down to the Shoreline shopping centre where I came across an exhibition being mounted by the Tasmanian Conservation Trust. Peter McGlone, who was … [Read more...] about Wilderness for sale

Among the Willows and Wild Things, the Fingal Valley nature diary of a young girl in the 1930s Ann Page, edited by Margaretta Pos. Reviewed September 14, 2018 In the 1930s schoolgirl Ann Page set out to explore the “beautiful unknown” of the Fingal Valley and eighty years on her daughter, Margaretta Pos, gives us the chance to join her on her adventures. Ann had a nature diary in mind but what she produced was a stunning portrait of the valley, in all its beauty, in … [Read more...] about The beautiful unknown

The eastern quoll was caught in my headlights. Honey-coloured with creamy spots, the fur shimmering in the beam, quoll eyes sparkling, as wild as an animal can get. It made a dash across the road, had second thoughts, stopped suddenly and then turned to run back into the shadows beyond the pavement, vanishing down a slope leading to the Sandy Bay Rivulet. I’ve learned to drive slowly on my suburban street, aware of the volume of roadkill – about one dead Bennett’s … [Read more...] about Rivulet has friends

Jet-lagged, not knowing the time of day, or even the day or month, I lay in bed listening to the twitter of a robin. The room was in near darkness. Was it dawn or dusk? I had no idea, but in that strange twilight of the mind that is jetlag I knew at least I had arrived safely in Britain from Tasmania. The song of the robin told me so, and I knew it was winter. The robin was singing a winter territorial song, the one I heard from churchyards in my winter ramblings as a … [Read more...] about Silence is golden