A flame robin flew through a swirling mist and settled on a lichen-inscribed rock. The male robin’s fiery breast pierced the gloom as it hopped from rock to rock but there were other pockets of radiant colour bringing a surreal glow to the summit of kunanyi/Mt Wellington.
A party of City of Hobart Bushcare volunteers in fluorescent vests had gathered on the plateaux for their annual rubbish-removal exercise on April 2nd.
The hi-vis volunteers looked at the robin and the robin looked at the volunteers. Both appeared perplexed. On a day of sleet-laden winds, and a grey-and-white landscape which barely extended beyond the reach of the hand-held grab devices used to pick up litter, neither expected such a flourish of colour.
The curious robin inspected each of these strange creatures invading its fastness, before flying into the mist with a muted twitter.
Although the rubbish clearing is billed as an annual event, it did not take place last year because of Covid-19 restrictions.
As if moving with the times, the 44 volunteers reported a new item among the usual items of discarded plastic and paper collected in past years – face masks.
I picked up two adding to a tally of more than 60 when the combined 78kg of rubbish was sorted into recyclables and disposals at the end of the day.
Although I was distracted momentarily by the robin, the exercise proved an interesting way to measure how rubbish, and especially plastic, is invading our pristine places, even those far removed from the centres of population. Although many items were discarded in areas surrounding the mountain-top car park – like cigarette butts and paper tissues – here was evidence that plastic bags might have blown up the mountain from lower ground. There were also the spent shells of balloons no doubt released in open spaces closer to the city.
Face masks had quite possibly been blown off faces in the high winds that are a common feature of the mountain and it was a sad reflection on our modern times to note that the day previously I had seen masks floating in the Derwent.
But the unexpected sight of the flame robin brightened my day, The flame robin breeds in the high country during the summer before descending to coastal areas in winter. With the clocks going back the next morning – an event I always deem the unofficial start of winter – I thought the flame robin was leaving it a little late to flee such a hostile environment when the days and weather close in.
The flame robin is easily separated from another family member common on mountain, the scarlet robin which has more black and white in its plumage instead of dark grey, and a crimson breast.
Although both robins are stunning in appearance, this day belonged to the flame robin whose plumage burned through the mist like hot coals.