LAKE ST. CLAIR

It's Saturday, September 26, about 10:15 a.m. as I'm writing this (and happy birthday Peter, whenever you happen to read this!), at a computer that the welcoming staff in the Visitor's Centre have made available to me. I arrived on Wednesday afternoon, courtesy of another Peter, Peter Grant of the Parks Service and the WildCare prize, who drove me up. It was good to travel with someone who could tell me about the countryside and history we drove through, and was willing to back up so I could get a good look at the wombat on the verge-- Vombatus ursinus is its Latin name, and the ursinus is apt; its face was exactly like a teddy bear's. Peter also set himself to splitting wood outside "my" house while Ranger Daniel Ferguson gave me a rapid walking tour. When I had seen round, Peter and I settled to a "cuppa" in the living room and a good talk about nature writing. He read me some of his work, including a lovely little piece about seeing a platypus -- by now, of course, I've forgotten where he was when he say it!

The house I'm in is at least twice the size of the Red Hermitage at St. Peter's, where I've stayed for the SK winter colony a couple of time, and it feels palatial, with lovely large windows that open into forest, in part, and from which I've been watching pademelons graze and flame robins dart about brilliantly. It's chilly here, and rain has fallen most of the time, often heavily, so I'm very grateful for the wood-fired heater and Peter's split wood. It's a pleasure to tend the fire, and a greater pleasure to settle into the comfortable chair facing the windows to alternate between staring out the window and at the page of the book I happen to be reading.

Things I forgot: napkins, butter, salt and pepper ... and my computer! Yes, it's true -- when Peter Grant left I set about to unpacking, and only at the end of that did I realize my computer case was missing. I thought it must be still in the back seat of Peter's car, but learned (eventually) that I'd left it on the floor in the garage at Irene's. To make a long story short, I'll have it on Tuesday morning, when Trevor Norris, the senior person here, returns from a meeting in Hobart. In fact, I'm not missing the machine -- though I indulged in a certain panic till I knew where it was -- I have pen and paper, notebooks, many things to read and a huge area to explore.

The Park staff, as I mentioned, are welcoming. The evening I arrived they were going into Derwent Bridge to the hotel for dinner, and invited me to join them. I did, and ate a delicious and generous serving of roast of the day: slices of beef served on a bed of mashed potatoes and lots of crunchy vegetables. Good wine, too, of course, and lots of laughing conversation. I met several other folks there and was folded into the talk. On the drive in we saw lots of wallabys and at least one pademelon at the edges of the road or streaking across it; as we left the parking lot to come back to the park the headlights caught an owl sitting on a stump--it stared at us a moment and then took off, large wings lifting it out of the light.

Other sightings here: Bennett's wallaby (maybe only 1 "t" on Bennett's?) -- including one yesterday in the forest that had a baby's head sticking out of her pouch. It looked like a miniature and slightly raw puppy with its large ears twitching; pademelons as I noted above; black currawongs whose call sounds something like an old-fashioned car horn; several honeyeaters (I've left my list at "home" so can't spell them out now); a green parrot that flew suddenly as I walked yesterday, too quickly to be identified.

There's a good library here in the staff office that I have access to, so I'm adding notes to my bird records. I've borrowed Pete Hay's essays for evening reading--a book I've wanted to read for some time.

I can't describe the way the light shifts and changes here, or especially the particular quality of it when the sun comes through--it's so clear and intense that things seem extra real or extra present. And colours glow. The flame robin, for instance, looks to have a neon breast. And the textures of the trees and shrubs also escape me-- I think "conifer" and then discover I'm not looking at needles, but very slender leaves, rosemary-like, some tiny, some large.