Outing #20: Days 5-12

This will be mainly a photo-post, since – outside of the rain – there’s not that much different been going on for the past few days.

The Possums have been well behaved, I haven’t heard a single gnawing sound from the rats, and whenever the sun comes out Broeski follows.

Oh man this one fucking blow fly outside the tent is fucking pissing me of to my limits. Hang on.

Fucking fuck I hate those persistent blow-flies; they just huzz around the outside of the tent *relentlessly* .. For an hour at a time starting and stopping, starting and stopping, start, stop, start, stop.

Anyway Broeski has been making himself at home as usual, and, since I’ve started closing the tent door when I read, hadn’t had a chance to try for another bite at my person; though he still tries to scratch his way through the fabric.

Be nice fried with a bit of salt and pepper; a tail as thick as that.

Be nice fried with a bit of salt and pepper; a tail as thick as that.

Wild Goanna sleeping; uh? uh? Let's see them dickhead 'herpetologists' with their poor, dead-spirited captive animals get a fucking photo like this of an actual wild reptilian this relaxed. /spits @ reptile keepers.

Wild Goanna sleeping; uh? uh? Let’s see them dickhead ‘herpetologists’ with their poor, dead-spirited captive animals get a fucking photo like this of an actual wild reptilian this relaxed. /spits @ reptile keepers.

An Eastern Tiger Snake I had to wait for while walking to get water. Though it's only a 4-footer, the much more aggressive reputation they have, combined with the way it just sat there - itching to spin around and fang something - told be that about 3 meters was quite close enough.

An Eastern Tiger Snake I had to wait for while walking to get water. Though it’s only a 4-footer, the much more aggressive reputation they have, combined with the way it just sat there – itching to spin around and fang something – told be that about 3 meters was quite close enough.

I saw the above snake on my way getting water just like with the Red-bellied Black a few weeks ago. They obviously hang on the dirt fire trail because it gets more sun than the shaded first areas.

This time though, I’ve been walking along – nice as you please – when I hear voices from a few hundred meters behind me. I don’t give a shit of course; I’ve felt like just another animal in the National Park for so many months now, I find it amusing to recall how paranoid I used to get of other homo-sapiens. Why, back in the day, I even hid behind trees or crouched in the bushes when I heard anything that was not a natural forest sound approaching; I kinda liked it though, to be honest. Knowing I can just crouch and be still, and that nobody will see me unless I flag their attention with motion. Quite fun really. Until you think about what you’re doing and the anti-social ramifications of such behavior, at which point it becomes pretty fuckin hilarious, and I have to stifle a laughing fit.

Anyhow I’m babbling a bit. Where was I? Yeah right: The bushwalkers approaching from behind. I don’t give a drip of rat-snot anymore who sees me because after so long, and so much time out there it is now they who are the tourists. Even locals who go out with all their ultra-light shit every weekend are tourists compared to me; I am a part of the fuckin’ forest now.

And on this particular day, it was the very people I mentioned above who happened to come shuffling up the mountain towards me: skinny old farts with skin as thin as wet toilet paper hanging from their scraggy old bones. You wouldn’t have known the woman with them was in fact a woman save for the fact she was the only one there who’s hair was uniformly died a mousy-shit-brown and permed: all the makes were completely grey and obviously didn’t see much point in maintaining such fakery.

Anyway, I started telling them about the animals I’ve been feeding, then showed the bite on my bout where Broeski sliced the leather and they start doing some kind of grandparent-like “we know better than you about the animals” shit – which of clear they don’t – anyhoo, they annoyed me a little, but what can you do? I’m not about to walk slower than them simply so they would walk past, nor am I going to sweat more than I have to just to keep ahead of them, so I had to walk with them.

Pfft I’m on a train trying to finish this off and just too distracted to do much more than spew badly-written shit, so I’ll stop bothering.

Outing #21 starts Monday anyways.

Just some random-page-filler-snap of some ferns. Why not right?

Just some random-page-filler-snap of some ferns. Why not right?

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Ankle-deep in oats: Guido demonstrates that even dry, uncooked rolled oats really are better than nothing.

Ankle-deep in oats: Guido demonstrates that even dry, uncooked rolled oats really are better than nothing.

Last two months or so I've been taking fresh tomatoes down and, although not all the Possums like them - Bobby to be specific - the ones that do have eaten them really. A few days ago I'm out just pissing on the Ants when I see a cluster of these at the base of a bloodwood tree; half a dozen little tomato seedlings. I was astonished, of course, so to be sure I run one up and, stunned with awe, I find they do indeed have that distinct tomato-stem smell, and ate indeed tomatoes.

Last two months or so I’ve been taking fresh tomatoes down and, although not all the Possums like them – Bobby to be specific – the ones that do have eaten them really. A few days ago I’m out just pissing on the Ants when I see a cluster of these at the base of a bloodwood tree; half a dozen little tomato seedlings. I was astonished, of course, so to be sure I run one up and, stunned with awe, I find they do indeed have that distinct tomato-stem smell, and are indeed tomatoes.

Once I’d got back to town yesterday – and after the usual 2-hour ear raping – I took Alice to lunch. We had champaign duck with salad and these carved carrots in the shape of animals were brought to the table on her insistence. She thought they were just fucking awesomez amazing works of art of course, but I – having started my day at sunrise, walking up a mountain with no food in my stomach at all, done all the shit I usually have to do when I get back to town then having listened to her pent-up monolog about allllllll the people being so mean to her – well, I was pretty tired at this point; told her, they’re just carrots Babe they’re great, but they’re just fuckin carrots. …

Fast forward to dinner time – and the spaghetti she was meant to cook for me, since I was so dead-on-my-feet tired, by some miracle ended-up being the spaghetti *I* cooked for *her*. You believe that shit?

Outing #20: Days 5-12
Rate in Guidos

Jason
Animal-loving cleaner with a parrot.

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