The Rainforest Journal: Outing #16 – Day 5

(Thursday 18-December-2014)


Pretty hot day today, and having spend the last five days unwashed in my mankey, grimey, stinky clothes I reckon tomorrow is going to be wash day. I imagine this is what a skunk smells like.

Speaking of filth; I’m periodically stunning flies again today with my trusty microfiber cleaning cloth, when I think to myself,  “Bro you’re getting pretty fuckin good at this.”, and indeed I am getting very good at this. I’m talking Crouching-tiger-grade shit; No sooner does some smart-arse fly buzz-on-in than I’ve got his dumb arse twitching on the floor and then it’s straight to the sticky-trap for a few days of kicking the air with his mates. There’s another one right now, hang on..

My fly-slapper. $1 at all major supermarkets, it's too soft to ever squish them, so they're always alive to fully appreciate the sticky-trap.

My fly-slapper. $1 at all major supermarkets, it’s too soft to ever squish them, so they’re always alive to fully appreciate the sticky-trap.

Anyway, I’m just slapping the crap outta flies today when I hear a noise that gets my attention. Now most of the time, when you stick a fly on fly-paper it just, well, kicks it’s legs around; like a turtle on its back. But every so often you get a rebel; a fly that just won’t accept that the situation is officially hopeless, and suffer in meek silence.

Ordinarily I wouldn’t bother to do anything, and most likely would not have noticed this time if this one whiney little bitch had’ve just shuddup and accepted that he was now kaput, but he wouldn’t, and so I opened the mp3 recorder on my phone and took his last words..

This is what the fly had to say..

I know, I’m sick.

Now, I realize flies don’t really have brains; the fact they continue to fly into this tent is proof enough of that, but listening to that ones panicked, squeally, freak-out almost made me feel bad for him. He’s since stopped making any noise now, so there’s no longer any reason to feel bad.


Pied Currawong adult decides which food to take this round.

Pied Currawong adult decides which food to take this round.

The Currawong have been and gone a few times, loading their beaks with whatever grain-based crap I toss out for them, then flying back to the nest to feed chicks, I would assume.


I’ve noticed that while the Crows (or Raven, a distinction I’m yet to settle on since there are Australian Crows with white irises that look pretty much identical to Ravens) always seemed to be accompanied by one of their younger offspring. The Currawong by comparison are most often adults who stop to fill their mouths then fly off.


I love the Currawong. Not just because of their behavior or appearance – and they are pretty adorable, and something I wouldn’t mind going into detail about sometime – but the calls they make throughout the day. Kind’ve harmonic, yet frivolous calls, and they’re opportunistic enough to walk right out front of my door to grab food, and common enough to not be a “rare” sight.


The wind had started to pick up, so it’s nice and cool again and there is nothing to do now but have some coffees and wait for young “Bob” naah, really? Bob the Possum? Bobby. Robert.. to come so I can have my Marsupial-time then go to sleep so I can make my way to the creek tomorrow, get water and wash my skunky shit.

I’d rather wash there, but it’ll be largely dependant on whether that creepy old fucker is lurking about, in which case, washing back here is the preferable option.

I’ll try and get just one good flash photo of err Bobs paw tonight, assuming he comes early enough.

The Rainforest Journal: Outing #16 – Day 5
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Animal-loving cleaner with a parrot.

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