Seasonal changes. There were king tides at the end of last year. The threat of a king tide at night contains the possibility of scary excitement, of floods and carnage, but mid morning, just after a leisurely home-brewed coffee, it rather loses its menace. Me and dog wandered down for a sticky beak. It was indeed impressive, coming right up past Chatham Road bridge. But not menacing.
Strangely, the high tide was matched by very low tides. Is this what happens?
I was late getting out at night, in fact it was almost dark by the time we got to the gasworks. The sun was setting over the Entertainment Centre. You really would think I’d have gotten the hang of lining up my shots by now. I mean, there’s this perfectly straight line going right up and down the middle and still I stuff it up. One of the trillion reasons why I’m not a photographer.
Speaking of the gasworks, there are hardly any rabbits around at the moment. Just before Christmas I found this dead one on the creek bed, which was a bit unusual. An adult, it bore no signs of it being attacked, no pussy, diseased eyes or bleeding nose. Then this one.
There are always dead things, of course, especially in spring and summer.
Spring and early summer is the time of year when all kinds of babies are being born and, as is Nature’s wont, the vast majority don’t make it to adulthood.
These baby trollies hatched recently. Sadly, none of them will every roll freely around the supermarket aisles, gather with the rest of the herd by the checkouts, find a mate and bring new trolley life into the world. It’s tough, the life of a trolley.
This one got caught attempting to cross the creek at high tide. Poor thing.
But the herd moves on. The herd will repopulate in the vast savannahs of Waratah Village, Officeworks and Franklins car park. Many more will come, and many more will fail to cross the …
What AM I going on about? I think my brain’s still on holiday.