We have moved hotels from Seminyak to Sanur. I take an evening walk along the beach, with Venus and a crescent moon hanging in the west, the limestone cliffs of Lembongan still visible and white. Warungs and restaurants, the beach and the path—all full of life. There are offerings in places—on the beach, in front of buildings, in doorways, at shrines and temples; a small island of so many offerings to the gods—it makes for a different place. An awareness of the unseen, and of the in-between.
Author Archives: jbstubley
Full Bodied Butcherbird
Some mornings near Gerrungup in North Fremantle, or at Galbamaanup Lake Claremont, or up here on Bold Park I hear the grey butcherbird calling from some far-off, high, cymbolic starry place into this world, filling it with song. And on this day he’s really letting it rip through—full-throated, full-breasted, full-skied, song.
Whadjuk Views
I walk today up by Lesmurdie Falls, the Saturday morning clearsky winter sun coming up over the edge of the ridge as the water timbles down. I climb up and along the ridgeline of the scarp, heading north. And there, on the plan below lit up by the morning sun, all of Perth—all of Whadjuk Country—spread out below and beyond. From the line of the hills that extends all the way north—following it towards Moore River I fancy—with the coast up there and the suburbs reaching; then looking back down along those rooftops and the ocean beyond, towards the buildings of the city, and the river that runs from beyond the hills I stand on, and comes snaking slowly across it all, meeting there, by the city’s feet, the other river coming in from the south and east, the Doomben Helena in between, joining the Swan near Guildford—all the streams and wetlands and lakes, all that water underneath. Then the flow of things towards and from the port of Fremantle, all the green of Kings Park and Bold Park, and all that’s left in the suburban in-between—the industry of Kwinana, and Serpentine lakes and river wanderings beyond Rockingham towards Mandurah, and of course those islands—Meandip Garden almost touching the tip of Preston Point, making something like a bay, then noolyamia Carnac Island, rocks, Wadjemup Rottnest, and all the water in between. Whadjuk country. All the streams of it—seen and unseen—felt—revealing themselves when there are organs to see.
Shoes and Dolphins
Walking far today on a new pair of shoes, feeling them on every step—their differences from usualness, including an arch too high…I think I’ll take them back, Then, out of the corner of the eye, as if to remind me, four to five dolphins go passing by, with two younger ones jumping clear out of the water, sometimes landing on their backs.
Quenda and Cooli
At the edge of the lake, between water and sedges and rushes and reeds, lives cooli the buff banded rail, and quenda the southern brown bandicoot. How similar they look: one with a long beak and short legs, wings folded back, rarely flying, mostly running—a kind of orangey and zebra black and white; the other with a long snout, strong back legs and short front ones (that it kind of hop-rests on), all browny black. They are both about the same size, both a very similar form, both living in this same zone by the lake’s edge; both fashioned by this same place, and fashioning it.
Turtle
Sitting on the jetty at the southern end of the lake: the sun is out. Suddenly there’s a break in the still surface water and something is poking through—a stick? Then I see it moving. I search for the corresponding concept. The small head of a long-necked turtle, and it’s gulping air. It then looks right at me…and goes quickly back under.
Shelducks and Raptors
Two shelducks in a mating dance, and shoo-ing kwirlam the swamphen. A bit later, all birds scatter and go on alert—wardong the crow is noisy in the trees; magpies too. Then a white bird flies out—a black shouldered kite?
If the Shoo Fits
At the lake today two swans dance near the gazebo—one breaks off to shoo a third swan away. Manatj the white corella shoos off a flock of small ducks—hard to see at this distance—most likely teals. Some other manatj swoop the purple swamphen. Even more manatj sit atop a dead tree within the lake. And then I see the faint hint of a turtle below the water. And, nearby, a male musk duck.
Birds of Water Levels
I notice that the early shovelers have gone from the lake as the water gets higher, while kadar the musk duck has arrived, diving down. With all this grass come many swans. Pacific black ducks and coots are here or there; the coots diving sometimes. Swamphens, rails, egrets rest or look for food on the side.
Musk
Sitting lower in the water, more fishlike, darker, rounder head, sleeker body, diving down sleekly like a rounded spear, or like water in water: the first musk duck of the winter season—the water deep enough now for diving of this kind. The bill is without the flap of the male. Female kadar.
John Stubley 