Dawn Chorus - and The Lotus Eaters

“The Dawn Chorus” - invoking images of small song birds waking to a new day, their melodious notes bringing forth the dawn and slowly awakening mankind to enjoy a new morning. Not in Australia!

On the banks of the Murray River, camping amongst the massive redgums, the Dawn Chorus attacks mankind with a viciousness hard to imagine if one has been brought up on the gentle murmurings of blackbird and thrush. Imagine a herd of one hundred cats – fifty of which simultaneously have their tails stood on by an unforgiving size 14, whilst the other fifty attack each other with uncontrolled ferocity. The ensuing cacophony only goes some way in describing the multi-decibelled impact of the Dawn Chorus Australia Style. The raucousness of the white cockatoos competing with the screeching of a range of different parroty things is certainly a rude wake up call to the new day.

As bird “song” dies down we eventually emerge from the tent to face the new day – and the next assault on our beings – the bush flies! Small, harmless, non-biting insects whose only sin is to swarm over all areas of exposed skin, particularly around ears, nose and eyes and be totally oblivious to all attempts to ward them off. The only solutions are to ignore them (difficult) - stay in the tent and make sure none get in (also difficult) - wear fly-repellant cream (it doesn't work) - or wear a fly mesh (hot, uncomfortable and difficult to read through) Staying inside seems the best option – but eventually calls of nature force one to face ones foes.

Armed with a digging implement, toilet paper and seeking a suitable place to dig a hole is never the best of occupations – and never good whilst accompanied with ones own flying entourage. However things could be worse – and indeed did get worse. A hundred or so flying eyes are bad enough when one is having a squat by the river bank, however it is nothing compared to the mortification felt as ELEVEN Canadian canoes are paddled past with 44 eyes!



When a man's got to go ....... Bloody flies, bloody canoeists

As lunch time rolled round and the thermometer clocked 36C, a light salad was called for. With all food stuffs secured in either the fridge or sealed boxes our lunch was protected from flies and other insect predators – or so we thought! For some unfathomable reason an enormous swarm of tiny ants had decided to take up residence in our plates and cutlery bag and from there some made it into our lunch.

With the light starting to go and the temperature down to a pleasant 28C, the bush flies finally threw in the towel and retired to wherever bush flies retire to at night – it was time to enjoy what was left of the day. Sitting by the Murray with the redgums reflected in the slow flowing river, sipping cold beer and red wine – this was what it was all about, this is why we were in Australia. Two almost simultaneous slaps and the despairing cry of “There's mozzies about!” and it was back in the tent.

And thus was a day the life of the lotus eaters.