WATERHOLES 2 : FRUIT BATS & CROCODILES

WATERHOLES 2: FRUIT BATS & CROCODILES   

Saltwater Crocodiles.

We’ve stayed at several bush camps up in the Gulf Country which claimed to be where the  much-loved  film Crocodile Dundee was shot, and each time the stories got taller and the crocodile longer.

However, the Saltwater Crocodile doesn’t get its evil reputation for nothing. They are formidable, cunning, patient and intelligent. Every year the North can tell of a sprinkling of narrow-escapes, and of limbs and occasionally lives lost by the unsuspecting, unwary or complacent.

'Saltie' on the watch. Taken from a boat in the Kakadu National Park, Northern Territory.

  

Nor are they restricted to salt water. They occur all round the coast of N. Australia from Broome in the NW to well down the Queensland coast, and not only in salt water but in estuaries and thence up rivers, into billabongs waterholes and swamps inland.

 

Freshwater (Johnson’s) Crocodile

This smaller species, growing to about 6 feet and less than half the size of a ‘saltie’ are  common in the freshwaters all around the north of Australia. Again, they are the top predator of smaller birds and animals but are said not to attack people. They are wary and shy.

 

'Freshie'

Approaching Napier Range and Winjana Gorge.

 Winjana Gorge from the log: “We pulled into the official campsite among the scattered gums in the middle of the day. A long Black-headed Python wriggled across the track ahead of us. 

 

Black-headed Python.

 

A long -drop dunny.

 

The site was deserted, the ablutions closed, only one long-drop dunny was useable and the usual wood supply by the fire-pit was reduced to a handful of bark scraps. Up-side, no honesty box and no Ranger to collect a fee!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After setting up camp in the thin shade of a wispy tree we walked down into the gorge through a cleft among a great tumble of huge boulders. This is where the Lennard River has cut a gorge through the limestone of the Napier Range. A gathering of bugs were aestivating on the leaf of a creeper and just beyond, a Blue Argus butterfly basked in the sun as we came out to the wide, flat bottom of the gorge, heaped with low domed sandbanks and a sizeable waterhole.

Bugs sheltering from the summer heat.

 

 

Blue Argus butterfly.

The Lennard River is reduced to a series of waterholes in the gorge in the summer.

 

On the other side was a thicket of Melaleucas with a crowded throng of Flying Foxes  -- Little Reds  -- They were draped along the arching branches in an irritable mass, stretching their wings, shuffling, squabbling and now and then taking off. It was as if they were too hot and crowded. You could smell their stench from 50 yards away.

 

Flying Foxes roosting.

 

 

 

Little Red Flying Fox.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Now and then one swooped down to the water below to dip its chest and then flew back up to the colony or ‘camp’ to get a grip with its toes and turn head down to groom and sip droplets of moisture from its fur.

 

Fruit Bat flying down to dip in the water below the roost.

 

 Six or seven ‘freshies’ were lurking in the still green water, waiting for a bat to plunge close enough to grab. We watched many such plunges and lunges, but didn’t see a catch.

 

Like a log floating in the water, a 'Freshie' lurking, hoping for a catch.

Further along, a Darter was standing on the far shore, wings outstretched to dry like a Cormorant on the rocks at home. It was being stealthily stalked by a small freshie in the water behind it, but the water was too shallow and the freshie broke surface and alarmed the darter before it was in reach.

Driving in, we crossed the Lennard river before it went into the gorge and we stopped on the bridge to look down into the water below. It was a deep pool, lit by shafts of sun and looked clear, like very weak tea without milk.. Several young  freshies, no more than a foot long, were hanging, tail down, suspended  motionless in the water.

The adults we saw down in the gorge sunning themselves on the sandbanks were no more than about six feet long. They were very wary and quickly got up on their cranked legs and slid into the water and disappeared. Now and then a snout and top of the back appeared, like a bit of floating log.

Picking up armfuls of dead branches we went back to camp. It had been like an oven in the gorge. We made a smoky fire. The bush flies were bad . We didn’t want much to eat but we drank till we were bloated.”

Later, from log: “Sitting out in the last of the light under an opalescent sky. The flies, especially bad up here, have gone to bed. And then the Little Reds started. They must have been the ones from the camp in the gorge.  For about twenty minutes they flitted silently in a stream overhead, fanning out across the savannah beyond in the gathering darkness.  I wonder how far  they had to go to find sufficient flower nectar or pollen to feed that great number?"

 

Flying away from roost at twilight

Tunnel Creek.

2 days later “Pulled out from Winjana. Still no Ranger. Stopped to have a look at Tunnel Creek. A river has tunnelled through the ancient reef limestone of the Napier Range.

 

 

Savannah and Napier Range, an ancient reef of coralline limestone,once under the sea.

Taking torches and candles  --  belt & braces  --   we followed the stream into the entrance at the base of the precipitous rock face. We picked our way between big boulders and shallow puddles  till we came to a sort of amphitheatre where  long ago there had been a roof fall. Open to the sky high above, some light filtered down and we could see a large murky pool stretching right across with steepish muddy banks. We waded in. It got to thigh deep but to my relief, no more. Freshies must have been on the banks and we heard them splashing into the water but couldn’t see them. T. & K said I was hanging onto them VERY tight! But, living up to their reputation, the freshies didn’t grab us! Further on, we emerged into the bright white light into a grove of trees at the far end.

Pool below ancient roof-fall in the middle of Tunnel Creek.

Emerging from far end of Tunnel Creek.

We poked around a bit but I was in a rush to go back; I wasn’t relishing the return journey so wanted to get it over and done.”

 

Whew! We've done it!

Douglas Hot Springs.

 From log….It’s good sometimes to revisit a place you liked, to get more out of it.  Though it doesn’t always pay to try and repeat a success. We chanced it this time as we wanted to show it to Kim, following our visit in ’92. It is a jumble of marshy pools, open water and billabongs among  the savannah and pandanus. The water steamed, bubbled and the hotter pools looked scummy and smelt sulphurous. 

 

Steaming hot pool at Gregory Hot Springs.

 

 

Rahjah or White- headed Shelduck, otherwise called Burdekin.

 On our previous visit we had watched a couple of  drake Rahjah Shelduck fighting furiously till they fell into the water still interlocked and wings beating. They went on fighting and squawking till they disentangled and flew up and away. We expected them to be par-boiled with damaged feathers and lost toe-nails but they seemed OK!

Abundant dragonflies, some of them exquisite.

 

 

Some of the pools were hot and scummy; some clean, fresh and tempting. I'm under my hat on the right!

 On this visit with Kim she seemed suitably impressed. After tea she and Tony went lamping along the waterhole behind our camp. They quickly came back to fetch me, with talk of ‘shining green eyes’ lit up in the torch beams.

The next day, still suffering from the heat Kim and I took to the water.

From our log: “ Bliss! We just lay and wallowed. It was like tepid bathwater. Perfect! Only our heads and hats showed. We were so still and quiet the birds came down from the bushes and several freshies appeared like floating pieces of wood, just beyond where the waterhole curved away from us. We didn’t want to get out, though when the freshies sank as quietly as they’d appeared, we did wonder whether they were swimming towards or away from us!”

 

Kim never stopped drawing.

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