A morning walk this drizzly winter means muddied boots from boggy paddocks, and a putrid dog. Login or signup to continue reading Still, every walk is worth it, for body and soul. We are lucky to have generous neighbours, meaning we can walk freely for a good hour across private property.
We usually follow the local creek, now flowing freely, although we notice it carries more silt than sand these days as rural holdings are broken up. Wetter seasons in recent years mean more wildlife. The variety of birds and their number seem to have expanded a lot.
We see multiple new wombat holes and small mobs of kangaroos and wallabies, night travellers, it seems, from the western slopes of Mount Sugarloaf away in the distance. But there are, too, the intruders. The silted creek bed is haven to weeds, while bramble and lantana thrive on the banks.
As ever, there are rabbit scratchings. Foxes are there too, their scent sending our dog into tailspins. The foxes seem more audacious, some say it's the young males pushed out of a long-standing den by older males shoring up their rank.
Away from the creek and its smells are the paddocks, dams with lilies and ducks, pastureland, cows chewing away, casting the odd glance at the dog. The walk home through the paddocks is uphill, and good for the lungs. When the sun is out, you shed a layer of clothing and you stop and look to the south, in awe as sunlight ricochets off the sandstone cliffs of the Watagans, relict of the mighty Mooki Thrust, as ge.
