Another of our trips north through farming and dry-lands
to where northern mountain ranges rise.
After driving for a few hours we were hungry, so we stopped
in Auburn for lunch at, would you believe it, The House of the
Rising Sun! Well almost, at the Rising Sun anyway. I have
always loved that song and my daughter sings it beautifully.
Onward through rather monotonous country where the main
attraction was the sky,
setting in and we just veged out in our cabin with this cute
little butterfly/moth in the bathroom.
Next morning we discovered the cause of all the bangs on
the window. We had passed through swarms of them on the way,
locusts, bashing their heads in against the glass and providing
free take-aways for the ants who were dismembering them and
carrying them off piece by piece even though before they were
dead!
our cabin, hmm, not exactly prepossessing . . .
a huge flock of Little Corellas on a fly-by in front of the dark
trees at the foot of the mountain, screeching as they flew and
looking for all the world like a swirling snow-storm. Corellas
are white parrots that multiply to plague proportions in grain
growing country. You could hear landholders setting off
gunshots to keep the flock from settling on their trees.
A cloud drifted over the ridge and down the mountainside,
drowning the view and leaving us to spend the rainy day
resting up before continuing our journey.
Xanthorrhoea, locally and most politically incorrectly called a
Black Boy, just before dark. (Enlarge for a better look.)
The lights were just coming on in the little historical town of
Melrose, South Australia.
Some parrots will follow in my birds post to-morrow.
your armchair.
