Australian Adventures Part V - The Australia Zoo
Exploring Australia has been a unique experience in many ways. On some levels, the similarity in language, culture, and even shopping venues makes it all too easy to assimilate back in to something resembling home. At the same time, there's subtle details that remind me how far out I am, and even more glaring differences that present the fact that this continent is a world unto its own.
Flying in to Brisbane, I encountered a city that reminded me much of Nashville: the verdant green hills surrounding it, the buildings of the down town, the river that ran its course lazily through the center (though I daresay the Brisbane river is cleaner than the Cumberland). I was met at the airport by a local friend who was courteous enough to show me around the place. Being deeper up the coast than Sydney, Brisbane's climate resembles something more along the lines of Mexico, not quite tropical, but very very close. As in Sydney, lush plants grow in all the gardens, line the streets, and rise up out of the hills. Despite this, the dense population of the Eastern coasts has caused numerous water shortages in many of the regions. Further south in New South Wales and Victoria, over use of the massive Murray-Darling river has caused it to dry out, an event that was formerly seasonal, but has now become constant. There is even some concern that overuse of the watercourses could lead to a permanent drought in many areas within the divide between the desert outback and the lush coast.
The next day, Tuesday the 20th, we went for a drive out to Steve Irwin country - the much lauded Australian zoo. According to some of the travel literature and hearsay, the Australia zoo was a singularly dynamic event that required my attentions. If nothing else, the expensive ticket ($53 AUD) would at least be put to good use. The foundation set up by Steve and his american wife, Terri, has gone on to conservation efforts around the globe, including purchasing some of the last remnants of rainforest in Indonesia. These forests are particularly threatened, despite a government halt to logging, due to illegal efforts that are ignored due to corruption within the authorities normally charged with protecting the land. Considering the incredible diversity in the Southeast Asian rainforests, especially many of the islands which possess unique ecological biodiversity, these programs are well worth an exploratory expedition to the zoo of the famous "Crocodile Hunter."
The road enroute to the zoo (the Steve Irwin Highway) is quite a drive in and of itself. The area is home to much of the bush forest unique to coastal Australia, the tracts of land inhabited by Eucalyptus trees of varying species, that thrive in the warm climate and middle-ground of water content - not quite rainforest, but not yet desert. Evidence of this is in the volcanic plugs of the Glass House Mountains, and more on that later. Suffice to say, it was well worth the drive just to see the incredible scenery. There were groves of mangoes, papayas (pawpaws), and pineapple - which I didn't realize wasn't a tree crop, but a shrub that grew close to the ground. There were also stands of trees that had been planted after much of the native forest was cleared away by early settlers. The Caribbean and Slash pines native to my own country were grown here by farming/logging industries, some of them state-owned. Unfortunately, constant wildfires have cut away at much of the crop. Although I can't say I'm entirely displeased by that, the acres and acres of uniform pine groves are startlingly apparent in contrast to the native forests, living in tiny isolated islands in the higher ground of the Glass House Mountains.
Arriving at the Australia zoo, we pioneered amongst the throngs of parents and their innumerable progeny, and dove in to the experience formed by the late naturalist and animal planet tv show host. No disrespect intended to Steve Irwin. Many Australians loved him dearly, especially following his untimely death, though others still roll their eyes at his antics. According to my friend, it wasn't for show at all, he was the genuine article. He'd get so excited about everything that it drove the rest of the Australians batty. But it was this same enthusiasm that led to the creation of one of the most incredible zoological parks I have ever visited. It wasn't just the sheer expanse and plethora of animals, both Australian and international. But it was also the commitment to the Irwins' own ideals in the functioning of the park itself. Park staff were present around every corner to answer questions and even showcase different animals in the most accessible ways possible. Their entire goal was to help their conservation efforts through education. I couldn't agree more, many of the problems we face today in the world, of any subject, are caused simply by sheer ignorance. If you can help people to understand what you're trying to accomplish and why, then you can do much more good, even if they don't necessarily agree with you.
The zoo is designed in such a way as to make the animals available for public viewing, but also give them much needed privacy from the overexposure. All the enclosures are very open. So even if there's a double fence again the crocs, you could still get an unobstructed view, unlike some places with mile high bars surrounding them. Or, as in the case of some of the beautiful australian wading birds, the paths wind through the entirety of the enclosure. The area is so natural you sometimes could forget you're in an artificial environment. In other cases, the enclosures are only the temporary "day" paddocks for the animals. For example, the Indian elephants are taken out of their day habitat after the zoo encloses. But instead of smaller indoor pens, the elephants are allowed to free range in acres of land out back, then walked back to the zoo in the early morning. Now, at some points it does feel like a circus. The only real draw-back to the zoo is that many of the animals are also trained to interact with the public for the various shows used in the "education" process. Animal-rights activists would HATE to see that, considering their positions on captivity in general. At the same time, considering that the animals are in captivity anyway, the "games" that they are involved in actually do seem to enhance their psychology. Instead of just laying around in an enclosure, they have an opportunity to engage in stimuli, almost like animal exercise. This, of course, is not universal. Many of the animals in the zoo are actually rescues - animals that were brought in due to injury in the wild, and are only awaiting re-release. For example, a whole host of kookaburras (relatives of kingfishers) and frogmouths (look like owls, but aren't) live in one open enclosure where you could almost touch them! However, the reason the enclosure is open is because all of them were injured in collisions with cars, and have lost the ability to fly. Considering these efforts, I can overlook some of the comedy in the zoo's shows. And all the same, its these events that draw the large crowds, provide the educational opportunities, and rake in the cash for the conservation programs. I think alot of places would do well to consider the Australia Zoo for some tips.
At the zoo, I also had the chance to see many native Australian wildlife that I'd otherwise miss out on in my travels. The tasmanian devils were surprisingly active (despite being a little fierce in their crushing jaw-strength). I saw a whole host of crocodiles, which were no doubt sunning themselves after another thwarted effort at devouring their trainers in the public shows. The snake exhibit showed all of Australia's cute pythons and deadly venomous snakes (except the sea-snake). Of the worlds 25 most venomous snake species, 15 live in Australia. I saw the Jabiru - an Australian stork that has a blue head and neck, and the adorable wombats. I wanted one as a pet, they are probably the cutest of the Australian animals, more so than the wallabies. Kangaroos were present in force, as were the koalas, which were all resting from a hard night of drinking and partying, and looked one ear-twitch short of being a charlatan's taxidermy efforts. There were also emus (which make delicious sausage), Indian tigers, giant tortoises, american alligators, an aviary filled with incredible birds, and one of my favorites, the Cassowary.
The cassowary is a bizarre animal. A member of the ratites, large flightless birds found only in southern hemisphere continents, such as rheas of South America, ostriches of Africa, fellow Australian emus, and the now extinct Elephant birds of Madagascar and Moas of New Zealand, the cassowary is still a family unto itself. Its plumage is a glossy black, it has an enormous rock-like protrusion on its head, a blue and red skin coloring for its face and neck, and particularly nasty claws which it uses to pulverize intruders in to its hidden rainforest kingdom. In particularly fond note, the cassowary is a poster-bird for the modern elasticity of gender roles in parenting. In order to propagate the species as quickly as possible, the female lays not one, but three clutches of eggs a year. Now, she'd never accomplish that if she had to raise them all herself, so instead, she grows bigger than all the males and takes a different mate each time, having up to three boyfriends in one period. Her boyfriends, however, are stuck with the clutches. Each time finishes laying, she leaves the eggs with the mate, and the father is now responsible for incubating and hatching his progeny. Not only that, but for about 18 months he's now tied with rearing the youngsters until they're old enough to follow suit, the boys to being haggard fathers, the girls to having a wonderful time helping to sustain the survivability of a dwindling species. The cassowary is also a singularly important animal in its ecological role. It lives in a unique rainforest environment that has been around 125 million years. Thus, many of the species in this environment have co-evolved over time. Primary among them are the fruit trees. The trees of many of the forests in the tropical and wet northern York peninsula and the island of Papua New Guinea are possessed of enormous fruit similar to avocados or mangoes that have a massive central stone, but unlike their relatives, are not particularly nice to eat. Not only that, but a membrane encases the stone of these seeds that does not dissolve on its own. If the fruit falls and is left to rot, the seed won't propagate. However, if it passes through the digestive enzymes of a cassowary stomach, not only does is the stone now open to germination, it is also now buried in a nutritiously beneficial mound of cassowary poo. Unfortunately, this evolutionary advantage will be lost if the remaining 1500 cassowaries left in the wild die out (which they are dangerously close to doing, the cassowary population is still in decline, despite conservation of their rainforests. Despite pigs also eating their eggs, the cassowaries only natural predator is oncoming cars. This has led to a number of "cassowary crossing" signs going up all over northern Queensland. This is not enough, however. You see, cassowary collisions aren't due to the "bird brained" antics of the remarkably intelligent adult birds (they're smart enough to evade busloads of bush tourists, after-all). Apparently the deaths are all due to juveniles. You see, the young cassowaries devour gullets full of fruit just like their fathers taught them. But the sensitive chemistry of a cassowary metabolism takes some time to figure out the problem of alcohol. You see, if you filled your belly full of fruit, but didn't immediately digest it, alot of that sugar would just ferment, leading to a belly full of 80 proof Australian bush liquor. The younger cassowaries get drunk, need to find a nice place to lie down, and lo and behold, the middle of an asphalt road is a nice warm place to sit while recovering from a killer hang-over. Without time to react, they encounter another drunken Cane Toad (Australian nickname for Queenslanders) barreling down the highway at full tilt and BLAMMO, endangered roadkill. With an average of 10 cassowaries killed by this method every year, the females either need some major aphrodisiacs, or we're running in to an oncoming extinction. It doesn't help that captive breeding efforts have largely failed. Like me, the cassowary females are remarkably picky when presented with wonderful dating options, and their greater size and attitude doesn't help the smaller males in any courting dances. To make matters worse, the rainforest fruit trees mentioned earlier that depend on the cassowaries for propagation will likely die out as well, accounting for as many as 40 different species of trees. If all those tree species are gone, that will lead to the demise of countless epiphytes that depend on the trees for survival in rainforest canopy, which goes on and on. Its possible that a great portion of the rainforest biodiversity will be lost simply due to the death of one special bird. Will the rainforest still survive and adapt? Possibly. But it'll kill the tourism industry of Queensland. Not mention result a significant drop in the watershed for the region, which in turn will cause massive droughts countrywide, which pose big problems for Australians in general. So! My solution? Simple. If you're ever in Queensland 1) shoot a pig, shoot several pigs, and donate them to feed the homeless 2) don't drive drunk 3) visit the Australia zoo. And if you're a fan of Sex In the City, PLEASE help those female cassowaries in captivity find a few good fathers to do the job.
The Australia zoo was a great experience as a whole. I still think that the North Carolina Zoological Park in Asheboro is a better facility, and presents a greater variety of animals. However, the NC park could learn from the Australian enclosures, and probably from their marketing techniques as well. Even the camp of the "Croc" show was worth it for the guy swimming in a pool with a giant python, the macaws and cockatoos flying through the crowd, and Albert, the friendly saltwater crocodile, ignoring the bits of chicken provided him and going straight for his hapless trainer. Its just not the same without Steve (who, by the way, has a bronze statue in tribute). I did enjoy my Australian burger. It was another unusual dining experience. The burger patty was a dense ball of meat. It held the requisite lettuce, tomato, and "special sauce," complete with a slice of beet (wtf??? when did BEETS become a popular vegetable?), fennel, ham, fried egg, and sprouts. It doesn't help either that their ketchup (excuse me, toe-MAHHH-toe sauce) tastes more like brown sugar. I found some packets of Heinz later on in the Cairns airport and dumped the bowl in my backpack. Despite the Aussie peculiarities, I do think Australian cuisine is divine. Now, what other kinds of bush tucker might I be able to discover?
On the drive back from the Australia zoo, we had the chance to check out the Glass House Mountains, a set of national parks nestled in the embrace of cleared land and farming. The Glass House Mountains are testaments to the ancient geology of Australia. They resemble Pilot Mountain, a famous peak near the I-40/I-85 stretch of North Carolina, though I don't know if they have the same rock history. The Glass House Mountains began as volcanos, about 25 million years ago, making them fairly young. Over time, the rain and wind of the region eroded them down to just the inner plugs, which are spectacular rock peaks that jut out of the ground in sheer cylindrical columns, showing an array of colorful stone, and even caves etched in to their faces. The name for the mountains doesn't have anything to do with the famous saying, though I wouldn't want to stand on the top of one and throw a bunch of stones down either, they're pretty precarious. It actually came from Our Dear Captain Cook, the explorer who named most of the Eastern Coast. While trekking further inland, he saw the mountains, though never climbed them. That was left to other explorers later on (they're sheer climbs, but not very high, all under 1km in height. Cook named them as such, because they resembled the glass making furnaces of England in their shape. You can even see smoke billowing out from them sometimes, though that's usually due to the brushfires in the area.
I had a good time hiking in the park, including all the beautiful scenery. The forests were full of eucalyptus and evergreen trees. At one point, I even saw a 3 foot goanna (an Australian monitor lizard) clambor up a nearby tree. We searched for koalas in the overhanging trees, but this only led us to walking in to spider webs. Lots of them. Normally I can live with spiders, but Australian orb weavers are much larger than the North American varieties, painted an angry orange and blue. One mother was bigger than my outstretched hand! Fortunately, they were decent enough to build most of their webs either off the path, or high enough up that I could walk under them. They didn't look too keen on jumping down on me either, so I walked in guarded security. There was an abundance of butterflies, and a few mosquitos, though not too many, and the weather was warm and sunny. A beautiful temperature for January, in my opinion. I really like spending winter in Australia.
Flying in to Brisbane, I encountered a city that reminded me much of Nashville: the verdant green hills surrounding it, the buildings of the down town, the river that ran its course lazily through the center (though I daresay the Brisbane river is cleaner than the Cumberland). I was met at the airport by a local friend who was courteous enough to show me around the place. Being deeper up the coast than Sydney, Brisbane's climate resembles something more along the lines of Mexico, not quite tropical, but very very close. As in Sydney, lush plants grow in all the gardens, line the streets, and rise up out of the hills. Despite this, the dense population of the Eastern coasts has caused numerous water shortages in many of the regions. Further south in New South Wales and Victoria, over use of the massive Murray-Darling river has caused it to dry out, an event that was formerly seasonal, but has now become constant. There is even some concern that overuse of the watercourses could lead to a permanent drought in many areas within the divide between the desert outback and the lush coast.
The next day, Tuesday the 20th, we went for a drive out to Steve Irwin country - the much lauded Australian zoo. According to some of the travel literature and hearsay, the Australia zoo was a singularly dynamic event that required my attentions. If nothing else, the expensive ticket ($53 AUD) would at least be put to good use. The foundation set up by Steve and his american wife, Terri, has gone on to conservation efforts around the globe, including purchasing some of the last remnants of rainforest in Indonesia. These forests are particularly threatened, despite a government halt to logging, due to illegal efforts that are ignored due to corruption within the authorities normally charged with protecting the land. Considering the incredible diversity in the Southeast Asian rainforests, especially many of the islands which possess unique ecological biodiversity, these programs are well worth an exploratory expedition to the zoo of the famous "Crocodile Hunter."
The road enroute to the zoo (the Steve Irwin Highway) is quite a drive in and of itself. The area is home to much of the bush forest unique to coastal Australia, the tracts of land inhabited by Eucalyptus trees of varying species, that thrive in the warm climate and middle-ground of water content - not quite rainforest, but not yet desert. Evidence of this is in the volcanic plugs of the Glass House Mountains, and more on that later. Suffice to say, it was well worth the drive just to see the incredible scenery. There were groves of mangoes, papayas (pawpaws), and pineapple - which I didn't realize wasn't a tree crop, but a shrub that grew close to the ground. There were also stands of trees that had been planted after much of the native forest was cleared away by early settlers. The Caribbean and Slash pines native to my own country were grown here by farming/logging industries, some of them state-owned. Unfortunately, constant wildfires have cut away at much of the crop. Although I can't say I'm entirely displeased by that, the acres and acres of uniform pine groves are startlingly apparent in contrast to the native forests, living in tiny isolated islands in the higher ground of the Glass House Mountains.
Arriving at the Australia zoo, we pioneered amongst the throngs of parents and their innumerable progeny, and dove in to the experience formed by the late naturalist and animal planet tv show host. No disrespect intended to Steve Irwin. Many Australians loved him dearly, especially following his untimely death, though others still roll their eyes at his antics. According to my friend, it wasn't for show at all, he was the genuine article. He'd get so excited about everything that it drove the rest of the Australians batty. But it was this same enthusiasm that led to the creation of one of the most incredible zoological parks I have ever visited. It wasn't just the sheer expanse and plethora of animals, both Australian and international. But it was also the commitment to the Irwins' own ideals in the functioning of the park itself. Park staff were present around every corner to answer questions and even showcase different animals in the most accessible ways possible. Their entire goal was to help their conservation efforts through education. I couldn't agree more, many of the problems we face today in the world, of any subject, are caused simply by sheer ignorance. If you can help people to understand what you're trying to accomplish and why, then you can do much more good, even if they don't necessarily agree with you.
The zoo is designed in such a way as to make the animals available for public viewing, but also give them much needed privacy from the overexposure. All the enclosures are very open. So even if there's a double fence again the crocs, you could still get an unobstructed view, unlike some places with mile high bars surrounding them. Or, as in the case of some of the beautiful australian wading birds, the paths wind through the entirety of the enclosure. The area is so natural you sometimes could forget you're in an artificial environment. In other cases, the enclosures are only the temporary "day" paddocks for the animals. For example, the Indian elephants are taken out of their day habitat after the zoo encloses. But instead of smaller indoor pens, the elephants are allowed to free range in acres of land out back, then walked back to the zoo in the early morning. Now, at some points it does feel like a circus. The only real draw-back to the zoo is that many of the animals are also trained to interact with the public for the various shows used in the "education" process. Animal-rights activists would HATE to see that, considering their positions on captivity in general. At the same time, considering that the animals are in captivity anyway, the "games" that they are involved in actually do seem to enhance their psychology. Instead of just laying around in an enclosure, they have an opportunity to engage in stimuli, almost like animal exercise. This, of course, is not universal. Many of the animals in the zoo are actually rescues - animals that were brought in due to injury in the wild, and are only awaiting re-release. For example, a whole host of kookaburras (relatives of kingfishers) and frogmouths (look like owls, but aren't) live in one open enclosure where you could almost touch them! However, the reason the enclosure is open is because all of them were injured in collisions with cars, and have lost the ability to fly. Considering these efforts, I can overlook some of the comedy in the zoo's shows. And all the same, its these events that draw the large crowds, provide the educational opportunities, and rake in the cash for the conservation programs. I think alot of places would do well to consider the Australia Zoo for some tips.
At the zoo, I also had the chance to see many native Australian wildlife that I'd otherwise miss out on in my travels. The tasmanian devils were surprisingly active (despite being a little fierce in their crushing jaw-strength). I saw a whole host of crocodiles, which were no doubt sunning themselves after another thwarted effort at devouring their trainers in the public shows. The snake exhibit showed all of Australia's cute pythons and deadly venomous snakes (except the sea-snake). Of the worlds 25 most venomous snake species, 15 live in Australia. I saw the Jabiru - an Australian stork that has a blue head and neck, and the adorable wombats. I wanted one as a pet, they are probably the cutest of the Australian animals, more so than the wallabies. Kangaroos were present in force, as were the koalas, which were all resting from a hard night of drinking and partying, and looked one ear-twitch short of being a charlatan's taxidermy efforts. There were also emus (which make delicious sausage), Indian tigers, giant tortoises, american alligators, an aviary filled with incredible birds, and one of my favorites, the Cassowary.
The cassowary is a bizarre animal. A member of the ratites, large flightless birds found only in southern hemisphere continents, such as rheas of South America, ostriches of Africa, fellow Australian emus, and the now extinct Elephant birds of Madagascar and Moas of New Zealand, the cassowary is still a family unto itself. Its plumage is a glossy black, it has an enormous rock-like protrusion on its head, a blue and red skin coloring for its face and neck, and particularly nasty claws which it uses to pulverize intruders in to its hidden rainforest kingdom. In particularly fond note, the cassowary is a poster-bird for the modern elasticity of gender roles in parenting. In order to propagate the species as quickly as possible, the female lays not one, but three clutches of eggs a year. Now, she'd never accomplish that if she had to raise them all herself, so instead, she grows bigger than all the males and takes a different mate each time, having up to three boyfriends in one period. Her boyfriends, however, are stuck with the clutches. Each time finishes laying, she leaves the eggs with the mate, and the father is now responsible for incubating and hatching his progeny. Not only that, but for about 18 months he's now tied with rearing the youngsters until they're old enough to follow suit, the boys to being haggard fathers, the girls to having a wonderful time helping to sustain the survivability of a dwindling species. The cassowary is also a singularly important animal in its ecological role. It lives in a unique rainforest environment that has been around 125 million years. Thus, many of the species in this environment have co-evolved over time. Primary among them are the fruit trees. The trees of many of the forests in the tropical and wet northern York peninsula and the island of Papua New Guinea are possessed of enormous fruit similar to avocados or mangoes that have a massive central stone, but unlike their relatives, are not particularly nice to eat. Not only that, but a membrane encases the stone of these seeds that does not dissolve on its own. If the fruit falls and is left to rot, the seed won't propagate. However, if it passes through the digestive enzymes of a cassowary stomach, not only does is the stone now open to germination, it is also now buried in a nutritiously beneficial mound of cassowary poo. Unfortunately, this evolutionary advantage will be lost if the remaining 1500 cassowaries left in the wild die out (which they are dangerously close to doing, the cassowary population is still in decline, despite conservation of their rainforests. Despite pigs also eating their eggs, the cassowaries only natural predator is oncoming cars. This has led to a number of "cassowary crossing" signs going up all over northern Queensland. This is not enough, however. You see, cassowary collisions aren't due to the "bird brained" antics of the remarkably intelligent adult birds (they're smart enough to evade busloads of bush tourists, after-all). Apparently the deaths are all due to juveniles. You see, the young cassowaries devour gullets full of fruit just like their fathers taught them. But the sensitive chemistry of a cassowary metabolism takes some time to figure out the problem of alcohol. You see, if you filled your belly full of fruit, but didn't immediately digest it, alot of that sugar would just ferment, leading to a belly full of 80 proof Australian bush liquor. The younger cassowaries get drunk, need to find a nice place to lie down, and lo and behold, the middle of an asphalt road is a nice warm place to sit while recovering from a killer hang-over. Without time to react, they encounter another drunken Cane Toad (Australian nickname for Queenslanders) barreling down the highway at full tilt and BLAMMO, endangered roadkill. With an average of 10 cassowaries killed by this method every year, the females either need some major aphrodisiacs, or we're running in to an oncoming extinction. It doesn't help that captive breeding efforts have largely failed. Like me, the cassowary females are remarkably picky when presented with wonderful dating options, and their greater size and attitude doesn't help the smaller males in any courting dances. To make matters worse, the rainforest fruit trees mentioned earlier that depend on the cassowaries for propagation will likely die out as well, accounting for as many as 40 different species of trees. If all those tree species are gone, that will lead to the demise of countless epiphytes that depend on the trees for survival in rainforest canopy, which goes on and on. Its possible that a great portion of the rainforest biodiversity will be lost simply due to the death of one special bird. Will the rainforest still survive and adapt? Possibly. But it'll kill the tourism industry of Queensland. Not mention result a significant drop in the watershed for the region, which in turn will cause massive droughts countrywide, which pose big problems for Australians in general. So! My solution? Simple. If you're ever in Queensland 1) shoot a pig, shoot several pigs, and donate them to feed the homeless 2) don't drive drunk 3) visit the Australia zoo. And if you're a fan of Sex In the City, PLEASE help those female cassowaries in captivity find a few good fathers to do the job.
The Australia zoo was a great experience as a whole. I still think that the North Carolina Zoological Park in Asheboro is a better facility, and presents a greater variety of animals. However, the NC park could learn from the Australian enclosures, and probably from their marketing techniques as well. Even the camp of the "Croc" show was worth it for the guy swimming in a pool with a giant python, the macaws and cockatoos flying through the crowd, and Albert, the friendly saltwater crocodile, ignoring the bits of chicken provided him and going straight for his hapless trainer. Its just not the same without Steve (who, by the way, has a bronze statue in tribute). I did enjoy my Australian burger. It was another unusual dining experience. The burger patty was a dense ball of meat. It held the requisite lettuce, tomato, and "special sauce," complete with a slice of beet (wtf??? when did BEETS become a popular vegetable?), fennel, ham, fried egg, and sprouts. It doesn't help either that their ketchup (excuse me, toe-MAHHH-toe sauce) tastes more like brown sugar. I found some packets of Heinz later on in the Cairns airport and dumped the bowl in my backpack. Despite the Aussie peculiarities, I do think Australian cuisine is divine. Now, what other kinds of bush tucker might I be able to discover?
On the drive back from the Australia zoo, we had the chance to check out the Glass House Mountains, a set of national parks nestled in the embrace of cleared land and farming. The Glass House Mountains are testaments to the ancient geology of Australia. They resemble Pilot Mountain, a famous peak near the I-40/I-85 stretch of North Carolina, though I don't know if they have the same rock history. The Glass House Mountains began as volcanos, about 25 million years ago, making them fairly young. Over time, the rain and wind of the region eroded them down to just the inner plugs, which are spectacular rock peaks that jut out of the ground in sheer cylindrical columns, showing an array of colorful stone, and even caves etched in to their faces. The name for the mountains doesn't have anything to do with the famous saying, though I wouldn't want to stand on the top of one and throw a bunch of stones down either, they're pretty precarious. It actually came from Our Dear Captain Cook, the explorer who named most of the Eastern Coast. While trekking further inland, he saw the mountains, though never climbed them. That was left to other explorers later on (they're sheer climbs, but not very high, all under 1km in height. Cook named them as such, because they resembled the glass making furnaces of England in their shape. You can even see smoke billowing out from them sometimes, though that's usually due to the brushfires in the area.
I had a good time hiking in the park, including all the beautiful scenery. The forests were full of eucalyptus and evergreen trees. At one point, I even saw a 3 foot goanna (an Australian monitor lizard) clambor up a nearby tree. We searched for koalas in the overhanging trees, but this only led us to walking in to spider webs. Lots of them. Normally I can live with spiders, but Australian orb weavers are much larger than the North American varieties, painted an angry orange and blue. One mother was bigger than my outstretched hand! Fortunately, they were decent enough to build most of their webs either off the path, or high enough up that I could walk under them. They didn't look too keen on jumping down on me either, so I walked in guarded security. There was an abundance of butterflies, and a few mosquitos, though not too many, and the weather was warm and sunny. A beautiful temperature for January, in my opinion. I really like spending winter in Australia.