Australian hobby, and it sees everything that moves in the Top End.
It’s been estimated that raptors have eyesight up to eight times as powerful as that of a human. So much information gathered with every glance. What would you choose to remember? Not an easy choice, in this fantasy forest of fire and graves.
Well, not exactly graves, although they certainly startled the first Western explorers. These bizarre monoliths are the work of compass termites, which align their mighty constructions with the poles. It is thought that they do this to prevent their nests overheating, which might easily happen if one side faced the full wrath of the southern sun. As it is, only the narrow side is cooked.
But everything here is strange to a non-Australian eye.
Night falls and wakes the dingoes – one lopes across the road in front of our car, but there’s no time for a photo. Australia’s only native canid leaves us with a memory in our minds instead.
Other hunters do tarry. A southern boobook – a small owl – pauses in a tree.
It has only been a brief trip to Australia, but the tantalising glimpse of the forest leaves its mark.
Fire, water, termites and heat.
It is good to know that somewhere out there, right now, a hawk is watching them all.
The forest has Fire, but it also cradles this:
Water roars off Litchfield’s sandstone plateaus, but like everything here, it is seasonal. May is still early in the Dry season and the land is ridding itself of the liquid acquired in the Wet.
Or call it Yegge, if you prefer; the Aboriginals traditionally recognise six seasons in Australia’s Top End.
The high rivers support saltwater crocodiles – and other, more delicate living things. None are more beautiful than the rainbow bee-eater, which swoops over the pool hunting insects.
Wherever there is water, there are birds. And they just keep getting stranger.
And more entertaining.
And more impossible in hue.
Fire. These forests are built on it.
It destroys, but it also cleans. Flames flicker in Australia’s Northern Territory in May – deliberate small fires sparkling under a thousand stars. To the minds of people, this prevents catastrophic wildfires later in the dry season. To the minds of birds, fire brings food.
Black kites swarm over fire fronts, seizing small fleeing things. Traditional Aboriginal belief claims that kites set new blazes by dropping smouldering twigs. It has never been scientifically documented, but if true would be almost the only example of fire being managed by something non-human.
Red-tailed black cockatoos hunt in the ashes.
And one of the bush’s strangest creatures looks after itself as best it can.
I met this ball of prickles as it waddled down a road in Litchfield National Park. Not a hedgehog, not like anything else on earth – it is a short-beaked echidna, one of only four species of mammal that lay eggs. It is also quite intelligent and can live for 50 years.
That is many years of watching the forest burn and regrow.