BACK TO NATURE - Savannah

By Jamie Walker

What I was looking at was like so much of Australia: a big, wide, open land. In one direction, I was faced by sharply defined sandstone escarpments; in the other, grassland under scattered tree cover, stretched away to a far distance of low, earth-coloured hills, overlaid with purple haze. Here and there were yellow-flowered Kapok bushes, red-blossomed Woolly Butts, 0range-fruited Quinine, brown termite mounds and the bulks of Boab trees (looking “upside down”). This was the savannah of the Kimberly. 

To many of us living on the developed east coast, the farther reaches of this country can seem like another world. There, land holdings may be measured in millions of acres, a cattle station might be as big as Belgium and having your own airstrip is a vital necessity which enables interaction with family and the outside world – and could even save your life.

Birdlife can be dramatic. Black Kites are rarely out of sight. Wedge-tailed Eagles lift from carrion at the roadside. Views of rarer raptors like Black Falcon can be a daily occurrence.

Brolgas (cranes) are statuesque on dirt road verges; and then there are the Bustards.

The Australian Bustard is a magnificent bird which stands over a metre tall. Graham Pizzey, the late, eminent ornithologist, called it ‘lordly’ and ‘stately’. The male’s display to attract mates, is extravagant. He expands and drops his white neck sack, which then almost reaches the ground. Raising his bill skywards, he makes deep coughing sounds like the distant roar of some big cat.

Bustards were once called plains turkeys, which is a clue to their utility for early settlers and, ultimately, their fate. Now, hunting has largely exterminated them from settled areas and you need to travel westwards to find them. If you do, prepare to be impressed.

Water is a big draw for Kimberly birds – especially in the evening after a day’s heat. A homestead we visited, had drinking sites set out in wide dishes at ground level – and that is where, despite noisy human presence, two beautiful Spinifex Pigeons scuttled to within three metres of my feet, for a much-needed drink.

A first light walk from our accommodation on a cattle station, revealed a world of endless movement and bird song. I found Agile Wallabies and unfamiliar birds like Yellow-tinted Honeyeaters, Pallid Cuckoos, White-winged Trillers, Diamond Doves and Red-tailed Black Cockatoos.

Thanks to dryness and warmth, evening meals were often taken outside: the light from the decking just picking out the branches of nearby trees. It was on one of these that a Boobook Owl sat for moments as we ate. It seemed to be watching us out of simple curiosity.

Other night experiences were just as graphic as those in the daytime. Skies were wiped clean of cloud and haze. There was no ambient urban light and, around a blazing fire in the first hour of darkness, the Milky Way was like a scattering of talc as we were treated to the illumination of both Venus and Jupiter.

There are some who look at undeveloped land and see only a potential for exploitation of those resources demanded by the economies of the modern world. Yet, if you explore it and see it for what it is, you can understand that its real potential is already on clear display: in itself it is emphatically a resource to nurture our wellbeing.