This evening, as the light of day withdrew, an Australian magpie sang its mournful carol, bush stone-curlews wailed their despairing cries on the golf course, and flocks of little corellas nagged and ...
In mid-afternoon, weary of the unpacking and cleaning that always accompanies the end of a camping excursion, I cycled the Ross River Parkway to Townsville’s Palmetum Park, hoping to locate th...
Silence, I have discovered, is a rare commodity in the tropical night. With the passing of the Wet, frog operas have ceased, and thus, the dark hours are starker, no longer vibrating with wild rain-wo...
