Morning Musings By The Creek…

I get up most mornings and sing the sun up with the birds.

My body clock is wired to rise as the roosters start crowing and the magpies start warbling. Often the kookaburras and ravens chime in if they're in the area.

It’s late winter. August.

When I'm down by the water the waterfowl and ducks honk and quack, followed by the blackbirds, wattlebirds, wrens, finches, wagtails, fantails, and the occasional pair of lorikeets flying overhead.

The cockatoos, galahs and corellas have started making their way back to the area, and the eagles and hawks are slowly making themselves known again.

The nankeen kestrel has hovered over our paddock almost the entire year, catching mice and lizards in the long grass, while the welcome swallows have been dipping and diving in the late afternoons for the past month.

Sometimes there's a lone cormorant in the creek, which has ventured over from the lake, where they're abundant in numbers.

The wallabies are always foraging, and the single koala changes gum trees on a regular basis. I've seen a water rat several times recently. As spring time nears, obviously the critters are starting to get more mobile.

Sometimes a fox is lurking around, evident by fresh scat on the game trails, and even making an appearance from time to time with its dusky yellow fur, probably trying to score a free chicken (again).

The native flowers are starting to blossom with whites, yellows and purples popping up alongside the myriad of mushrooms growing from tree stumps by the waters edge.

The oak trees haven't started to sprout new leaves yet, but the birch tree in the yard that I pee on almost every day has been the first to sprout lush green foliage.

I'm full of awe. Awe-full.

Not to be confused with awful. What a strange twist of meanings.

From the frost covered sticky weed to the grass that springs up and down when gentle raindrops fall from above, I shake my head at just how marvelous it all is.

The creek flooded last night and turned into a river, so it's a real wet wonderland down there. The spirits are alive and singing, if only we're attentive enough to receive their song.

One of the most magical things for me over the past several months has been developing a relationship with a special little creature down by the water. The elusive and secretive platypus.

Almost every single day, we've exchanged our greetings and mysterious whispers. Sometimes during the day, mostly before those misty mornings part. And then, back into those creekside burrows.

It’s a special patch of earth out here on Gundjitmara country. I’ve grown to be fond of this stretch of land. You know what they say though… All good things must come to end. One door closes, and another opens. What’s next to come?

More magic and wonderment, to be sure...