Animal Adventures in WA

The weather here in Perth is not co-operating – torrential rains interspersed with 60 km/hr gusts of wind and brilliant sun and rainbows. Today promised to be only overcast so we ventured out to the Peel Zoo, a hands-on native animal experience a short drive from where we’re staying in Mandurah.The zoo is on a piece of land about the same size as the Beacon Hill Petting zoo but with a labyrinthine path connecting over 90 enclosures, half of which have electric fences.

And that, my friends, should have been the tip off, right there.

At the door, after we parted with an exorbitant amount of cash for two bags of animal feed and the entrance fee, we were given a numbered list documenting which Australian creature were could expect to see in each cage. Five of the cages were labeled “Feed and Pet Animals here”. We were eased into the experience by several enclosures housing familiar creatures such as rabbits, ferrets, and guinea pigs. FYI – guinea pig cages smell just as bad in Australia as they do in Canada.

Next came the parrots. As soon as we rounded the corner, the first inmate rushed up to the wire mesh inches from our faces and maniacally screamed “Hello?! Hello?!” at us. Rob endeavored to strike up a conversation: “Hello – how are you? Are you having a good day?” but the Golden Shouldered Parrot only seemed capable of hysterical “Hello’s” and an earsplitting shriek. This routine was repeated in the next four cages with only minor variations in the pronunciation of “hello” and pitch of shriek.

I fail to see why people would want to keep these birds as pets.

We came upon our first interactive feeding area (thankfully, without electric wiring) which was populated with a mob of ten Western Grey Kangaroos and several extravagantly plumed chickens, or chooks as they call them here. After seeing the size of the roo’s claws and incisors, the girls decided to feed them, not by offering feed in their outstretched palms but by proffering the seeds in the bag while keeping their fingers tucked safely underneath.

Selfie with a kangaroo

It took a few minutes to get over the shock of coming in such close contact with an animal that is so completely foreign to anything we know but once we were more comfortable, we pet them and scratched their backs. They are as soft and fuzzy as you would expect.

Hanging out with his new mates

Our next opportunity to feed animals was a cage with several red deer and sheep. The girls and I all went in but when a sheep with cute little ram’s horns rounded the corner and trotted over towards us, the girls dashed quickly to the gate. I, entranced by its big brown eyes, waiting for it to approach and was surprised when, three feet away from me, it lowered its head and charged. Bam! Right in the thigh.

I thought this was supposed to be an experience suitable for children?! 

Rob, fearing for the integrity of my kneecaps, yelled at me to run for the gate while he tried to get the cranky beast’s attention: “Over here big guy! Bad ram! Behave yourself!” The sheep managed to get in a few more hits before I slammed the gate behind me.

This is a good juncture to point out that we were the only people in the entire zoo – I hadn’t even seen any caretakers since we had arrived.

When we came to the Bird Aviary interaction zone, Rob was the only one brave enough to go in. Some of you may remember hearing about our visit to the Coombs Parrot Sanctuary a few years back? We still bear the physical and emotional scars from that experience and the girls and I wouldn’t take a chance on Australian birds. Rob blithely walked past the “Enter at own risk” signs on the door, grabbed a few handfuls of fruit from the feeding bucket and stood in the middle of the aviary with arms outstretched. It didn’t take long for him to be completely engulfed by birds, one of which mistook his lips for juicy apple pieces. I’m sure it was only the need to set a good example for his children that prevented him from running screaming from the cage.

They went for the ears too.  Notice I'm photographing from behind the nice, thick fencing.

As we approached the next enclosure, a huge red kangaroo came rushing up to the fence, stood on its hind legs and flexed his pecs for all they were worth. It was at this point that I surmised that the bright colours Sophie and I were wearing might be sending unwanted mating messages to the animals in the zoo. Let’s just say that Big Red’s attentions were obviously *ahem* aroused. He continued to follow us all around the enclosure using every opportunity to pose and show us his wares.

We did several laps of the zoo so that we could see everything there was to see – I can now say that I have viewed every conceivable Australian land animal and furry woodland creature.

Sophie and the emu - fingers safely out of reach. After I took this picture, it grabbed the paper bag and ragdolled it.

We chatted with the attendant before we left and told her about our interesting visit. Turns out that not only were we wearing bright and extremely seductive colours but there had been very few visitors in the last several weeks. The animals were both starved for attention and hungrier than usual because they were only getting their everyday gruel and none of the extra seed bags that visitors typically provided.

Tomorrow is another fun filled animal day – we’re headed to the Perth Zoo. I will leave my bright red jacket in the car and stick to my usual dirt coloured clothes.

Happy Birthday to Me!

Family law dictates that on your birthday, the honouree gets to do what they want and eat what they want, no questions asked. This year, my birthday fell on the day that Rob wanted to swim with whale sharks.

Le sigh.

At first, I was resigned to the fact that my big day would be spent doing what the rest of the family wanted to do, a direct contravention of family law. However, as the day approached, I found myself getting more and more excited. We had signed up to do a relatively expensive, all day, transportation-equipment-and-food included snorkel outing to the Ningaloo reef in search of the world’s largest fish – the whale shark.

We had an early start so, the night before, I had my wine cut off at 8pm and was ordered to bed early. Someone, who shall remain unnamed, was so excited about the forthcoming trip that the night was filled with tossing, turning and clockwatching. The bus picked us up at 7:30 and we, along with the rest of the sixteen tour group members, were driven around the tip of the peninsula to where the boat was waiting for us.

The 17 metre vessel was crewed by the captain (and galley wench) Josh, safety boat operator Travis (who happened to be a transplanted BC boy from Merritt), Megs, the photographer and Tara and Roxy, the snorkeling guides. They also had a pilot up in a spotter plane circling overhead.

We started the cruise by going for a snorkel inside the reef so that the crew could access our swimming and snorkeling skills. I assured them that Isabelle and Sophie could outswim anyone on board, and quite possibly the whale sharks.

In our fashionable sting suits - red bell jellies had been prolific the day before, but thankfully, were absent today

The first thing I spotted when I put my mask in the water was a 5 foot reef shark lurking directly below. And when I say directly, I mean about 3 feet under my feet, which were immediately drawn up into the fetal position *protect vital organs*. The reef shark was completely unconcerned by my presence and languidly swam on his merry way. I continued towards the group and was treated to a spectacular underwater wonderland – an entire Disney movie full of brilliantly coloured aquatic life. I saw Dory, Gill, the turtle dudes and a school of sign making silver fish. The only beings missing were Ariel and Sebastian leading his underwater orchestra: “Darling it’s better, down where it’s wetter, under da sea”.

Truly spectacular.

After about 30 minutes in the body temperature water, we were ushered back up into the boat and we continued into the open ocean to where the spotter plane directed us. While under way, the crew treated us to a puppet show illustrating how to swim with a whale shark to ensure the sharks comfort and our safety. Amazing how much better directions sink in when delivered by a Fisher Price boat with He-Man at the helm, Dusty the Pixar crop duster and a platoon of action figures with sticks up their butts for ease of illustration.

We arrived at the correct coordinates and were divided into two groups of ten. Department of Wildlife regulations dictate that only ten people at a time can interact with the sharks so we played an elaborate game of leapfrog so that everyone could enjoy the experience. One group was launched into the water in the path of the shark, the boat charged ahead, dumped its second load of tourists further ahead and then looped around to pick up the first group and the cycle repeated itself for a maximum of one hour.

The four Rutherfords were in Group 2 and patiently waited their turn to get in the water.

If by “patiently” you mean scooting as close as we could behind the first group and barging in front of all the seniors in our group.

We launched into the water as directed by Tara, our snorkel guide, and waited until she gave the signal before we put our masks in the water. 

FYI – noise travels four times faster and louder underwater and I’m sure everything within a 10k radius heard my squeal of shock when I put my mask into the water to discover a 7 metre spotted shark lurking four miniscule metres away from me. 

Holy %@#!.

We had to wait for it to swim past us and as soon as we were level with its pectoral fins, we were allowed to try to keep up and swim with it. Before that happened, there was much yelling from Tara – “Push yourself out if his way – he’s changing direction!” (she had already had a good look underneath and determined its sex by the dangly bits). I saw that Sophie was in the direct path of the shark’s gaping maw and couldn’t move back because a bikini clad nymph behind her was taking advantage of the photo op. I channeled my best mama bear and pushed both of them out of the path of the behemoth. The shark stared at us out of its marble sized eyes and I’m fairly certain I saw a disconcerted shrug as he circled around. 

Ok, maybe I overreacted, just a tad.

One of the men in our group was a little too enthusiastic and started swimming within eyesight of the shark. The beast decided he had had enough of the pesky humans, did a sharp jackknife and dove out of sight, just like that. Gone.

Luckily, the spotter plane had seen more sharks and we spent a few hours leapfrogging amongst more of these incredibly spectacular animals. 

I have to admit that snorkeling is made much more exhausting by the necessity of constant head counting. The mantra in my head went something like this: 

Head down “OMG Whale shark!!”

Head up “kid, kid, husband”

Head down “OMG it’s so beautiful!!”

Head up “kid, kid, husband”

Head down “OMG what an experience”

… repeat ad naseum…

On the way back to the harbour, as the crew treated us to a fabulous lunch, we spotted giant turtles, minke whales, flying fish, a school of tuna, a stingray and a bob of cuttlefish. The only thing left on our “To be Seen in Western Australia” list is a dugong – luckily, a red kangaroo hopped into the path of our oncoming bus on the way home so we could cross that one off the list too.

And so, to summarize this momentous of days, I can state that, on my forty fourth birthday, I officially jumped that shark.

It’s all downhill from here.

Blazing Saddles

Kalbarri is a tiny town on the coast completely supported by tourists coming to explore the magnificent gorges of the Kalbarri National Park. It’s almost 100 km off the Brand highway, so once you’re there, you’re pretty much committed to spending at least one night. On the road into town, I spotted the sign for Big River Ranch - a farmstay that also offers trail rides. Ding ding ding! Sold.

It was a bit of a chore to find someone in charge when we rolled up. There were masses of horses in the paddocks, a black lab shaped doormat and a staffie mix who, judging from the scab on his head, had recently been in an argument with one of the other residents. Greta emerged from behind a long line of sheets drying on the line and ushered us into the family suite, attached to the stables. We booked a trail ride for the morning and settled in for the night. 

We were awoken at 5:38 the following morning by the roosters, followed quickly by a heated argument between two geese in the stables right beside my head, and then the kookaburras joined in the chorus. 

This is a tree full of gallahs right outside our bedroom window. They have an extremely loud, screechy call.

There were nine of us there for the trail ride and Simon, the foreman, introduced us to our horses. I got Flash, a big chestnut I hoped was named for the white mark on his head and not his speed (although we did later learn that they are all retired racing horses). After about a km, Simon offered to take us on a canter if we were comfortable and those interested were instructed to peel off to the right. I was undecided until I saw Isabelle go to the right and thought I should be a responsible parent and join her. Rob followed right behind me and it wasn’t until later that I realized we had completely abandoned Sophie in the walking group. So much for effective parenting.

A few shouted instructions from Simon and all of a sudden, everyone was galloping hell bent for leather over the sand dunes. I’m glad Flash knew what he was doing because I sure the hell didn’t. Isabelle was in front of me yelling “Haw! Haw!” at the top of her lungs and Rob was behind me channeling his inner cowboy – me? I was just trying to stay on. After about an hour (or maybe 3 minutes? Hard to tell.), we met up with the walking group and headed to the Murchison River.

The trail ride brochure advertised “a walk through the river” with a picture of a group walking sedately through water up to the horses ankles. In reality, the water came up to the top of the saddle with the horses barely maintaining contact with the river bed. Refreshing, but unexpected.

One of the only pictures we have of the ride - that's Sophie up in front in the white hoodie.

Simon kept up a running commentary about the farm and their animals the entire ride, telling us all the things they like to do to keep the horses active and entertained. One great way to do this is to switch up the trail rides as often as possible. He decreed us experienced enough to go on a challenging path that they seldom use for our gallop back to the ranch. 

Oh my lord, love a duck. 

Again, we separated and raced through bushes, around tight corners and over dunes, just like in The Man from Snowy River. That scene when he goes down the embankment? Really. It was just like that. Maybe minus 45 degrees or so on the angle of the hill. But just like that.

We all arrived safely back at the ranch, sopping wet and exhilarated. Three days later, I am still contemplating the term “saddle sore” and my runners have only just dried out. 

Wilsons Promontory

Some interesting facts about Wilsons Promontory:

Legend has it that Loo-errn was cooking eels by the side of the Yarra River in Melbourne, saw a swan's feather floating on the wind and followed it to the Prom. He now lives in the mountains of Yiruk (as the Prom is traditionally named) and watches over the welfare of his people.

It is one of the earliest designated national parks in the world.

Eighteen thousand years ago, when the oceans were 130m lower, Aborigines walked from the Prom to Tasmania.

The Gunai are the traditional owners of the land but there is shockingly little information available on site about the history of the area before the arrival of Europeans. I found this quite different from our experiences at BC parks like Montague Harbour, where the parks people can take you on a tour of culturally modified trees, midden sites and are well versed on the significance of the area to the First Nations. 

The Prom is quite an impressive place. You have to drive 30k into the park before you get to the campground and in that 30k drive, I almost hit a deer, a wombat and a kangaroo. Luckily, I had three back-seat drivers to tell me how to drive and managed to avoid each one. FYI, the deer looked just like the ones at home. I think I even saw one of Gran's tulip bulbs dangling from his lips.

The campground has a range of accommodations from a no-frills patch of land to pitch your tent all the way to a two bedroom, two bathroom wilderness retreat. We were in a yurt-like hut with two bunk beds, a stove, bar fridge, cold running water and a heater.

We were only a hop, skip and a jump to Norman Bay - a huge sandy beach with great surf and no sharks. The sand is so fine, it feels like cornstarch under your feet and behaves the same way too - you can make a sandball hard enough to bruise when thrown with accuracy and yet, if you hold the ball in your hand for more than 10 seconds, it will flow through your fingers like pudding..

The weather was chilly but that didn't stop us from bodyboarding and frolicking in the surf - we're hardy Canadians (and we had wetsuits).

As soon as the sun starts to go down, everyone prowls around looking for wildlife. Rob came across his first wombat on the way to barbeque dinner on our first night. They are about the size of medium sized dog, round and fuzzy and very low to the ground. This guy was placidly chomping on the grass so Rob crouched down and did his best wombat whisperer impersonation. The bundle of fluff snuffled straight over to him and as he was taking this picture, the wombat slowly reached out his paw and sliced a foot long hole through the BBQ bag Rob had placed between his legs. Rob moved away with haste.

Campers obviously feed the birds because we has rosellas, magpies, seagulls and kookaburras all fighting for our attention - and Pringles. At one point, Rob had three green rosellas on him, Sophie attracted two reds, I had a magpie yelling at me and Isabelle was hiding in the hut, still traumatized by our visit to the Parrot Sanctuary at Coombs a few years back.

The Prom animal count: deer, wombats, foxes, bats, emus, ring-tailed and brush-tailed possums, kangaroos, wallabys and more birds than you can shake a tube of Pringles at.

FYI: Wombats smell like guinea pigs