Life on an escarpment

I got a phone call today from Dick. "Come and see the Blue-tongue at Seaview Park." Okaaay. "And the mistletoe's flowering."

So I dropped everything (I was supposed to be cooking for a family get-together tomorrow), found my camera and went. The Wire-leaf Mistletoe was indeed flowering, in profusion, on a stand of rare Wirilda Wattle in the middle of suburban Belmont. The park is on an escarpment on the edge of the Barwon River and supports very healthy natural vegetation but is under constant threat from everything suburban.


I wish I'd seen the little caterpillar at the time - I would have taken a macro to see what it was.

And the Blue-tongue didn't have much in the way of markings and wasn't very big so maybe it's a young one.

Revisiting favourite places

I’ve learned a thing or two over the last few years. One is never to brake quickly when I see an interesting bird. The driver behind usually (never!) has the same appreciation of the natural world. I now slow down gradually, keeping my eye on the road instead of the bird.

This lesson held me in good stead this morning. I was driving to work thinking about the priorities in the day ahead when I noticed something that had me looking twice. All thoughts of work disappeared. The wattle with the beautiful mistletoe (that I wrote about in May) is no longer in existence. The bulldozers working on the Geelong freeway have now moved on the Stage 3, in my part of town, and even though I knew where the roadworks were going to be I wasn’t expecting so many trees in the paddock to be cut down.

My mind went back to the time (nearly 20 years ago) when I revisited my parents’ farm after it had been sold. The gully that mum and dad had fenced off and nurtured for years, the beautiful tree-filled, ferny gully with a little creek that was home to native fish, had been destroyed by the cattle allowed in by the new owner. Only the trees remained -- everything else had been ruined by cloven hooves and grazing, and the water was muddy instead of clear. I still feel sad when I think about it.

Fortunately the nearby Darlot Creek is still in reasonable condition. It has one stony bank, the result of a lava flow from Mt Eccles, so the land on that side has only ever been lightly grazed. But lots more could be done to restore the health of the creek. Getting rid of willows would be a good place to start.

The perfect host?

Mistletoe is funny stuff. A patch of Wire-leaf Mistletoe Amyema preissii caught my eye. It's growing in a Cootamundra Wattle Acacia baileyana, and it set me to thinking as I drove to work. Why a Cootamundra?

My first introduction to this mistletoe was finding it growing on Black Wattle Acacia mearnsii by the side of a track. It was abundant. Almost as much mistletoe as wattle. My second sighting was a breath-taking moment when I was wandering through a bush block at Homerton. In the deep shade I came face-to-face with Wire-leaf Mistletoe growing on a Black Wattle. It was at eye level, and flowering. I was in awe of how beautiful it looked.

And today I looked at it growing on the Cootamundra and thought it looked 'wrong'. The Cootamundra is not indigenous to this area—in fact it's a weed in places—the leaf is totally different in shape to that of the Black Wattle and the colour is different as well. The Wire-leaf Mistletoe blends in on a Black Wattle but stands out on Cootamundra.

Does it grow on Cootamundra Wattle in Cootamundra? Paul Downey (Cunninghamia, Vol. 5(3): 1998) reported that specimens of this mistletoe in Australian herbariums were found on 73 host species, mostly wattles. When the Mistletoebird flies from one tree to another and deposits a sticky seed on a branch why does this particular mistletoe mainly germinate on wattles?

I haven't noticed it growing on the numerous other wattle species that grow in this district, but perhaps it does. I'll have to take particular notice. But I'm already a danger on the road because I'm looking at the birds! Walking is good exercise I'm told. Maybe I'll give that a go.