Francene the frog and her friends in the outback [1 ed.] 9781925040104, 9781925040098

Citation preview

BOB PRIMROSE

Published 2013 by the Western Australian Museum 49 Kew Street, Welshpool, Western Australia 6106. www.museum.wa.gov.au Copyright © Western Australian Museum, 2013. Text copyright © Bob Primrose, 2013. This book is copyright. All rights are reserved. Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of private study, research, criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright Act, no part may be reproduced, stored or transmitted by any process without written permission. Illustrated by Jodie Davidson. Designed by Tim Cumming. Digital edition released 2014. National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry Author: Primrose, Robert (Bob), author. Title: Francene the frog and her friends in the outback / Bob Primrose; illustrated by Jodie Davidson. ISBN: 978-1-925040-10-4 (epdf) Subjects: Frogs—Habitat—Western Australia—Juvenile literature. Western Australia—Juvenile literature. Other Authors/Contributors: Davidson, Jodie, illustrator. Western Australian Museum. Dewey Number: 597.8

Bob Primrose Illustrated by Jodie Davidson

Daybreak at Petrudor Rocks It had been a long dry summer and there was little water left in the small pool at the foot of the rocky outcrop. If not for the seepage rising from a spring deep below, the pool would have dried out long ago. Now, as the sun crept into the eastern sky, its pale beams chased away the lingering shadows of night, to reveal a halo of mist rising from the water. As the shadows gradually cleared, a little frog, Francene, could be seen — sitting quietly alone — sheltering on a narrow ledge under an overhanging rock at the side of the little pool.

Francene was a Shoemaker frog (Neobatrachus sutor) and her large eyes were keenly watching, and she was listening, straining for a sound. Listening. Watching. Listening, as she had done now for many months, for that short repetitive ‘Tap! Tap tap!’ — ‘Tap! Tap tap!’ — the mating call of the male Shoemaker Frog. But no call came, nor would it. For although the rock pool at Petrudor Rocks Reserve had once been home to several species of arid zone frog, there were now few survivors. Francene was now the only remaining member of her species and even though she had friends among the other small creatures, she was a lonely little frog. She longed to find a mate and fulfill her destiny, to spawn as her mother had done and produce lots of baby tadpoles. But she knew she must be patient; the season would change and rain would again bring life to the bush land. As the light grew stronger it revealed that, although rather small (35 mm), Francene was a pretty little frog. She had a small plump body, short legs with heavily webbed toes, and her back was a lovely bright yellow, scattered with numerous irregular patches of rich brown. Set above a rounded snout, she had large speckled, light brown eyes — intelligent and friendly. But of course, Francene didn’t start out life as such an attractive little frog. In fact, when first hatched as a baby tadpole from one of the hundreds of tiny eggs laid by her mother, she looked more like a short piece of black cotton, with a little blob of jelly attached at one end. 6

The Tadpoles Francene was born upstream from the pool at Petrudor Rocks in one of several small freshwater pools formed in the usually dry creek bed after a late-summer storm. Following rain these pools soon become havens for the bushland creatures from the nearby parched countryside. Frogs of different species appeared, as if from nowhere, to breed. Francene’s mother was one of them, laying hundreds of tiny eggs, connected string-like together and submerged in the open water.

Many other frogs spawned about the same time, and a week later the eggs started to hatch and hundreds of tiny tadpoles settled like a living carpet on the bottom of the pool. They shoved and pushed at each other as they competed for room to rest while they developed their mouthparts, tail fins and gills. And each little tadpole had a small blob of egg yolk in its gut, which they lived on for the first few days after their birth. 7

This early period is one of the most dangerous in a baby tadpole’s life. Larger predators will eat most of them. When you’re a tiny tadpole at the bottom of nature’s food chain, every creature above wants you for a meal. And although tadpoles and frogs live mainly on plants and algae, they are also predators and will eat whatever they can catch, even other smaller tadpoles and frogs. Less than 1% of tadpoles will survive to become adult frogs: survival becomes a frantic race — eat, grow bigger and try to avoid being eaten. Francene’s little creek bed pool supported a range of aquatic and territorial bushland creatures. As well as tadpoles and adult frogs, there were small native fish, water snails, water fleas, midge larvae, aquatic worms, shrimps and gilgie, water boatman and the larvae of dragonflies, damselflies and water beetles, all competing for food and life. And of course, there were water birds and many other bush animals coming for a drink and the chance of a meal. It was a very dangerous place for any baby creatures. But Francene’s senses were keener, and she could swim much faster than most of her brother and sister tadpoles. Any unusual movement in the water or shadow overhead would send her scurrying to hide out of harm’s way. So, as most of the tadpoles and other small creatures gradually perished, Francene survived. Her little body grew plump and oval, and her thin tail grew long and flat. She soon looked like a funny little fat fish.

8

Metamorphosis About 40 days after hatching, strange things began to happen to Francene’s body. Her metamorphosis began — her tadpole body began to make some of the major changes necessary for her to become a frog. Metamorphosis is a remarkable process of development which happens to amphibians and some insects, fish and other aquatic creatures. They start their juvenile life with a certain body form and later undergo major physical changes until, as if by magic, they emerge as the adult form of their species with a completely different body shape and function. Francene’s back legs started to grow first. They began as small bumps on either side of her body, just in front of her tail. Then, over a period of about three weeks, they gradually grew longer to become legs with webbed feet attached. At almost the same time — although you wouldn’t have noticed unless you’d looked really closely — her front legs started to form inside her body. Then just after her back legs completed their development, out popped her fully formed front legs — just like that! What an unusual looking little creature she now was — half fish and half frog! However, while Francene continued to survive and grow, conditions in the little pool gradually worsened, as other nearby pools dried out and more bushland creatures came for water. Although her pool had a rock bottom, and the water wasn’t leaking away quite so fast, the ever-increasing demand and evaporation due to the sun’s warming rays caused the water level to drop rapidly. The pool’s shallow warm water created ideal conditions for algal bloom, which began to clog the pool with green slime and used up more precious oxygen. 9

However, Francene’s metamorphosis continued. She battled on and her time to become a frog grew closer. Her simple lungs started to grow and her gills began to shrink. The gills still allowed her to obtain some of the oxygen left in the slimy water, but soon she would have to get her oxygen from the air. To survive she must leave the pool or risk dying in the poisoned water. Nature’s process of change had to be speeded up. Time was running out. Normally, a Shoemaker Frog in a critical situation like this would just burrow down in the creek bed or clay pan and hibernate — surround itself with a plasticlike cocoon to preserve moisture and close down until further rain. However, this escape option was not available to Francene because her mother had chosen a pool with a rock base. Although Francene knew she would die if she stayed where she was, she realised there was little chance of surviving on land — even with her keen senses and special abilities. The edge of the shallow pool was open and exposed to danger. She saw that other tadpoles who had become frogs were being gobbled up by waiting predators as soon as they left the water.

Her only hope was to remain where she was for as long as possible, directing her special skills towards staying alive. It was a very difficult and frightening time. However, now, there was almost no oxygen. She had to spend most of her time clinging to whatever she could close to the surface, hiding under the leaf litter, with her nose just poking through, as she exercised her developing lungs and legs. Many times she had to avoid the probing bill of a water bird, sifting the slimy water for food. She was defenceless — easy prey for any would-be predator. Then just when it seemed all might be lost, the rain came. 11

The Storm The mid-day sun was blazing hot; the light breeze stopped and the air became still. Small flashes of lightning appeared on the northern horizon, followed by the faint rumble of thunder, signifying an approaching storm. A strange sense of expectation filled the air. The thirsty bushland creatures were excited. Their instinct told them it was a thunderstorm that may bring rain; the water they urgently needed to survive. Rain meant the renewal of life, a fresh start for all, a chance to breed and grow. The dry country would bloom again; there would be plenty of food for the herbivores — the insects and creatures that rely on grasses and plants for food and shelter — which, in their turn, would become potential food for the predators further up the food chain. At first a gentle north-easterly breeze stirred the tree-top leaves. Then, as the wind strengthened, lifting the dust, it brought an earthy smell of dampness — the smell that comes when rain falls on dry ground. Thick black clouds swept low overhead, spreading quickly like spilt ink. Excited by what may happen, the birds and other bushland creatures cried out to one another — ‘Rain! Rain! The rain is coming!’ Francene, hiding beneath a patch of decaying leaf matter, heard the noise and noticed the activity. She cautiously lifted her head and tried to see what was happening. Suddenly! Plop! Plop! Plop! The first raindrops landed in the thick green slime right next to her. It gave her quite a shock, for she’d never seen rain before, and she thought the sound might be that of some predator. However, the lovely damp smell reached her almost as fast as the raindrops, and her spirits rose as she too recognised the coming rain — nature’s precious gift of life.

12

However, the heavy rain lasted for only a few minutes before the wind drove the dark clouds away to the east. The sky cleared and the thunderstorm became just a noisy, electrical storm — angry spears of lightning chasing small clouds of dust across the parched countryside. And a strange feeling of stillness and quiet — which always seems to follow sudden heavy rain — slowly settled over the bushland. But there would be no time for Francene to relax and enjoy the benefits brought by the rain.

14

Chaos Although it was a short storm, the rain quickly flooded the catchment area and the creek soon filled and overflowed. Within minutes, the churning muddy water became a raging torrent; a small flash flood sweeping all before it as it surged downstream. And Francene and many other small creatures were caught up in its surge. It was chaos — they were completely confused and unable to control what was happening to them. At first, Francene resisted, holding on with all her strength, but she had no hope and was quickly swept away to become part of the swirling muddy mix — tumbling along among the sticks, leaves and other bits and pieces. Knocked about by submerged rocks, logs and the other debris in the water, Francene suddenly noticed a gum tree leaf bobbing along beside her, so she grabbed it and climbed on. Then, using the leaf like a surfer riding a body-board, she continued downstream on the crest of a small wave rising behind the main surge. 15

She felt much safer on her leaf surf-board; she was even beginning to enjoy the ride, but her pleasure didn’t last long. A short distance ahead, a submerged log was causing a diversion, forcing part of the racing water to turn aside from the main flow into a smaller deeper stream leading away and down to Petrudor Rocks Reserve. Whack! Suddenly, Francene’s leaf surf-board hit the submerged log, and she tumbled off to become part of the murky mix heading towards Petrudor Rocks. Her situation was now even worse — the water was moving faster as it plunged downstream, passing over the rough granite surface. She could do nothing to help herself, and her soft tadpole skin was further damaged and torn as she tumbled out of control. All tadpoles and baby frogs have a soft thin skin that can be easily damaged. It takes several weeks to mature and become the thicker tougher skin of an adult frog. Suddenly her downwards rush came to an end. She arrived with a plopping splash in the little pool at the base of Petrudor Rocks — much to the delight of the waiting ‘Little Egret’ water birds.

16

Although the Petrudor Rocks pool had remained a reliable water source throughout the long dry months, before the thunderstorm and flash flood the shortage of food had become severe though the long summer. So the hungry water birds were particularly pleased by the sudden arrival of the storm water, and the many small creatures swept into the pool. They launched into a feeding frenzy, making harsh excited squawking noises, which meant things like: ‘Wow! That was a good one.’ ‘Yummy!’ Or, ‘Look! There’s a tasty one.’ Wading about in the confined space of the rock pool, they gobbled up whatever they could. The storm-water arrivals who were not dead or badly injured, desperately tried to escape and hide. Francene was battered and bruised. Her soft skin torn and bleeding and one front leg was at a strange angle — she appeared more dead than alive. It seemed she’d be easy meat for the predators. But in seconds she regained her keen senses. Even though the water was a muddy haze, she could clearly see the water birds slashing about with their long, thin black bills in the bubbling water, and hear their excited harsh croaking words. 17

In a flash, she recognised their slender build, their white plumage, long black legs and orange coloured facial skin. She knew they were ‘Little Egrets’ — three of them — a deadly common predator often seen stalking food in shallow floodwater pools and wetlands. .

‘Oh look! There’s one!’ an Egret squawked, its long neck drawn back ready to strike. It was amazing; it all happened in a heart beat. Although Francene was severely injured and her energy almost spent, as the Egret struck she summoned her remaining strength to dive away from the stabbing bill and quickly swim underwater to the protection of a nearby overhanging rock shelf. It seemed that Francene was too badly injured to survive, let alone escape a skilful hunter — and yet she did. Now she must find somewhere safe to rest while she tried to recover from her injuries. It appeared an impossible task, but then Francene — like all tadpoles and frogs — possessed the extraordinary ability to heal herself; to recover and survive even very severe injuries. Tadpoles and frogs have very powerful natural chemicals contained within their skin, which promotes healing. And, remarkable as it may seem, they can even regrow part of a damaged limb.

18

Oceedee The physical effort of her narrow escape from the Little Egret’s stabbing bill was almost too much for Francene in her weakened state. She now lay floating on the surface, sheltered by the overhanging rock — too exhausted to pull herself onto the narrow landing. At first, she didn't even notice the strange looking little creature observing her, until it bombed its head up and down. The sudden movement gave her quite a fright — could this be another predator waiting to attack? To her relief she saw that the little creature was a lizard, and she knew that lizards are not usually interested in eating tadpoles or frogs.

19

The little lizard blended in well with the granite surface on which it was lying. It was almost the same colour — a mix of pinkish-brown shades and dark greys, scattered with creamy irregular blotches. It had a long tapered muscular tail, about one and a half times the length of its body, which was completely encircled by broad bands of similar colours. Its head was fairly large with a short neck, and its strong back legs and smaller front ones each had five toes. This little lizard was quite different from any of the smooth-skinned lizards that visited the creek-bed pool where Francene was born. It was a young male Ornate Crevice Dragon (Ctenophorus ornnatus). Not one of those horrible fire-breathing flesh-eating dragons of fairytale land, but a colourful member of the Australian Dragon Lizard family. The name Ornate Crevice Dragon refers to this little lizard’s attractive colouring, and the fact that they live on rocky outcrops and shelter in deep cool crevices or under loose rocks. Their skin is different than the skin of their small cousin lizards. Skinks and legless lizards both have a smooth, hard, shiny tightfitting skin, and geckos have soft, velvety, loose-fitting skin. The loose-fitting skin of a Dragon Lizard feels rough — like the texture of sandpaper. It is covered with tiny scales, which overlap one another as fish scales and roof tiles do. And their long tail is quite firmly attached — unlike the tails of many other small species of lizards who can shed their tails to confuse an attacking predator. Ornate Crevice Dragons are also easy to recognise by their head bobbing and arm waving antics. The head bobbing is thought to be a display of dominance — as if the dragon is saying, ‘Who’s the boss here?’ ‘Do you want a punch-up, or are you gunna’ give up without a fight?’ And the arm waving is thought to be a sign of acceptance — a friendly wave, sort of like ‘How’re you goin’ there mate? Nice day isn’t it?’ The little lizard watching Francene was called Oceedee, from his initials OCD — Ornate Crevice Dragon. He’d been sheltering on the narrow platform under the rock shelf, feeding on ants, small spiders and crickets — his favourite food — when Francene arrived. Francene realised that, although Oceedee was no real danger to her and looked quite friendly, his head bobbing action was a challenge. So she softly said, ‘Please help me? I’m really quite hurt and need a safe place to rest and recover.’ 20

‘Wow! Wow!’ Oceedee exclaimed, moving to the edge of the narrow rock platform for a closer look. ‘You spoke! I’ve never heard a tadpole speak! What sort of a tadpole are you? Where’d you come from?’ 21

Oceedee was a kind, friendly little dragon lizard, only a little larger in body size than Francene. Now that he was closer, he could see Francene was seriously injured. The foraging Little Egrets were close by poking about in the water, trying to find where she was hiding. She really did need his help. So he firmly grasped her uninjured front leg and pulled her out of the water. Now safe on the rock landing, Francene gasped. ‘Oh! Thank you. Thank you.’ Lying there, quietly resting, Francene told Oceedee everything that had happened to her. She explained that, although she looked like a strange tadpole, her body was soon to change into a frog — if she could find somewhere safe to rest and recover from her injuries. ‘Somewhere those nasty Little Egrets won’t gobble me up,’ she added. Oceedee knew all about the Little Egrets. These deadly water birds were regular visitors to the little rock pool. He'd seen them take many insects and other small creatures as their prey. But Ornate Crevice Dragon lizards are very alert and agile creatures. Their camouflage — the way their body colours blend with their environment — their keen eyesight, speed and intimate knowledge of where to shelter and hide, generally enables them to avoid their main predator — birds of prey. As a cheeky one-year-old, and much to the dismay of his family, Oceedee often made use of his natural skills to tease Little Egrets and other would-be predators in a deadly game of ‘catch me if you can.’ He’d pause on the open rock slope, nod and wave a couple of times with one of his front legs to attract attention, and then speed off — easily outrunning his pursuer. It was very risky, but great fun.

22

Oceedee knew the surrounding rock slopes well — every loose slab of granite, every crevice and other cover that dragon lizards use for shelter, but quite impossible for an injured half tadpole/half frog to reach safely. He knew that even concealed as they were under the overhanging rock shelf, they weren’t safe from the Little Egret’s long probing bill. They had to move, and quickly! But where?

23

The Haven Oceedee knew there was only one place where Francene would really be safe — his own little haven. At the back of the narrow landing, among the earth and small rocks making up the low wall, there was a gap; a passage about two centimetres wide leading through to a hollowed area under the overhanging rock. It was Oceedee's ‘special place’; a place he’d battled for and fearlessly guarded. Should he now surrender his private spot, so Francene would be safe to rest and recover? Now Oceedee may have been a bit of a larrikin, but he had a kind heart. He never hesitated for a moment. ‘Come on, he said, you’ll be fine. I know a place where you’ll be safe. It’s quite close.’ And saying this he gently nudged her with his head — sort of leaning on her and pushing — moving her slowly towards the entrance of the small passage. It was a bit dark and gloomy as they moved back, and even darker as they entered the narrow passage. Francene was frightened, and her wounds were hurting. With Oceedee helping alongside it was a tight fit, and she had never been so close to another creature. However, she could hardly move on her own, and she was too exhausted to care. Of course, Oceedee had no problem, his body design allowed him to squeeze through all sorts of narrow places. Sensing Francene’s fear, Oceedee encouraged her, by saying. ‘Don’t be scared. It’s not far, and it’s really nice inside.’ The narrow passage soon opened out and led into the small cave. Sunlight was coming through a crack in the roof. It was cool and damp; the earth floor was scattered with small rocks and chips of granite. And there were small clumps of lichen and mosses growing on the rocks and walls.

24

‘You will be fine here.’ Oceedee said, ‘There's plenty of food and nothing will disturb you. I'll keep a lookout and visit whenever I can.’ Poor little Francene, her heart was almost bursting with happiness. She now had a haven; safe from the threat of attack — a place to rest and a friend to help her recover. ‘Oh! Thank you! Thank you!’ she said.

25

A Frog at last As he helped Francene settle in, Oceedee felt really good — as you always do when you’ve done a kind deed. He even showed her how she could make use of his special food source — an unending supply of plump juicy termites. She just had to break the crusty covering of their tunnel — down one side of the cave — and there they were. He also explained the little escape burrow he’d dug in soil at the back edge of the cave — just in case — which allowed easy access to the bushland outside. Relaxed and well fed, safe in her little haven under the watchful eye of her new-found friend, Francene recovered rapidly. Oceedee visited her each day, and as she grew stronger and her wounds healed he helped her through the narrow passage, so she could swim and exercise close to the rock landing. She gradually regained the use of her injured leg. At the same time, her tail grew shorter and then disappeared, her eyes grew larger and her body shape changed and filled out. Her skin also matured, taking on the lovely yellow and brown colours of an adult Shoemaker frog. When she could move about more easily, Francene spent most of her time on the rock landing. She could have a clear view of what was happening, without exposing herself to danger. It was also a good place for an easy meal. The occasional water-boatman beetle skimming around in circles close-by, and ants, small spiders or crickets that strayed under the rock shelf looking for food, were swept up with one quick flick of Francene’s long tongue.

26

As the days and weeks passed Francene’s friendship with Oceedee grew. Oceedee told her how he too had been hatched from an egg — one of three laid by his mother in a small sheltered nest, under a large slab of rock further up the slope. But his birth was quite different to Francene’s. When he broke out of his egg — almost at the same time as his brother and sister — he was already a fully formed (although tiny) Ornate Crevice Dragon lizard. He stayed close to his brother and sister for some weeks after their birth, playing ‘race me’ games, exploring the granite slopes and sharing food and shelter.

‘I still keep in touch with them,’ Oceedee said, ‘even if it’s only a nod or an occasional wave in the distance, and we do look out for one another. I’ve told them about you. They’re a little scared, but I may persuade them to come for a visit soon.’ Oceedee also told Francene that there were several species of lizards and skinks living on the granite outcrop and in the bushland nearby. All were members of the large and diverse family of lizards and reptiles that have evolved and descended from the dinosaur age. And like any extended family, some species got on very well together, but others don’t — they’ll fight at every opportunity. ‘But almost everyone gets on well with my Great Uncle, Beetee.’ Oceedee said. ‘He’s so wise and helpful, and it seems he’s been around forever. He even remembers when the big bushfire came. So many creatures lost their lives then, but Uncle survived — although he did lose part of his back leg in the fire.’

28

Great Uncle Beetee Great Uncle Beetee was a Bobtail Skink (Tiliqua rugosa). He was a slow moving, slow talking, battle scarred old bobtail. But despite his appearance, he was a skilful tough fighter, quite capable of defending himself. As many an aggressor found to their dismay. And he wore his scars proudly, for each was part of his twenty-year history. Wounds he received in courting duels in his younger years, and during brave escapes from predators and natural disasters — like the damage to one of his hind legs during the bushfire that swept the area almost ten years before. Luckily, he’d found shelter under a rock ledge as the bushfire raged, but he couldn’t manage to get one of his back legs completely under shelter, and his foot was badly burnt. It was a narrow escape, and it left him with a rather stubby looking leg for the rest of his life.

Many people wrongly call Bobtail Skinks, Goannas or Lizards. But they’re not, there's quite a difference. Skinks are a member of the diverse family of Australian lizards — which makes Great Uncle Beetee a distant relative of Oceedee’s. A common species of skink, Bobtails are found within the drier areas of western and southern Australia. Pairs usually bond for life and give birth to live young. If they survive they can live for 20 to 25 years and grow to about 35cm in length. They have a broad deep triangular-shaped head, strong jaws, a blue tongue, small legs and a short blunt tail (where the name ‘Bobtail’ comes from). Their strong body is covered with large overlapping irregular shaped scales — a bit like a long skinny pine cone. Bobtail skinks are found in a range of colours from pale to dark or olive brown, grey to black, with irregular lighter coloured bands or blotches of cream, grey, yellow or orange. Goannas have quite a different body shape and skin texture to that of skinks. There are 25 species of goanna found in Australia. A varied group of carnivorous reptiles, they range greatly in size and fill several ecological niches. The larger group, called Monitor Lizards, can grow up to 2.5 metres in length. 30

The goanna features prominently in Aboriginal mythology and Australian folklore. Goannas lay eggs as a method of reproduction. They have a long slender neck and flattened head with curved, back-pointing teeth and a forked tongue — which they use when sensing out their prey. Their tail is long and they have powerful legs, with five clawed toes. The skin of a goanna is usually loose fitting and similar in texture to that of a dragon lizard — tiny overlapping fish-like scales that feel like rough sandpaper. Great Uncle Beetee appeared a rather sleepy, docile creature — who’d rather run than fight — but he could be quite savage when he had to, and he had a keen mind. Although he always tried to settle a difference peacefully, at the first sign of danger, he’d quickly puff himself up to look bigger and stronger. Turning to face his aggressor, he’d open his mouth wide, poke out his blue tongue and hiss loudly — often bending himself in a half circle as a tactic to confuse his attacker. But if the aggressor persisted and came within range, they could find themselves quickly seized and painfully held in Uncle Beetee’s vice-like jaws and blunt bone-crushing teeth. Or, be amazed at the speed of the old bobtail as he retreated to safety in the hollow of a fallen tree, or nearby rock shelter.

Among most of the related lizard and reptile family groups living in the bushland community, Great Uncle Beetee was considered a wise, respected elder — a role he really enjoyed. His knowledge and wisdom, his experiences of life and his concern about the safety of family members, made him a reliable friend from whom others sought guidance and help. Now, in his old age, he seldom moved far from the small area of trees and shrubs growing in a shallow hollow no more than twenty paces from the rock pool. There was plenty of safe shelter and food and water close by. But, although he welcomed visitors, he could get rather cranky with those who tried to take up residence in what he considered to be ‘his territory.’ Great Uncle Beetee loved to tell stories about his escapes and past adventures to any member of his extended ‘lizard family’ who cared to listen. Most days he could be found dozing in the sun, or socialising with friends on a small flat rock area, close to the rock shelter where he rested at night, or retreated to when in danger. And danger there certainly was. Not only from aerial predators, such as hawks and eagles, but more so from the deadly monitor lizards and larger venomous snakes. No bushland creature was safe when these much feared meat-eaters were on the prowl. Bobtail skinks are one of their favourite meals, and they have no difficulty in swallowing one whole. In fact, it was a deadly King Brown snake that took Great Uncle Beetee’s life partner and their two newly born baby skinks some years before, and had almost taken his life too on more than one occasion. He’d been lucky so far, but he knew the constant danger of an attack.

32

The Community Francene found it interesting and entertaining, watching the behaviour of the bushland creatures as they came to the pool. There was always something happening. Sometimes, in the late afternoon or in the morning, a flock of about six white cockatoos came to drink and play. They were birds of the ‘Little Corella’ species; easy to identify by their white feathers and short crest (feathers that stick up on a bird’s head). And their small whitish bill, with a few pinkish feathers on both sides. The bare baggy blue-colour skin under the eye makes them look a bit like little old ladies who may have applied a little too much eye-shadow.

Sometimes the Corellas were accompanied by one or two Pink and Grey Galahs — distinctive well-known birds found throughout Australia. The Corellas’ high pitched, two-toned, harsh screeching could be heard as they approached and circled overhead. What a noisy boisterous mob they were. They swaggered about, squawking and screeching, sometimes chasing and wrestling one another, or drinking, bathing or just frolicking about in the water. They seemed to have a great time together. ‘Twenty-eight’ Parrots, Magpies, Crows, Butcher-birds and many other bird species also came and went. The larger birds, such as the eagles, hawks and egrets seemed bold and fearless, while others, like the wrens, pardalotes and other small insect eaters, were nervous and hesitant.

Francene particularly liked the beautiful Rainbow Bee-eaters for their colours, and the acrobatic Willy Wagtails with their musical song. The Rainbow Bee-eaters came in flocks of about twenty birds migrating south for the breeding season. The reliable Petrudor Rocks water source was one of their regular stop-overs. Their high pitched conversational chitter and the swirl of their colourful wings, announced their arrival and heaven help any unsuspecting insect unable to take cover and escape. Native bees are the Bee-eaters favourite prey, but they aren't fussy; many flying-ants, dragonflies, moths, spiders and beetles were soon gobbled up to meet the bee-eaters energy needs for their long flight south. Occasionally, a Red kangaroo, or maybe a Grey, came by. Sometimes a female kangaroo with a baby Joey in her pouch, and Francene was delighted when she once saw a baby Joey lean forward from its mother’s pouch to drink from the pool. There were skinks and lizards of many species, and snakes too — large and small, venomous and non-venomous. The water close to the sheltered rock platform was still and clear. It was not affected by the bathing activities of the noisy Corellas or other visitors. So Francene could often see what was happening below the surface. There were many small aquatic creatures there, like those she lived with as a tadpole; the mosquito larvae, tiny fresh-water crustaceans which live in granite rock pools — fairy shrimps, seed shrimps, clam shrimps and water fleas — and dragonfly and damselfly nymphs, sneaking up on their prey. Then one day — what a surprise! Francene and Oceedee had been in their usual spot watching the passing parade, when Francene’s noticed an unusual movement deep in the water. ‘That wasn’t mosquito larvae!’ she thought. ‘It looked more like a baby tadpole.’ ‘Oh Oceedee!’ She exclaimed. ‘I think I saw some baby tadpoles down there. There might be frogs too … I must take a look.’ And saying this she started forward to enter the water. However, Oceedee saw a Little Egret standing statue-like in the shallow water, no more than a metre and a half away. ‘Wait on. Wait Francene!’ he cautioned — lifting one of his front legs to emphasise the point. ‘Don’t get too excited. That Little Egret will have you in a flash if you move away from shelter.’ 35

And so it was decided — they would wait until the cool of the evening, when there was less activity, and search around the pool together. The plan was for them to leave the little cave by the escape burrow at the back — which Francene had since modified for her use — and search the grassy knolls and rushes growing close to the water to the left of their shelter. Francene could then enter the water under cover and search for the tadpoles. 36

Oceedee went first. He could move faster than Francene with her slower jumping pace, and she waited while he checked the area like a forward scout, to be sure it was okay for her to leave the safety of the burrow. Then he lifted a front leg and waved her to join him, and they cautiously searched through the grassy knolls and rushes near the waters edge. To Francene’s delight, they quickly located not only one but two young male frogs sheltering among the rushes. At first, Francene was quite excited as she thought they may be of her species — the small Shoemaker Frog. But sadly no. One was a large, ‘bossy’, crimson bellied Banjo Frog, which called out ‘Plonk! … Plonk! … Plonk!’ as soon as he saw her. The other was an equally large, rather ‘snooty’ Motorbike Frog that called out ‘Barroom! … Barroom! … Barroom’ — like a motorbike changing gear. They weren’t really unfriendly, but quickly lost interest when they realised Francene was not a female of their species.

37

‘Shoemaker? Never heard of them! Sorry girl! I can't help you there.’ The swashbuckling Banjo Frog answered, ‘But you haven’t seen a girl Banjo Frog in your travels, have you? Plonk! … Plonk! … Plonk’. And the snooty Motorbike Frog didn’t answer at all. He just kept up his ‘Barroom! … Barroom! … Barroom!’ call. Leaving the two frogs to sing their ‘Barroom! … Plonk! … Barroom! … Plonk!’ chorus, Francene dived deep in the water, where she found some of the small tadpoles, she’d seen earlier, now hiding among the leaf matter and broken twigs. ‘Excuse me! … Excuse me! … I won’t hurt you … I just want to talk!’ she cried out, trying to catch their attention as they sped away in fright. But they wouldn’t stop for anything and being smaller they quickly passed through the clutter of leaves and twigs, to hide in the mud at the bottom of the pool. There was about six of them. They weren’t very well developed and although Francene only managed a brief glance as they sped away, they didn’t look like Shoemaker tadpoles at all. Sadly she returned to the surface and swam to her resting place under the rock ledge and if it hadn’t been for the water on her body you might have seen tears in her eyes — she was so unhappy. But she soon forgot her sadness as Oceedee rejoined her — carrying a couple of rather crumpled looking juicy insects in his mouth. ‘Hi! Francene. Cheer up! Look what I’ve brought for you!’ he greeted her, as he put the insects down. ‘There are heaps of them flying around. It must be going to rain. These insects sometimes come out just before rain. It’s great fun chasing and catching them on the rock slopes.’ Francene was delighted. The insects were winged termites — fat young termites equipped with wings, which enable them to fly from their home, shed their wings and hopefully form new colonies. They’re particularly juicy and nutritious, as they're in peak condition ready for breeding. And when they swarm (leave the nest in large numbers), they provide the bushland creatures with the chance of an unexpected tasty meal.

38

‘Oh, thank you Oceedee.’ Francene said, flicking out her long tongue to quickly draw the juicy insects in, swallowing them … crunch! … gulp! ‘Oooooow! They’re yummy’ she exclaimed. ‘Thank you for being so kind.’ And so they sat — looking out over the water — watching the birds and other small creatures chasing the swarming termites on the rock slope. Some termites fell in the water and were quickly taken from above or below as other predators joined the feast. Only a small number survived — but in dying they helped provide continuing life for other creatures in the food chain. Life and death always walk side by side in the bushland.

Speedee Time passed. Days became weeks, and the months dragged on, but little rain fell, and life in the rock pool community went on. Then one morning, as Francene and Oceedee were relaxing in their usual place on the sheltered rock ledge, Francene noticed a little dragonfly nymph slowly crawl from the water up a reed stem close by. It was an awkward, ugly little creature, and she could see by its slow stiff movements that it was about go through its finale stage of metamorphosis. Francene was really excited for although, as a tadpole, she’d undergone metamorphosis herself, she'd never seen another creature do the same.

40

‘Quick Oceedee!’ She cried, ‘There’s a dragonfly nymph here, and it’s about to change.’ ‘Wow!’ exclaimed Oceedee, as he scrambled closer, for he too had never seen the final process of metamorphosis. So they sat and watched. And watched … and waited … and waited. The final stage of a Dragonfly’s metamorphosis can sometimes take hours, and this was to be no different. Dragonflies and their close cousins the damselflies, belong to an order of insects called Odonata. They were around long before the dinosaurs, and are found in all temperate and tropical regions of the world. There are about 5,900 known species, and although they vary greatly in size and colour, they all have the same basic body structure.

2 pairs of wings Head 3 pairs of legs Abdomen

Thorax

The head of an adult dragonfly is little more than two large compound eyes, each consisting of thousands of tiny six-sided connected eye units. Together these tiny eye units give them nearly 360-degree vision both vertically and horizontally, and allow them to detect even the slightest movement. Their excellent eyesight and speed make them highly efficient hunters. They’re the hawks and tigers of the insect world, always on the prowl for mosquitoes, gnats, flies and similar small flying insects. They can fly very fast and some Australian dragonflies have been clocked at over 80km per hour. 41

Dragonflies have two tiny, short, hairlike antennae. Their fierce looking mouthparts (perhaps how they got the name ‘Dragonfly’) are designed for biting and scooping prey from the air. They have a long slender body, six forward facing legs and two pairs of lace-like delicate wings. Sometimes the front wings are slightly longer and narrower than the rear. Their wings are truly remarkable: they have specialised bends, blood-filled weights and tiny hairs, which allow them to sense which way the wind is blowing. Dragonflies can hover like a helicopter, and although it seems hard to believe, they can even fly upside down or backwards. No other creature has that level of control. However, they can’t fold their magnificent wings and have to hold them stretched out when resting. Adult female dragonflies lay their eggs in water. Their larvae, called nymphs, are small predators that dwell at the bottom of pools, and they have tiny unformed wings and a huge hinged lower jaw which they use to trap and devour their prey — the larvae of mosquitoes, crustaceans and other small aquatic insects. Depending on the species and temperature, nymphs may take up to three years to mature but most species take only twelve months. And, as they develop and grow, nymphs moult (shed their outer surface skin). Then, in the final stage of metamorphosis, they crawl out of the water, break out of their skin altogether and emerge as an adult dragonfly. 42

As Francene and Oceedee were soon to learn, the ugly little nymph they were watching was about to become a beautiful male Scarlet Percher Dragonfly (Diplacodes haematodes) — a species found in most temperate and tropical regions on the Australian mainland. There is an unmistakable contrast between the colouring of the male and female of this species. The entire body of the male, including the head and skeletal wing sections, is a brilliant, almost iridescent scarlet colour. The female is a pale yellow with black bands on her abdomen, and brownish tips to her wings. It was almost painful the way little nymph slowly climbed up the reed. More than once it paused, exhausted for a minute or two, before crawling on. Then, when it was about half a metre clear of the water, it moved no more and, hooking its clawlike feet into the surface of the reed, the nymph settled to dry out. Almost an hour passed before a small crack appeared down the back of the dry shell, gradually extending and widening, as the dragonfly wriggled and squirmed, struggling weakly to free himself. His bulging eye-sack head appeared first, followed by his upper body, legs and wings. Then he was finally clear — bowed and suspended upside down by the end of his tail hooked into the empty casing.

43

But there was little strength or colour in his newly emerged dragonfly body. Then the final miracle; he slowly pumped himself up with reddish coloured body fluid. His eye segments grew larger. His legs and stubby body filled out and became firmer, and his thin wings — which at first had the appearance of deflated balloons — slowly expanded like delicate fans. He was now complete, and sat on rather shaky legs, looking around his new world. It would take almost two days before his beautiful scarlet colours fully developed, but he could already feel his wing muscles firming and strengthening, and he knew he’d soon be able to fly. A fully formed male Scarlet Percher Dragonfly — S.P.D — Speedee would be a good name for this little dragonfly. Francene, watching this magical transformation, was fascinated, and Oceedee was completely overcome. He just lay watching in amazement, shaking his head in disbelief. Then disaster! The almost unthinkable happened. The rowdy corellas had been messing around in the shallow water at the other side of the pool, and several other bushland creatures were nearby. Suddenly, a Wedge-tail Eagle — which had been soaring high above the bushland — swooped low over the rocky outcrop to attack the frolicking corellas. With a triumphant yelp and a squeal, the Wedge-tail Eagle pinned and killed one unfortunate victim with its powerful talons. The other Corellas scattered in panic, screeching and splashing, colliding with one another as they scrambled to escape. Speedee, startled by the sudden noise and panic, also tried to fly off, but his immature wings were not ready for flying, and he simply flopped down on his back in the water. He was now in serious trouble — trapped, struggling on the surface, with only his large outstretched wings to save him from drowning. Francene and Oceedee were also shaken by the savagery of the eagle’s attack on the corellas. However, as soon as she saw what had happened to Speedee, Francene quickly recovered and dived in to try and save him.

44

‘Its okay’ she said, as she reached him, ‘Stop struggling and try to keep your head out of the water. I’ll help you.’ He did as she asked and Francene moved around his outstretched wings to support him — just as a surf lifesaver would — as she swam him towards the safety of the rock ledge, where Oceedee waited to help.

It wasn’t easy with Speedee’s large delicate wings clinging to the surface of the water, and it took Francene and Oceedee quite some time to pull him onto the small ledge without injuring him. ‘Careful! … Be Careful!’ Francene cautioned, as Oceedee tried to grip one of Speedee’s delicate wings, ‘And watch out for his skin and legs. He’s still not completely formed you know.’ ‘Oh! Thank you. I was so frightened. I would have drowned without your help.’ Speedee said in a quivering voice, ‘How will I ever repay your kindness?’ ‘There’s really no need.’ Francene said. ‘You can be our friend.’ Oceedee added, ‘And friends always help one another when they can.’ So, as the Wedge-tail Eagle flew off with its prey, calmness returned to the rock pool, and several small creatures and birds soon returned to drink. Speedee, helped by his new-found friends, made a rapid recovery. His wings quickly dried and he finished his ‘pumping up’ to his full size. He was ready; excited about making his first flight. Francene and Oceedee had to carefully manoeuvre him around — as people sometimes do with a small aeroplane — so he could fly forward into clear space. Speedee quivered his wings, moving them up and down a little to warm up his flight muscles and build their strength — he didn’t want to fail as he’d done before. Then gradually increasing speed, he achieved lift off, and was away flying out from the shelter, wobbling off over the water. After a rather shaky flight around the pool, Speedee returned to perch again on the reed stem near his empty nymph shell casing. Already his strength was growing, and his body colours becoming brighter, but it would still be a while before they fully bloomed, and he acquired the aerial acrobatic skill and speed of an adult dragonfly. And as he settled, Francene and Oceedee, who were watching close by congratulated him.

47

‘Well done,’ said Francene. ‘Wow!’ said Oceedee. ‘You look great! I wish I could fly like that. It must be really fun.’ ‘Thank you. I owe you both for my life’ said little Speedee. ‘I’ll always be your friend.’ And what a valuable friend Speedee would soon become.

Maudee Francene was always interested in the behaviour of the animals, birds and insects that visited the rock pool. Many came regularly, often several times a day, and not only to drink or look for food. Some seemed shy and nervous, arrogant or friendly, or looked sad or angry. Many wasps of different species visited the pool daily, to drink or hunt prey and most caused little fuss. But one large female wasp was different. She was a Mud Dauber wasp (Sceliphron laetum) and she always seemed angry; so threatening as she moved restlessly back and forth around the water’s edge, flicking her wings, or prowling the edge of the pool and nearby bushland with her long legs dangling loosely beneath her. Sometimes she hovered, almost still, focusing on a point of interest. Most insects and small creatures kept well out of her way, but Francene wondered why she seemed agitated, so angry, yet sad. Mud Daubers are one of the most common wasp species found throughout Australia. They are a family of large predatory, solitary wasps — meaning that they nest alone, not as a colony with a shared nest. And although they look rather fearsome, they’re not usually aggressive, but will deliver a painful sting if disturbed. The female wasp gathers mud to construct single cell brooding nests, one at a time, and up to as many as ten. This is where the name Mud Dauber comes from. Females usually outnumber males — who take no part in nest building. The female mates only once — storing sperm for later use. The Mud Dauber’s slightly arched body is a goldenyellow colour, circled by broad bands of black on the upper body and tail. A common characteristic of all wasps is their narrow waist, but Mud Daubers have an exceptionally long slender waist. In fact, they’re sometimes known as Slender Mud-nest Builders. 49

Mud Daubers have a pair of long narrow wings, two long antenna, a strong beak-like mouth with a curved tip, three pairs of long thin spider-like bent legs of varying length and a needle sharp painful sting in their tail. When walking, Mud Dauber wasps move with a jerky restless motion and flick their wings rapidly. When building her single chamber brooding nests the Mud Dauber uses her small front legs as arms — together with her beak — to gather, mix and apply (or daub) the mud. Then, choosing a soft-bodied juicy spider or caterpillar — which will be her baby’s first meal — she stings it; injecting her victim with a neurotoxin, a poison which paralyses the nervous system but leaves the victim alive. Next, she drags or carries the unfortunate creature to the cell, and places it at the bottom of the chamber and lays one egg on it. Then she continues to pack the nest with similarly paralysed insects, and seals it with mud before nightfall — and starts again. Studies show that Mud Dauber wasps are really very clever; they correctly gauge the amount (weight) of food their larvae will need to reach full size. By selectively filling the chamber with spiders (or similar insects) of varying size and body toughness, they ensure their baby will have a carefully controlled diet as it grows.

50

The wasp egg hatches as a tiny grub and happily munches its way through the larder its mother provided, progressively growing larger until, after all the food has gone, it pupates — becomes a pupae, meaning the fat grub now enters an almost dormant stage; its outer skin firms and ceases to grow whilst its metamorphosis continues within. The clay shell of the chamber protects the pupae like a cocoon until eventually the young adult wasp emerges and breaks through the chamber wall, and the cycle begins again. Then one day the wasp flew under the rock ledge where Francene lay watching. This wasp’s name was Maudee, based on her initials M. D., from Mud Dauber. ‘Good morning.’ Francene greeted Maudee, as she landed near her. She was not at all frightened by the wasp’s jerky movements and scary appearance, and when Maudee made no reply, she tried again. ‘Oh! Good morning … What are you looking for? Perhaps I could help?’ She offered. But again, Maudee made no attempt to answer … she just rose higher on her spindly legs and turned towards Francene in a threatening manner, her wings flicking rapidly making a kind of ‘berr-rup … berr-rup … berr-rup’ noise. She looked so scary; it would’ve made any creature fear she was about to attack, but not our Francene. 51

‘Now! … Now! … Come on, don’t be so cross. There’s no need. I only want to help. Why are you so angry?’ Francene asked again. ‘Oh it’s the mud! The mud! I can’t find any good mud! It’s all too crumbly! And there’s so little time!’ Maudee suddenly burst out … like the release of a pressure valve. It seemed that once she realised the little frog really was interested in her problem, she needed to tell it all. ‘I’ve tried three times already to build secure brooding nests for my babies, but the mud is so poor. The nests crumple and fall apart as soon as I try to stock them with spiders and caterpillars. I’ve worked so hard and I have to do it alone, and now my energy stocks are running out fast. I must find good mud somewhere, and build secure homes where my babies can hatch and grow.’ And as Maudee explained her feelings, it seemed to Francene that her appearance changed just a little. She looked less angry, far less threatening, and a little sad instead. Francene truly felt sorry for her. ‘Mud? Now where did I see some sticky mud?’ She asked herself. Then she remembered. It was at the deepest end of the rock-pool, close to the bottom, and there seemed to be plenty there. Of course what Francene didn’t yet know, it wasn’t just ‘sticky’ mud, it was clay — the ideal substance for wasp nest building. Francene slipped into the water and quickly swam to the bottom of the pool. Sure enough, there it was, low on the side bank near the end of the pool, a seam of sticky mud between the rock layers. Gilgies had dug many small holes in its soft surface and now other crustaceans, and small water insects played a dangerous game of hide and seek in the empty chambers. Gathering some of the sticky mud was simple for Francene. She simply backed herself up close to the bank (most burrowing frogs and toads work backwards like this), cleared the litter away and, using the hard skin on the back of her heels, she squirmed and kicked her way backwards into the clean soil. She made a small tunnel, almost the length of her body, squeezing the sticky soil out past her. Then, scooping up a mouthful like a small front-end earthloading machine, she returned to the surface and deposited it on the rock platform where Maudee stood. ‘Oh its clay!’ Maudee exclaimed, ‘The best ever. Where did you find it?’ 52

‘Not far down, and there’s plenty more.’ Francene said, delighted that Maudee was now so happy. ‘If that’s what you need, I’ll get more for you and my friend Oceedee will help.’ So the project began. Over the next several days, Francene made many trips to the clay seam, digging out small amounts of clay and bringing it to the surface. The sheltered rock platform became a small building construction site. As Francene brought each small load up Oceedee helped move it to the clay pile. And Maudee made mud pellets and carried them off to make the secure brooding chambers she so desperately wanted for her babies. And overhead, while the activity continued, Speedee patrolled like a tiny helicopter, keeping a close watch for predators, who would have welcomed the chance of catching Francene unawares. Finally, the task was done. Maudee had the best brooding nests ever — really solid and secure. And Francene, Oceedee and Speedee had a very grateful new friend.

54

Kaybee the Raider The swashbuckling Banjo Frog never had a chance. Resting in a clump of dry grass on the edge of the pool he had no place to hide. His fate was sealed the moment the hungry snake ‘tasted’ the air with its tongue and detected his presence and smell. A quick strike, the injection of potent venom, paralysis, death, one gulp, and he was gone. The first small meal the raider had tasted for months. Like most of the other bushland creatures, times had been hard for the large snake as the summer dragged on. He'd ranged far and wide seeking prey. Then his instinct and hunger led him back to the rock pool; the little permanent water source, where, in spite of the drought, some bushland creatures still gathered. He was bound to find prey there. Many years had passed since his last visit. But, he had dined well there. A juicy bobtail and a couple of small ones too — he remembered. 55

Yes! This was the raider that took the lives of great Uncle Beetee’s partner and two of his off-spring so long ago. The very one! The new arrival was an Australian Mulga Snake, commonly known as a ‘King Brown’ (Pseudechis australis) — Kaybee the raider. Common throughout most of Australia, the King Brown is one of Australia’s most venomous snakes. They lay eggs as a method of reproduction, and feed largely on smaller snakes, lizards, skinks and frogs or whatever else they can catch. As they bite, they pump venom into their prey to paralyse and kill it, then they swallow it whole. Their two-piece lower jaw separates and expands to accommodate larger victims, such as Bobtails — the ligaments stretching like an elastic band. When the season is poor, the King Brown can go without food for as long as six months, then gorge itself when the opportunity arises. Kaybee was a large, sleek-looking, moderately stout snake, at least 15 to 20 years old and almost two metres in length. And like most King Brown snakes, the upper surface scales on his powerful muscular body were a glossy dark brown, fading to a lighter shade on his belly. ‘Quickly! Run and hide! Run and hide! The snake’s coming!’ Speedee shouted in alarm, as he swept in under the overhanging granite shelf and hovered close to the little landing. Francene and Oceedee needed no second warning. As quick as two flashes they turned and entered the narrow opening to the little cave beyond. Oceedee had no trouble, but it was a bit of a squeeze for Francene, now that she was plumper. Then they were through and safe, and just in time too, for as Speedee had guessed, even as Kaybee swallowed the unfortunate Banjo Frog, he was moving towards their hiding place. He was right there behind them, his large powerful body stretched forward over the water, his upper body and head supported on the narrow landing as he searched and probed. However, he found the opening to the little cave was too small for him to follow. He soon turned away to search elsewhere for an easier meal.

56

Speedee flew quickly to Great Uncle Beetee and told him of Oceedee’s and Francene’s narrow escape from the raider. And he also let Maudee know what was happening. A sense of terror soon spread through the bushland community. None were safe from the hunting skills of a King Brown snake, particularly one as hungry as Kaybee. Those that could, took flight, or tried to find a safe place to shelter or hide.

The news of Kaybee’s arrival caused Great Uncle Beetee much anguish and regret; sad memories of his partner’s and children’s death returned. He thought also of members of his extended family, and of others who may die. He had little chance of escaping the raider. His only advantage was Speedee’s early warning, and his own intimate knowledge of the many small shelters around his territory. Missing his chance of having Oceedee and Francene as a meal, Kaybee was now searching for prey on the rock slopes on the other side of the pool — giving Oceedee the opportunity to leave the cave via the rear escape burrow, and join Great Uncle Beetee, Speedee and Maudee. ‘What can we do?’ Oceedee asked. ‘Not much I’m afraid.’ Great Uncle Beetee replied. ‘He’s bound to find me soon. If only we could find a way to drive him off. We must try to form a plan and do what we can.’ ‘I’ll keep a watch on his every move.’ Speedee volunteered. ‘And I’ll help too.’ Maudee added. ‘But Uncle Beetee,’ Oceedee asked, looking fondly at his elderly relative, ‘How can you escape? You won’t get far with your poor stumpy leg.’

‘I’ll try to find shelter. He may get me, but he’ll have a good fight if he does,’ Great Uncle Beetee announced determinedly. Suddenly Speedee — who has risen like a small helicopter to scan the area for Kaybee — shouted out, ‘Oh! Look. The snake is trying to get down the burrow to Francene in the cave. What can we do?’ They had no answer! Oceedee quickly ran towards the burrow, with Maudee and Speedee following overhead. Kaybee was already part way down the burrow, squirming about trying to force his powerful body further, but he couldn’t go deeper because the burrow was too rocky and narrow. Kaybee could sense Francene sheltering in the cave below. He could ‘taste’ her fear. If he kept trying he just may force himself down. But what was this? Something was striking his exposed body from behind. Was he under attack? Oceedee had bravely jumped on the snake’s back and was stamping his tiny feet up and down. It was hardly life threatening. What hope would a little Dragon Lizard have in a contest with a large King Brown snake? Oceedee was just trying to annoy the huge snake, and divert its attention away from Francene. 59

Wow! The result was electrifying. Kaybee shook himself free of the burrow and, in the same movement struck at Oceedee, who, only a second before, had jumped to the ground and started running as he detected the snake’s intention. The snake’s strike missed and the race was on. Although an angry King Brown snake can move very fast, so too can a little Dragon Lizard, and Oceedee had the advantage of knowing his territory well. And even though it was a close match, Oceedee was the more agile, and Kaybee soon gave up the chase. He reasoned he had more chances elsewhere — perhaps he might have another try with the burrow? But, as he returned along the ridge, his forked tongue, ever flicking, as it ‘tasted’ the air, suddenly detected Great Uncle Beetee, sheltering under a large rock-slab. The underside of the rock was hollowed out slightly, providing good cover for the old Bobtail. He managed to squeeze in, and turn his body around; so only part of his snout was exposed yet still protected by the low edge of the rock slab.

60

Normally, a King Brown snake wouldn’t be interested in a battered old Bobtail Skink. They’re nowhere near as meaty and flavoursome as a younger one — but there wasn’t much on offer, and Kaybee was far too hungry to be choosy. For a skilled well-equipped hunter like Kaybee, it was a simple matter to ‘suss-out’ where Great Uncle Beetee was hiding. He moved in for the kill. Speedee and Maudee hovering above and Oceedee observing from the top of a nearby rock slab, could only watch and wait as Kaybee attacked. He first tried a frontal approach, but although he could get his slightly wedge-shaped head under the edge of the rock, because of the sloped surface, he couldn’t open his jaws wide enough to bite. Poor old Great Uncle Beetee could do nothing apart from ‘keeping his cool’ and hissing. Kaybee wasn’t about to give up. When his frontal approach failed the wily snake realised that by turning his head sideways he may be able to bite. So he changed tactic. However, in the confined space under the rock, Kaybee’s accuracy and strike speed suffered. The tough scales on Great Uncle Beetee’s snout also made penetration very difficult, and to add to Kaybee’s problem, the Bobtail kept flicking his head sideways each time the snake struck. But Kaybee maintained his attack. Oceedee suddenly had a plan, ‘What if I could distract the snake like I did before?’ the brave little Dragon Lizard thought. ‘If I could get it to chase me again, perhaps Great Uncle Beetee could escape.’ There was a chance it might work, he must at least try. So, dismissing thoughts of danger to himself, Oceedee leapt onto the raider’s back and kicked and stomped for all his worth. It didn’t hurt Kaybee, but he did notice the intrusion and paused in his attack, turning his head to see what was happening. Wham! It was the one opportunity Great Uncle Beetee needed. The tenacious old fighter, reacting with lightning speed, shot forward and seized the huge snake by its throat with his vice like jaws. It was a perfect strike — close to the snake’s head — crushing its windpipe and preventing it from breathing. How quickly the roles were reversed — the victim was now the aggressor. But, although the odds had become more even, the fight had yet to be won.

61

Kaybee thrashed about, trying to drag the old bobtail from his rock shelter, his body coils twisting and grasping at the rock, trying to ensnare and crush Great Uncle Beetee. But although Great Uncle Beetee had his body hooked in the rock cavity, the snake was stronger, and he was slowly losing ground. Once pulled clear of his shelter he’d soon be crushed in Kaybee’s powerful coils. Maudee and Speedee still watched overhead, and Oceedee prancing around nearby had to keep well clear of the wrestling combatants. The drama was almost over, it was only a matter of time — Great Uncle Beetee’s death seemed inevitable, nothing more could be done. Then, a last chance. Maudee saw how she could help. It was suddenly clear. She dropped down and clung to Kaybee’s head, injecting him time and again with her paralysing wasp poison. 62

The pain was really intense. All poor Kaybee wanted now was to escape from the Bobtail and the angry wasp. He’d come to the rock-pool for a feed, but never expected this. So he uncoiled his huge body and tried to wriggle away as fast as he could, with Great Uncle Beetee still clinging to his throat. And when Great Uncle Beetee realised the fight was over; he released his grip, allowing the snake to quickly recover and disappear. What a relief! Great Uncle Beetee survived — thanks to his friends. The raider was gone, and peace returned once more to the bushland.

63

New Life As the morning sun rose higher, Francene’s thoughts turned fondly to her friends and their loyalty. Many weeks had passed since Kaybee the raider had been put to flight and the community made safe. Great Uncle Beetee’s battle with Kaybee had become a legend, and stories of Oceedee’s bravery and the involvement of Speedee and Maudee in the old Bobtail’s rescue, would be told forever. Francene knew too well that she wouldn’t have survived the snake’s attack without her friends combined help. 64

As she sat there pleasantly basking in the sun, she looked across

from

the

landing to where her little friend Speedee perched

on

his

favourite reed stem. He was just waking up,

smoothing

the

creases from his wings and preparing for his first early

morning

territorial

flight — to chase off any wouldbe trespassers. A gentle breeze was bringing lacy cloud cover from the north-west, and there was a light halo about the pale morning sun. It was quite warm and humid for such an early hour, and there was a funny, unusual feeling in the air. Francene felt somewhat strange too — as though she could sense something was about to happen. Something was not right, but she didn’t know what. Speedee had by now commenced his patrol, but his flight pattern seemed rather odd — even weird. He was doing strange little loop the loops and the occasional barrel roll. Francene had never seen him perform such aerobatics before. ‘Whatever are you doing Speedee?’ she called to him, as he pulled out of a steep crash dive just before hitting the water’s surface. ‘Nothing really. I just feel good,’ he replied, as he soured skywards again, like a tiny stunt plane.

65

‘Whatever can be happening?’ Francene thought, as she noticed that the ants too, always foraging aimlessly on the water’s edge, seemed to be forming up in single file marching order. ‘Why?’ Then adding to the puzzle, Maudee and Oceedee on their morning visit, arrived almost together. Then Maudee, who usually seemed a little too serious, tried to do a funny little pirouette on one spindly leg as she landed, but lost her balance. And Oceedee (not to be outdone) jumped up and down with his four legs waggling and his tail sticking up. It was all so funny, and they had a good laugh together. ‘Whatever are you up to?’ Francene laughed, as they quietened down, ‘Everyone is behaving so differently this morning, and I feel a bit strange too.’ But her friends had no real answer. They just felt good, a bit light hearted. So they settled beside her and discussed what it was that seemed different. The sun’s halo faded, as the cloud cover thickened, becoming more opaque in the fading light. The slow-moving cloud band spread and gradually grew darker, blocking out the sun, and it seemed as though the day was becoming warmer and more humid. Then, almost at once, Francene realised what these signs meant and her tiny heart soared. ‘Rain! Rain! That’s what it is. It’s the rain … coming at last,’ she announced as she gleefully jumped up and down. And she was right. In less than an hour the rain started, light and scattered showers at first gradually increasing to become widespread heavy rain, that continued on and off for almost a week. The season had broken. The parched bushland was soaked; clay pans, catchments and creeks overflowed to become water highways and bridges for eager migrating frogs and other aquatic life. And it wasn’t just the aquatic life. It seemed as though the whole bushland was awaking from its long sleep. The little dry watercourse leading from higher on the granite outcrop became a stream that soon overflowed the rock pool, the spillage creating smaller pools as it channelled lower. Migrating frogs, of many species, both 66

male and female, soon appeared and there were a few skirmishes as the males competed for territory, some rejoining the flow to travel further on. And the newly arrived male frogs almost immediately advertised their presence and availability. There was such a noise — high pitched squeaks and squeals; mournful moans; plonkaty plinks and plinkaty plonks; rrriicck rrriiccks; barroom barrooms and others. What a racket! It sounded like a mismatched choir singing out of tune.

But the medley of sound was sweet music to Francene’s ears, for among all the noise, her keen hearing picked out the distinctive ‘tap tap … tap tap tap’ — the mating call of the male Shoemaker Frog. And she knew she would soon have a mate. She wouldn’t be lonely for the company of other Shoemaker frogs anymore.

Petrudor Rocks Geraldton

Petrudor Rocks is a large granite rock outcrop in a bushland reserve in the Mid-West Region of Western Australia, about 200 kilometres north-east of Perth and 33 kilometres east of Pithara, in the Shire of Dalwallinu. During the wildflower season, Petrudor Rocks becomes a popular picnic spot. There are BBQ and toilet facilities, and a beautiful spring fed rock pool — no bigger than a child’s backyard trampoline. As the locality has low irregular rainfall, the little freshwater pool is a vital resource for wildlife in the area. It is also an ideal habitat for several arid zone frog species. However, there can be a huge fluctuation — rise and fall — in frog population numbers.

RA

In a good season, with plenty of rain, breeding conditions become ideal and large numbers of tadpoles and frogs inhabit and even overcrowd the little rock pool. But when there LAKE is little follow up rain and arid GOORLY conditions apply, the little pool can quickly become a disaster area. Whole populations may be wiped out, either Dalwallinu dying from lack of food or — as it is meant to be — by becoming food in someone else’s tummy. Tadpoles and frogs are an important part of the food chain in any ecosystem and are eaten by just about everything — including other aquatic insects and creatures, snakes, rats and other bushland animals and birds. BBI

TP

RO

F OF

ENC

E

Perth

LAKE MOORE

Acknowledgements I could not have told the fascinating life story of Francene and her wildlife friends without the invaluable guidance of several government agencies, dedicated wildlife authorities and enthusiasts. I found the task both challenging and stimulating, and I learnt so much. I gratefully acknowledge the support of Ron Johnstone, Terry Houston, Paul Doughty and Brad Maryan of the Western Australian Museum; Matt Warnock and Penny Hussey of the Department of CALM (now Department of Parks and Wildlife); Nikki Beynon, Perth Zoo; Neil Bennett, the Bureau of Meteorology (Perth Office); Mieke Gaikhorst, the Armadale Reptile and Wildlife Centre; Gane and June Doyle, the West Australian Reptile Park; Dean Bradshaw — lizardkingwa.com; The Herdsman Wildlife Centre (Gould League); Brian Bush; Eric McCrum; Jan Taylor; and the academic staff and post graduate students at the School of Animal Biology, University of Western Australia. I am particularly grateful to Associate Professor Dale Roberts; Head of the School of Animal Biology, University of Western Australia, who made time in his busy work schedule to review the final manuscript of Francene and endorsed its biological accuracy. Public awareness is becoming more focused on conservation and the preservation of our native flora and fauna. Mount Gibson Iron’s generous sponsorship funding, to enable publication of Francene, is a positive expression of the company’s commitment to the preservation of our natural habitat. I am grateful to Mount Gibson for their generous support. I also wish to thank the children who read early drafts of Francene and whose positive comments encouraged me to continue — Ryan Harradine, Annika and Jaclyn McTaggart, Amy Geddes and Dylan L’Herpiniere. Finally, I thank my wife, June, who put up with my obsession and earlymorning writing sessions, as Francene seemed to almost take over my life.

71

About the Author Bob (Robert Burns) Primrose was born at Nannup, Western Australia, in 1933. At age 14 years, he left school to commence a trade apprenticeship. In 1952 he joined the West Australian Police Force and served in a number of metropolitan, country and specialised postings before retiring in April 1988 at the rank of Superintendent. In 1996, Bob began writing non-fiction and has since been successful as a researcher and writer. His attention to detail and easy-reading writing style makes for informative and entertaining reading. His previous books are Mister Bob (Access Press 1996) and On the Beat and in the Bush (Access Press 1998) — detailing his early experiences as a front-line police officer. In 2006, these memoirs were expanded and combined as Frontline Policing: On the Beat and in the Bush with Mister Bob. In 2010 he produced an early childhood memoir, Tall Timber, Brown Paper and Porridge.

72

The Western Australian outback is a harsh, unforgiving landscape — full of danger for small native animals. Francene is the exciting, educational adventure of a tiny Shoemaker Frog from tadpole to adulthood and the special friends she makes along her amazing life-journey. A fascinating mix of fact and fantasy — Francene introduces children of all ages to the wonderous world of some of our lesser-known wildlife.

Western Australian Museum