Since having to replace our beloved Nissan with a Landcruiser last year, we have spent quite a lot of money and Steve has spent quite a lot of time bringing it up to some semblance of the features we had with the Nissan. As we like to go off the beaten track, although we haven't done it for a while, there is a need for certain extras on a 4wd. Actually that word 'need' can be misconstrued. We probably don't really 'need' these extras but we like to have them for our trips away. It has been a financial shock to us because all our Nissan developments were carried out over 10 years when we had two incomes for a lot of that time. However, trying to rebuild another vehicle in months rather than years on one income is challenging.
Steve's latest development for the 4wd became necessary not by choice but more by a forcing of the hand. The cruiser has both unleaded fuel and gas onboard which is what it came with. Towing the caravan with gas is not impossible but tedious and frustrating because the car lacks power and with several tonnes behind you, power is necessary. Steve uses gas around town because it is slightly more economical than fuel especially when he has to go to Tully which is 100 kms away. Several weeks ago, Steve refilled the car with gas, which itself is frustrating because the cheapest gas supplier in Ingham runs out on a regular basis. After spending almost $90 to refuel, Steve noticed a smell of gas when he returned to work. His investigations lead to the discovery of a leak in one of the gas lines running from the tank to the engine. Suddenly all that gas he had just bought became unusable because he had to isolate the leak and shut off the gas line.
Our next dilemma was......do we repair the leaking line or take the entire gas system out and replace it with a long range petrol tank because the gas idea wasn't really right for us. Steve made enquiries with several automotive gas fitters in Townsville, none of whom were willing to give us a price to replace the line or remove the entire system. It seems that auto gas fitters need to see the vehicle and "assess" the circumstances before quoting prices. In Steve's eyes, this just wasn't gonna happen. Why commit yourself to driving a vehicle all the way to Townsville without knowing whether their price is going to be reasonable or not. Anyway, Steve in his usual style, believed that he could take the system out himself so then we just needed to find a replacement fuel tank.
I was somewhat concerned about the potential for a mini blevvy to occur while Steve was removing the tank and related pipework. We learnt the term 'blevvy' during a dangerous goods course while driving trucks a few years earlier. Basically it's the small nuclear event which occurs when a truck gas tanker ignites and explodes. Not pretty and not much left in the vicinity. Mmmm! DIYers are a worry.
After more phone calls and enquiries, it became clear that a second hand long range tank was also not going to be on the agenda. Steve made calls to Mareeba in the Atherton Tablelands right down to Bundaberg and nobody had one. I even looked up wreckers online for Steve to ring. He then started enquiring about prices and availability of new tanks and whether buying one in Adelaide and adding postage would be cheaper than buying one in Townsville. Steve, not being a patient person, was most concerned about the 6 week wait to have a tank made because no-one stocked these larger tanks. A 4WD retailer called ARB in Townsville had the cheapest price, amazingly enough, but that 6 week wait was stopping Steve from making a decision.
A few days later Steve rang me and his first words to me were....."I'm excited!" Naturally my first reaction was that he'd rung to tell me something helicopter related like a flight had been planned or something like that. Imagine my disappointment when he said that he'd found not one but three long range tanks in ARB's Cairns store and that they were $5 cheaper than Townsville. I was happy about his news regarding the tanks but was hoping for something different I suppose. Anyway that coming Saturday became a roadtrip to Cairns to pickup a long range tank.
Wednesday, 17 April 2013
Saturday, 23 February 2013
The Story of Smudge
Brindle has six siblings of varying colours and personalities, three of which were kept by the people who gave her to us. The family live in a house on a cane farm and keep feral pigs in check for a reduction in rent. Steve B trains new puppies for pig hunting and either onsells them to people who need them or keeps them for his own purposes. We have learnt since being in far north Queensland that pig hunting is necessary on most rural properties up here because pigs damage cane. They generally take refuge in the national parks up in the ranges where they are protected by law. However when it rains and during the night, the pigs come down from the ranges and create havoc in the cane fields where they can't be disturbed because the farmers can't get onto their land. Pigs browse along the cane rows and take bites out of a cane stalk at the base causing it to fall over and render it useless.
Unfortunately the practise of pig hunting has a small human element which gives the pastime a bad name, particularly young guys who think having a pig dog on the back of their ute makes them look tough. Most land owners keep these dogs for a purpose and they are trained properly and contained securely. Yes Brindle is most likely part bull arab which is a proper dog breed bred especially for pigging. Her kelpie mother, however, has passed on her appearance and temperament making her a beautiful dog who makes us laugh when she is not getting herself into all kinds of misadventure.
One of Brindle's brothers, a puppy called Smudge, was kept by Steve B because he showed all the good traits for pig hunting, both in build and personality. He was called Smudge because of the black smudge on his shoulders when the rest of his coat was tan. The family have two adult dogs and the three puppies. Quite regularly, one of the older dogs goes on little adventures while the family are asleep or away from the house and he takes the puppies with him. Simba, the dog in question, manages to escape his cage and the puppies too, especially Smudge, also manage to escape their confines for a bit of adventure. No matter when and where they go they always come back, however several weeks ago that didn't happen. Steve B had woken up in the early hours of the morning and gone downstairs to find Simba loose in the yard covered in mud and ticks. Realising that he had been exploring again, Steve B put him back in his cage and went back to bed.
The next morning when the family checked on the puppies, Smudge was missing. He obviously had not come back with the others and because the puppies weren't loose in yard during the night, no-one had suspected that they had been out exploring and so hadn't checked them. The other two pups were also covered in mud and ticks and were quite timid, not wanting to come out of their pen which was unusual. Steve B spent a considerable amount of time searching for Smudge but came back empty handed every time. This happened about a week after the Ingham flood and this family live close to the Herbert River. As the dogs all came back muddy, it was becoming increasingly obvious that their little adventure had taken them down to the Herbert River which is crawling with crocodiles, especially after they had been displaced by the floodwaters. The chances of Smudge being a victim of a croc attack was becoming more likely. This would explain the other puppies timidness because witnessing such a horrific event would definitely have made them nervous.
Two weeks went by and still no sign of Smudge. They put ads in the local paper and in the school newsletter but no-one responded. The family own a house in town but rent it out preferring the country lifestyle to the town. Steve B however, does spend time at the house in an office he has set up for his work as a pastor. Yes.......a pastor that pig hunts. It must be the new age of religious flexibility and understanding which encourages family and other pursuits not generally associated with some religions. Nearly three weeks after Smudge's disappearance, and when it was concluded that his fate had been a crocodile, Steve B spotted a dog like Smudge out of his office window in town. He dismissed the sighting as unlikely but as the dog wandered away, he decided to chase it down to see if he could find an owner, knowing what it was like to lose a dog. As he approached the dog in his vehicle, it stopped, looked and bounded up to Steve B when he called his name. Yep....it was Smudge looking in general good health despite his ordeal (whatever that was) but missing his collar. So Smudge has been returned to his family by quite remarkable circumstances and with lots of questions which will probably never be answered. What was he doing nearly 15 kilometres from home in Ingham where he had never been before? How was it that he happened to be wandering down an Ingham street right past his owner's house where his owner was at that time? Steve B stopped short of calling it a miracle but was nonetheless staggered at the circumstances that brought Smudge back to them.
The only other plausible explanation at the time of his disappearance was that someone had picked him up while the dogs were all out adventuring. However because it was the middle of the night and Hawkins Creek, where the family lives, is usually quiet, they thought it unlikely. Now that Smudge has turned up again, and in town, it is becoming more likely that he WAS picked up by someone who claimed ownership of him and brought him back to town. Smudge's houdini-like tendencies to escape from captivity would possibly be a reason why he was wandering the streets of Ingham and returned to his family. So the one thing that got Smudge into trouble in the first place (his escape artist ways) has brought him full circle and back home again.
Unfortunately the practise of pig hunting has a small human element which gives the pastime a bad name, particularly young guys who think having a pig dog on the back of their ute makes them look tough. Most land owners keep these dogs for a purpose and they are trained properly and contained securely. Yes Brindle is most likely part bull arab which is a proper dog breed bred especially for pigging. Her kelpie mother, however, has passed on her appearance and temperament making her a beautiful dog who makes us laugh when she is not getting herself into all kinds of misadventure.
One of Brindle's brothers, a puppy called Smudge, was kept by Steve B because he showed all the good traits for pig hunting, both in build and personality. He was called Smudge because of the black smudge on his shoulders when the rest of his coat was tan. The family have two adult dogs and the three puppies. Quite regularly, one of the older dogs goes on little adventures while the family are asleep or away from the house and he takes the puppies with him. Simba, the dog in question, manages to escape his cage and the puppies too, especially Smudge, also manage to escape their confines for a bit of adventure. No matter when and where they go they always come back, however several weeks ago that didn't happen. Steve B had woken up in the early hours of the morning and gone downstairs to find Simba loose in the yard covered in mud and ticks. Realising that he had been exploring again, Steve B put him back in his cage and went back to bed.
The next morning when the family checked on the puppies, Smudge was missing. He obviously had not come back with the others and because the puppies weren't loose in yard during the night, no-one had suspected that they had been out exploring and so hadn't checked them. The other two pups were also covered in mud and ticks and were quite timid, not wanting to come out of their pen which was unusual. Steve B spent a considerable amount of time searching for Smudge but came back empty handed every time. This happened about a week after the Ingham flood and this family live close to the Herbert River. As the dogs all came back muddy, it was becoming increasingly obvious that their little adventure had taken them down to the Herbert River which is crawling with crocodiles, especially after they had been displaced by the floodwaters. The chances of Smudge being a victim of a croc attack was becoming more likely. This would explain the other puppies timidness because witnessing such a horrific event would definitely have made them nervous.
Two weeks went by and still no sign of Smudge. They put ads in the local paper and in the school newsletter but no-one responded. The family own a house in town but rent it out preferring the country lifestyle to the town. Steve B however, does spend time at the house in an office he has set up for his work as a pastor. Yes.......a pastor that pig hunts. It must be the new age of religious flexibility and understanding which encourages family and other pursuits not generally associated with some religions. Nearly three weeks after Smudge's disappearance, and when it was concluded that his fate had been a crocodile, Steve B spotted a dog like Smudge out of his office window in town. He dismissed the sighting as unlikely but as the dog wandered away, he decided to chase it down to see if he could find an owner, knowing what it was like to lose a dog. As he approached the dog in his vehicle, it stopped, looked and bounded up to Steve B when he called his name. Yep....it was Smudge looking in general good health despite his ordeal (whatever that was) but missing his collar. So Smudge has been returned to his family by quite remarkable circumstances and with lots of questions which will probably never be answered. What was he doing nearly 15 kilometres from home in Ingham where he had never been before? How was it that he happened to be wandering down an Ingham street right past his owner's house where his owner was at that time? Steve B stopped short of calling it a miracle but was nonetheless staggered at the circumstances that brought Smudge back to them.
The only other plausible explanation at the time of his disappearance was that someone had picked him up while the dogs were all out adventuring. However because it was the middle of the night and Hawkins Creek, where the family lives, is usually quiet, they thought it unlikely. Now that Smudge has turned up again, and in town, it is becoming more likely that he WAS picked up by someone who claimed ownership of him and brought him back to town. Smudge's houdini-like tendencies to escape from captivity would possibly be a reason why he was wandering the streets of Ingham and returned to his family. So the one thing that got Smudge into trouble in the first place (his escape artist ways) has brought him full circle and back home again.
Friday, 22 February 2013
The Great Flood
By biblical standards it wasn't epic. Even by the standards of Inghamites, it wasn't worth worrying about too much but to us newbees, it was an amazing natural phenomenon. There were whispers around town that the rain was going to eventuate into flooding. This is nothing new for Ingham as the town pretty much floods at least once a season but the hows, whens and wheres are always different. It depends on what catchment gets what rain and what rivers and creeks stem from said catchment. Then there are questions about how long it has rained for and how saturated the ground is beforehand. Then one has to throw in the local element whereby everyone has their own opinion about where it will flood and how high it will get. Most people tended to compare any floods to the major 2009 floods which was when Brisbane went under and followed closely by cyclone Yasi in 2010. That year was Ingham's biggest flood since 1967 and the latest benchmark by which to compare other floods.
When we woke up on the Thursday morning and looked out of the window, we were gobsmacked. Everywhere around us was under water and not just a little bit but a lot. There was no grass, no concrete and the bottom couple of steps up to the house were missing. The road was gone and street signs and telegraph poles were sitting midstream as if they had been in the wrong place. The creek which naturally flows from south to north was flowing in the opposite direction. At the tributary with the Herbert River water had started flowing back down the channel pushing the creek water back. As there was nowhere for the water to escape, it just flooded the town as it pushed back inland.
It is a very eery feeling stepping down into brown muddy water. Although you are quite sure of the depth, there is always that feeling of uncertainty that something may have washed away and left a big hole under your feet. It's also unnerving not knowing what is actually in the water with you when you can't see into it. Steve and I tentatively stepped around and I could feel the grass and concrete under my feet even though I couldn't see it. The Landcruiser which Steve had parked on the high side of the block was nearly up to the doors with water. He quickly jumped in and drove it along people's front gardens and across the flooded road to where it was safe and dry once again. When we opened the door to the bottom level of the house, we were greeted with brown water all through the rooms. Thankfully everything on the tables had not been touched but our council recycle bin had tipped up and recycling debris was bobbing up and down in the murky water. A couple of towels that were hanging on my underground clothes line were dangling in the water so Steve flipped them over the line. We didn't dare open the door to the shower and toilet knowing full well that it would look no better than anywhere else downstairs. After looking around, all we could do was shut the door and wait. I waded carefully out onto the reserve near the edge of the carport to look and take some photos. It was eerily quiet and still and the water reflected the houses which it surrounded.
Some time later, Steve waded down the street with the dog to go to work while the girls and I stayed stranded. The spectacle was beginning as people from other areas of town were coming down to look. Several people drove their cars down the street, realised that the road was blocked and u-turned to go back. We only realised after the flooding subsided that our area was cut off from most of the town. An aluminium tinny arrived to ferry people to their houses and out again as there was no possibility of walking. Some friends called from the far bank to see if we were alright and to let them know if we needed anything. Calls from other people during the morning made it clear that we weren't the only ones flooded in although we tended to have 'wetter feet' than anyone else.
Throughout the day, I watched with interest as locals, young and old, amused us from our vantage point. On several occasions, young guys either waded or more often swam from one end of the street to the other. One lad decided to do a few laps in our reserve while his mates watched from the safety of dry land. Although the likelihood of crocodiles was slim, it still wasn't smart to tempt fate and serve yourself up as a tasty morsel should one be around. Several 4-wds chugged through bonnet deep water and one gentleman in particular, an elderly man, glided along Hawkins street like he'd been doing it all his life. Of course many attempted the crossing but either 'chickened out' or failed miserably and bobbed. A woman waded through the water with arms upstretched to reach her mothers' place across the road from us. A group of three adventure seekers floated down the fast flowing torrent in an inner tube which got caught in a tree. All three took some effort to free themselves and continued on their merry way.
I photographed a cane toad doing breast stroke past our front porch and at one stage an unknown slithery creature was trying desperately to get above the tide line and out of the water. I don't think it was a baby snake but more likely a leech. Anyway I wasn't going to get any closer to find out. Bubbles were constantly rising up in the floodwaters like some phantom scuba diver was swimming around in the murkiness. It was the air pockets in the ground slowly being replaced by water and releasing bubbles. One thing that was noticeable was the almost eery silence of any birds during the flood. The usual calls which could be heard throughout the day were absent until the water has subsided.
All the sinks in the house were unusable because the floodwater had filled the drains and so no water was able to get away from the house. I had dishes on the sink a mile high. Erin and I were also quite mindful of toilet flushing and whether that was going to be as problematic as the sinks. We had been delaying using the toilet as long as possible when all of a sudden we heard flushing. Becca had decided to take herself to the toilet without letting anyone know and, of course, flushed. Erin and I ran screaming into the toilet to stop her. Becca looked at us like 'what was all the fuss about' as we all stood gazing into the bowl waiting for it to rise up and overflow. Nothing happened! To sighs of relief, we walked away knowing that we may have a couple of flushes up our sleeves for the day but we still needed to be careful. I could only imagine the issue if this flood was to last a week as it did in 2009.
At midday, the floodwaters had peaked and then started to recede. By dinner that night I was able to use the sinks again and there was more likelihood of us being able to have a shower. Grass was now visible in the muddy water and the house steps were exposed again. When we woke up the next morning, it was as if nothing had happened. The only indicator of a flood was the mud covered grass and the silty slurry on the concrete paths and floors under the house. Hawkins street was clear and cars were driving past again as they had been two days before. For several days the grass squelched under our feet when we walked on it and we didn't put any vehicles under the carport because the ground was so boggy. Not a good look to have to use 4-wd to get out of your driveway in town. It was Sunday before we returned our caravan back under the monolith. This flood had been unexpectedly silent in that it crept up on us and although we knew it was coming, had no idea how all comsuming it would be........and it wasn't even serious in the eyes of the locals. We just didn't expect to get up in the morning and see the extent to which the water had risen and how much of our area was swamped. It certainly opened our eyes.
When we woke up on the Thursday morning and looked out of the window, we were gobsmacked. Everywhere around us was under water and not just a little bit but a lot. There was no grass, no concrete and the bottom couple of steps up to the house were missing. The road was gone and street signs and telegraph poles were sitting midstream as if they had been in the wrong place. The creek which naturally flows from south to north was flowing in the opposite direction. At the tributary with the Herbert River water had started flowing back down the channel pushing the creek water back. As there was nowhere for the water to escape, it just flooded the town as it pushed back inland.
It is a very eery feeling stepping down into brown muddy water. Although you are quite sure of the depth, there is always that feeling of uncertainty that something may have washed away and left a big hole under your feet. It's also unnerving not knowing what is actually in the water with you when you can't see into it. Steve and I tentatively stepped around and I could feel the grass and concrete under my feet even though I couldn't see it. The Landcruiser which Steve had parked on the high side of the block was nearly up to the doors with water. He quickly jumped in and drove it along people's front gardens and across the flooded road to where it was safe and dry once again. When we opened the door to the bottom level of the house, we were greeted with brown water all through the rooms. Thankfully everything on the tables had not been touched but our council recycle bin had tipped up and recycling debris was bobbing up and down in the murky water. A couple of towels that were hanging on my underground clothes line were dangling in the water so Steve flipped them over the line. We didn't dare open the door to the shower and toilet knowing full well that it would look no better than anywhere else downstairs. After looking around, all we could do was shut the door and wait. I waded carefully out onto the reserve near the edge of the carport to look and take some photos. It was eerily quiet and still and the water reflected the houses which it surrounded.Some time later, Steve waded down the street with the dog to go to work while the girls and I stayed stranded. The spectacle was beginning as people from other areas of town were coming down to look. Several people drove their cars down the street, realised that the road was blocked and u-turned to go back. We only realised after the flooding subsided that our area was cut off from most of the town. An aluminium tinny arrived to ferry people to their houses and out again as there was no possibility of walking. Some friends called from the far bank to see if we were alright and to let them know if we needed anything. Calls from other people during the morning made it clear that we weren't the only ones flooded in although we tended to have 'wetter feet' than anyone else.
Throughout the day, I watched with interest as locals, young and old, amused us from our vantage point. On several occasions, young guys either waded or more often swam from one end of the street to the other. One lad decided to do a few laps in our reserve while his mates watched from the safety of dry land. Although the likelihood of crocodiles was slim, it still wasn't smart to tempt fate and serve yourself up as a tasty morsel should one be around. Several 4-wds chugged through bonnet deep water and one gentleman in particular, an elderly man, glided along Hawkins street like he'd been doing it all his life. Of course many attempted the crossing but either 'chickened out' or failed miserably and bobbed. A woman waded through the water with arms upstretched to reach her mothers' place across the road from us. A group of three adventure seekers floated down the fast flowing torrent in an inner tube which got caught in a tree. All three took some effort to free themselves and continued on their merry way.I photographed a cane toad doing breast stroke past our front porch and at one stage an unknown slithery creature was trying desperately to get above the tide line and out of the water. I don't think it was a baby snake but more likely a leech. Anyway I wasn't going to get any closer to find out. Bubbles were constantly rising up in the floodwaters like some phantom scuba diver was swimming around in the murkiness. It was the air pockets in the ground slowly being replaced by water and releasing bubbles. One thing that was noticeable was the almost eery silence of any birds during the flood. The usual calls which could be heard throughout the day were absent until the water has subsided.
All the sinks in the house were unusable because the floodwater had filled the drains and so no water was able to get away from the house. I had dishes on the sink a mile high. Erin and I were also quite mindful of toilet flushing and whether that was going to be as problematic as the sinks. We had been delaying using the toilet as long as possible when all of a sudden we heard flushing. Becca had decided to take herself to the toilet without letting anyone know and, of course, flushed. Erin and I ran screaming into the toilet to stop her. Becca looked at us like 'what was all the fuss about' as we all stood gazing into the bowl waiting for it to rise up and overflow. Nothing happened! To sighs of relief, we walked away knowing that we may have a couple of flushes up our sleeves for the day but we still needed to be careful. I could only imagine the issue if this flood was to last a week as it did in 2009. 
At midday, the floodwaters had peaked and then started to recede. By dinner that night I was able to use the sinks again and there was more likelihood of us being able to have a shower. Grass was now visible in the muddy water and the house steps were exposed again. When we woke up the next morning, it was as if nothing had happened. The only indicator of a flood was the mud covered grass and the silty slurry on the concrete paths and floors under the house. Hawkins street was clear and cars were driving past again as they had been two days before. For several days the grass squelched under our feet when we walked on it and we didn't put any vehicles under the carport because the ground was so boggy. Not a good look to have to use 4-wd to get out of your driveway in town. It was Sunday before we returned our caravan back under the monolith. This flood had been unexpectedly silent in that it crept up on us and although we knew it was coming, had no idea how all comsuming it would be........and it wasn't even serious in the eyes of the locals. We just didn't expect to get up in the morning and see the extent to which the water had risen and how much of our area was swamped. It certainly opened our eyes.Thursday, 21 February 2013
And Then it Rained in Big Fat Drops
In the famous words of the McCain corn commercial, "the rains are here Marg". Of course it took a tropical cyclone to hurry it along a bit but eventually some semblance of a monsoon descended on Ingham for the 2012-2013 wet season. It started raining on Monday night after a threatening looking afternoon of storm clouds and wind. By 2am it was pouring and continued with intensity until Wednesday night when the rain became less continuous. We had taken Steve's mum to Townsville on the Tuesday to catch her flight home and it was lucky that she had chosen to fly on that day otherwise Wednesday might have been a bit difficult for us to get her home. Although Townsville was dry, Ingham had already received a deluge, such was the nature of the weather system which was travelling down the coast. By the Wednesday however, Townsville was drowning as well. It didn't take long for the dry soil to soak up the water and for the creeks to start rising. Suddenly the animals couldn't even go outside for a pee break because there was no break in the rain.
Only days earlier, we had taken Steve's mum down to a causeway called the 'Guirlock' which crosses the Herbert River north of Ingham. This low concrete road bridge dips down into the river channel which on the Monday afternoon was a mere trickle with exposed sandbanks. We even walked down to the water's edge. On either side, the road rose quite steeply and there were water level indicators starting at 4.5 metres to well beyond 11 metres at the top. This crossing also has an automatic station which measures the river level as it rises and sends the information back to the Bureau of Meteorology in Brisbane. A little metal box with an antenna on top sits on the hill way out of any floodwaters so far measured in history.
As the rain continued, regular checking of the BOM website (Bureau of Meteorology) showed many of these automated flood monitoring stations all over the Herbert catchment and all other catchment areas in Queensland. On Wednesday evening, we all jumped in the 4-wd and wandered around to different areas outside of Ingham just to see what all this water was doing to the region. The Bruce Highway was still open at this stage allowing us to go out of town and have a look around but we didn't go far.
To the north of Ingham, we drove down to the Guirlock causeway to get a comparison of river levels from the previous visit and we couldn't even get near the crossing. Road closed signs and barriers had already been placed across the road and Steve wandered past those and down to the water while we waited in the car. We then drove along the Bruce Highway and over the Herbert River itself which was a fast flowing torrent and rising quickly. Local canefields had become huge lakes and the local fruit stall on the highway was an island which nobody could reach.
In the other direction towards Trebonne and Abergowrie to the west, it was a similar story although many canefields had overflowed onto the road making driving hazardous. Grey skies and heavy rain made it difficult to see water over the road so an oncoming vehicle with a bow-wave at the front was a pretty good indicator of water on the road. We went as far as we could go before being cut off by the Herbert River which, this time, was flowing over the road bridge with large tree debris building up along the railings. It was a pretty awesome sight. Whole trees and large branches were hitting the bridge railings and then being dragged under by the force of the water before resurfacing on the other side of the bridge and continuing on down the river.
The rain continued as we drove back to town and of course it was an opportune time for Becca to need a wee stop. One can hardly refuse an urgent request for a pee when we are trying to toilet train her. The next task was finding somewhere to pull up that wasn't flooded or at risk of floating away. There was no point worrying about getting wet because there was no way that was going to be avoided. We eventually found a postage stamp size piece of gravel in someone's driveway to pull up. Thankfully Becca is not opposed to squatting anywhere she can but admittedly it was one of the fastest pee stops in history. Within seconds she and Steve were back in the car looking bedraggled but otherwise relieved.
Once we reached the outskirts of town, the local creek had flooded the road (the same creek that runs past the back of our place). We had been through the same spot only half an hour previously but in that short time, the water was already much higher than when we had left.
When we got home, the creek had started to flow onto the neighbouring reserve turning it into a small lake. Usually heavy rain creates small lakes on the reserve but these aren't connected to the creek. Conflicting advice about what river levels to watch and at what point to be alarmed made our evening a little uneasy. Once we put the girls to bed, Steve and I decided to walk down the street to look at the creek levels at the road bridge. A large lake had already filled the middle of Hawkins Street at it's lowest point but our greatest concern was the absence of vehicles in the street as we walked. Nobody had their cars in driveways or carports. Every car was gone. That was enough to get us into gear and shift our vehicles as well. Firstly we shifted the Subaru out of the carport under the house and put it up on the main street of Ingham which doesn't flood. Steve had to drive it through the lake which had established itself in the centre of our street. Next we hooked the caravan up to the Landcruiser and towed it to Steve's workplace on the outskirts of Ingham which also doesn't flood. Again, Steve towed it through the Hawkins street lake. Thank god the caravan was a 4-wd version otherwise it would have gotten the floor wet.
While Steve was gone, I made sure everything was off the floor in the downstairs part of the house. Unfortunately my washing machine was too heavy to lift but the rest of our stuff was on tables and so presumably safe. The reserve had continued to fill and was now a large lake with an ever moving tide line creeping up the hill next to the house. When Steve returned with the Landcruiser, he parked it on the high side of the block on the other side of the house. By the time we went to bed, Steve and I felt uneasy but satisfied that we had done everything we could to make all our possessions safe. In all honesty, we didn't really think the water would come up more than a few centimetres to perhaps cover the concrete paths. We awaited the outcome of the next morning.
Only days earlier, we had taken Steve's mum down to a causeway called the 'Guirlock' which crosses the Herbert River north of Ingham. This low concrete road bridge dips down into the river channel which on the Monday afternoon was a mere trickle with exposed sandbanks. We even walked down to the water's edge. On either side, the road rose quite steeply and there were water level indicators starting at 4.5 metres to well beyond 11 metres at the top. This crossing also has an automatic station which measures the river level as it rises and sends the information back to the Bureau of Meteorology in Brisbane. A little metal box with an antenna on top sits on the hill way out of any floodwaters so far measured in history.As the rain continued, regular checking of the BOM website (Bureau of Meteorology) showed many of these automated flood monitoring stations all over the Herbert catchment and all other catchment areas in Queensland. On Wednesday evening, we all jumped in the 4-wd and wandered around to different areas outside of Ingham just to see what all this water was doing to the region. The Bruce Highway was still open at this stage allowing us to go out of town and have a look around but we didn't go far.
To the north of Ingham, we drove down to the Guirlock causeway to get a comparison of river levels from the previous visit and we couldn't even get near the crossing. Road closed signs and barriers had already been placed across the road and Steve wandered past those and down to the water while we waited in the car. We then drove along the Bruce Highway and over the Herbert River itself which was a fast flowing torrent and rising quickly. Local canefields had become huge lakes and the local fruit stall on the highway was an island which nobody could reach.
In the other direction towards Trebonne and Abergowrie to the west, it was a similar story although many canefields had overflowed onto the road making driving hazardous. Grey skies and heavy rain made it difficult to see water over the road so an oncoming vehicle with a bow-wave at the front was a pretty good indicator of water on the road. We went as far as we could go before being cut off by the Herbert River which, this time, was flowing over the road bridge with large tree debris building up along the railings. It was a pretty awesome sight. Whole trees and large branches were hitting the bridge railings and then being dragged under by the force of the water before resurfacing on the other side of the bridge and continuing on down the river.
The rain continued as we drove back to town and of course it was an opportune time for Becca to need a wee stop. One can hardly refuse an urgent request for a pee when we are trying to toilet train her. The next task was finding somewhere to pull up that wasn't flooded or at risk of floating away. There was no point worrying about getting wet because there was no way that was going to be avoided. We eventually found a postage stamp size piece of gravel in someone's driveway to pull up. Thankfully Becca is not opposed to squatting anywhere she can but admittedly it was one of the fastest pee stops in history. Within seconds she and Steve were back in the car looking bedraggled but otherwise relieved.Once we reached the outskirts of town, the local creek had flooded the road (the same creek that runs past the back of our place). We had been through the same spot only half an hour previously but in that short time, the water was already much higher than when we had left.
When we got home, the creek had started to flow onto the neighbouring reserve turning it into a small lake. Usually heavy rain creates small lakes on the reserve but these aren't connected to the creek. Conflicting advice about what river levels to watch and at what point to be alarmed made our evening a little uneasy. Once we put the girls to bed, Steve and I decided to walk down the street to look at the creek levels at the road bridge. A large lake had already filled the middle of Hawkins Street at it's lowest point but our greatest concern was the absence of vehicles in the street as we walked. Nobody had their cars in driveways or carports. Every car was gone. That was enough to get us into gear and shift our vehicles as well. Firstly we shifted the Subaru out of the carport under the house and put it up on the main street of Ingham which doesn't flood. Steve had to drive it through the lake which had established itself in the centre of our street. Next we hooked the caravan up to the Landcruiser and towed it to Steve's workplace on the outskirts of Ingham which also doesn't flood. Again, Steve towed it through the Hawkins street lake. Thank god the caravan was a 4-wd version otherwise it would have gotten the floor wet.
While Steve was gone, I made sure everything was off the floor in the downstairs part of the house. Unfortunately my washing machine was too heavy to lift but the rest of our stuff was on tables and so presumably safe. The reserve had continued to fill and was now a large lake with an ever moving tide line creeping up the hill next to the house. When Steve returned with the Landcruiser, he parked it on the high side of the block on the other side of the house. By the time we went to bed, Steve and I felt uneasy but satisfied that we had done everything we could to make all our possessions safe. In all honesty, we didn't really think the water would come up more than a few centimetres to perhaps cover the concrete paths. We awaited the outcome of the next morning.
Monday, 14 January 2013
Round plug in a Square Hole
Since Brindle's little accident, which happened on a Sunday 4 weeks ago now, we have been more careful with her whereabouts while at home. In general, she has learnt a valuable lesson and we have learned a costly lesson as well. She doesn't wander out the front at all and when she follows Steve, she rarely ventures past the carport and into the front yard. Now she is older, we can tie her up and she doesn't get tangled around the outdoor setting or the staircase. Every evening of late, we need to tie her up because a man walks his dachshund through the reserve next to our house and she rushes over to greet them which isn't good despite her only being curious.
When she wakes up early, she is ready for the day simply because Steve has been taking her to his early morning jobs from the time he brought her home. However, during the Christmas break, neither Steve, myself or the girls, were interested in joining her for the early morning starts. Steve prefers to walk her after dark after the girls have gone to bed. She has been sleeping upstairs since the accident with Steve getting up at least once a night to give her a pee break but at 5am when she stirs, he has been putting her downstairs in the underground. The underground is the downstairs part of the house which can be locked but which we only use for storage. There is plenty of room for Brindle to wander around and its airy with loovers and open brickwork to let the breezes through. Steve made Brindle a collapsible kennel for her stay with friends while we were in Cairns and she is quite happy to use it when down there. Usually when I get up, I go downstairs and let her out and allow her upstairs after frenzied excitement, licks and whimpering.
Last Sunday (I don't know what it is about Sundays), I did my usual thing and went downstairs to let Brindle out but was not greeted at the door. My initial reaction was that she was still in her upstairs bed and I just didn't notice her. I wandered inside to have a look around just to be sure. As I walked into the washing line area under the house, I could hear whining and there was Brindle with her head stuck through a besser brick. When she heard me, she started struggling and trying to get out. I tried to unstick her but she was jammed in that besser block. I raced upstairs to get Steve who was not comprehending what I was telling him as I woke him from his sleep.
We all went downstairs and Steve assessed the situation while chastising his stupid dog for doing such a nutty thing. There must have been something pretty interesting out the front for her to need to put her head through the brickwork. I was just grateful that she didn't do this on a day that we had gone to Townsville. We lock her in the underground because it's too hot to take her in the car with us to Townsville although we did it when she was a tiny puppy and too small to be left home alone. Thankfully it wasn't that hot when she was tiny.
Our first reaction was to soap up her head and try to slide her out of the diamond shaped hole. She had been standing on Steve's whipper snipper (obviously to get a better look at whatever had attracted her attention) so I was supporting her body while Steve tried to turn her head on its side and free her. No good. Steve and I swapped places which I wasn't entirely happy about because I was still in my nightie. There I was out the front of the house squatting down trying to thread a dog's head through a brick. More neighbourhood amusement.
I could see from where I was that this wasn't going to be possible. Her jaw was wider than the brick hole and her wrinkly, pig dog brow was also stopping us from pushing her back through the brickwork. She must have seriously squeezed her face or narrowed it quite a lot to get her head through in the first place. Our only remaining alternative was to chisel away at the brick to make the hole bigger and so enable Brindle to get her own head out. Imagine Brindle's reaction when Steve came at her with a chisel and hammer in his hand and started banging away at the brickwork. I was trying to calm her and protect her eyes while brick dust and debris was flying everywhere. Even after knocking out a portion of the besser block, we had to be careful and get rid of sharp edges before guiding Brindle's head back through the brick. Eventually she was free and shook herself silly before proceeding with her morning meet and greet which she had missed out on because of her predicament.
Now that particular area of the underground is off limits when we go to Townsville because we don't need a repeat performance where she gets stuck. Hopefully she has learnt her lesson otherwise the front of the house will look like it's got mortar damage with all the holes chipped out of the brickwork. Of course locking Brindle into the other section of the underground has resulted in our Christmas wrapping paper being strewn all over the place on one occasion (it was sitting down there waiting for recycling day because the bin had been too full after Christmas). Yesterday when we got back from Townsville with Steve's mum, she had removed the pink rubber handles from Erin's scooter and proceeded to tear them into irretrievable pieces. There isn't enough to amuse her while locked up and is highly likely the reason for her sticking her head through the brick in the first place. Hopefully soon her head will get too big to fit through the bricks but until then we will endeavour to take her with us when we can and when Steve returns to work, she may have her curiosity satisfied with new adventures. Oh the joys of owning a dog and a kelpie at that!
When she wakes up early, she is ready for the day simply because Steve has been taking her to his early morning jobs from the time he brought her home. However, during the Christmas break, neither Steve, myself or the girls, were interested in joining her for the early morning starts. Steve prefers to walk her after dark after the girls have gone to bed. She has been sleeping upstairs since the accident with Steve getting up at least once a night to give her a pee break but at 5am when she stirs, he has been putting her downstairs in the underground. The underground is the downstairs part of the house which can be locked but which we only use for storage. There is plenty of room for Brindle to wander around and its airy with loovers and open brickwork to let the breezes through. Steve made Brindle a collapsible kennel for her stay with friends while we were in Cairns and she is quite happy to use it when down there. Usually when I get up, I go downstairs and let her out and allow her upstairs after frenzied excitement, licks and whimpering.
Last Sunday (I don't know what it is about Sundays), I did my usual thing and went downstairs to let Brindle out but was not greeted at the door. My initial reaction was that she was still in her upstairs bed and I just didn't notice her. I wandered inside to have a look around just to be sure. As I walked into the washing line area under the house, I could hear whining and there was Brindle with her head stuck through a besser brick. When she heard me, she started struggling and trying to get out. I tried to unstick her but she was jammed in that besser block. I raced upstairs to get Steve who was not comprehending what I was telling him as I woke him from his sleep.
We all went downstairs and Steve assessed the situation while chastising his stupid dog for doing such a nutty thing. There must have been something pretty interesting out the front for her to need to put her head through the brickwork. I was just grateful that she didn't do this on a day that we had gone to Townsville. We lock her in the underground because it's too hot to take her in the car with us to Townsville although we did it when she was a tiny puppy and too small to be left home alone. Thankfully it wasn't that hot when she was tiny.
Our first reaction was to soap up her head and try to slide her out of the diamond shaped hole. She had been standing on Steve's whipper snipper (obviously to get a better look at whatever had attracted her attention) so I was supporting her body while Steve tried to turn her head on its side and free her. No good. Steve and I swapped places which I wasn't entirely happy about because I was still in my nightie. There I was out the front of the house squatting down trying to thread a dog's head through a brick. More neighbourhood amusement.
I could see from where I was that this wasn't going to be possible. Her jaw was wider than the brick hole and her wrinkly, pig dog brow was also stopping us from pushing her back through the brickwork. She must have seriously squeezed her face or narrowed it quite a lot to get her head through in the first place. Our only remaining alternative was to chisel away at the brick to make the hole bigger and so enable Brindle to get her own head out. Imagine Brindle's reaction when Steve came at her with a chisel and hammer in his hand and started banging away at the brickwork. I was trying to calm her and protect her eyes while brick dust and debris was flying everywhere. Even after knocking out a portion of the besser block, we had to be careful and get rid of sharp edges before guiding Brindle's head back through the brick. Eventually she was free and shook herself silly before proceeding with her morning meet and greet which she had missed out on because of her predicament.
Now that particular area of the underground is off limits when we go to Townsville because we don't need a repeat performance where she gets stuck. Hopefully she has learnt her lesson otherwise the front of the house will look like it's got mortar damage with all the holes chipped out of the brickwork. Of course locking Brindle into the other section of the underground has resulted in our Christmas wrapping paper being strewn all over the place on one occasion (it was sitting down there waiting for recycling day because the bin had been too full after Christmas). Yesterday when we got back from Townsville with Steve's mum, she had removed the pink rubber handles from Erin's scooter and proceeded to tear them into irretrievable pieces. There isn't enough to amuse her while locked up and is highly likely the reason for her sticking her head through the brick in the first place. Hopefully soon her head will get too big to fit through the bricks but until then we will endeavour to take her with us when we can and when Steve returns to work, she may have her curiosity satisfied with new adventures. Oh the joys of owning a dog and a kelpie at that!
Sunday, 23 December 2012
Monster Bug Wars
Erin and Becca are enjoying a show on SBS at the moment called Monster Bug Wars where a whole range of Australian critters go head to head in the day to day battles which go on in our own backyards. The two of them are glued to the tv on Wednesday nights and Steve and I usually watch too but we get more of a giggle out of it as well as any serious information. The sound effects as a centipede and a scorpion confront each other are more in tune with a tyrannosaurus rex and a triceratops battling it out. These completely out of place roars and growls just make us laugh but the girls are still mesmerised. There is a commentary by an over-enthusiastic American woman and an equally excited Aussie guy scientist which also adds to the drama and the humour of the show.
I must say though that as the weather gets more humid here, so too do our own monster bug wars. As I sit here typing away, I am being watched by yet another cockroach who, fortunately for him, is too high up the wall for me to reach.......he'll keep! Some nights I feel like the Valiant Little Tailor in the Grimm's fairytale who 'fells seven in one blow' (flies that is). My best tally so far is 6 cockroaches in the bathroom within about 10 minutes. Some nights are worse than others but when you enter a room which has been vacant for a short time, the cockroaches scatter like teenagers that have just been caught smoking pot behind the sports shed at school. If I can get my weapon of choice in hand quickly...they die, but usually it takes two or three......or four blows. My weapon of choice.....a slipper, which seems to have great flexibility and a fantastic 'thwacking' sound as I use it. There is no limit to where a roach will immerge from especially as we have so many gaps around the house that they appear anywhere. I don't want to creep anyone out but I've seen them scurry off Erin's quilt when I've gone to check the girls at bedtime and Steve had one land on him in bed the other night. They have a particular fondness for the cats bowls where they snack on the cat biscuits. Anyway once the deed is done....they get swept up with the hand broom and chucked out the door. I am seriously considering baits or surface sprays because they are getting bad.
Of course we have introduced another pest into the house quite unexpectedly. The crickets we buy for Matilda the lizard escape sometimes and turn up in the most annoying places. Steve and I had a cricket is our bedroom chirping for two nights straight until Steve flew out of bed on the third night, hunted the poor thing down and disposed of it. No more bush ambience.
There are ants that are almost microscopic which trail around the house too. Whenever I make lunch and leave the cutting board out, these tiny little invaders swarm onto anything that looks tasty. I have even found them crowding onto a spot where a morsel had been mopped up earlier. They don't bite and don't pose any real problem but it's just another bug I've had to get used to on a daily basis.
The cane toads are still taking up residence downstairs and do the same thing as the cockroaches whenever one goes downstairs and turns the lights on after dark. They poo all over the place and it's quite stinky unless the downstairs gets hosed out regularly. We have started seeing them during the day especially around the pool where they hide in any damp spot they can get. We did have a problem with Brindle taking a fancy to them when we first brought her home. Steve fixed that by whacking her over the head with one a couple of times. Unfortunately some of the poison went into Brindle's eyes and she got quite distressed and pawed at her eyes. Steve then spent 10 minutes with her in the shower to try and wash it out while I furiously googled cane toad poison to see if she would be ok. The upshot of the whole episode is that Brindle never touched a cane toad again.
One of the slightly more accepted relatives of the toad, a green tree frog, resides on our back staircase but has no better manners when it comes to toilet training. Most mornings we find frog poo on the steps which dries up and gets kicked off over the day. We usually have to step over him when we go outside after dark but then the back porch light provides ample insects for his dinner. There are also tiny ones quite often sitting on the kitchen window or the living room window.
Perhaps less 'bug-like' but still prolific around the house are geckoes. Our bathroom window is territory to at least three of them. Every night when we have the bathroom light on, the moths that are attracted to the light make a tasty meal for the trio. One usually takes bets on whether the gecko will get the moth or not. Of course the territorial boundaries seem to change on a regular basis. One particular gecko whom we've named 'stumpy' for obvious reasons was head honcho on the bathroom window for weeks. I witnessed him biting another gecko's head over his space on the window. However, he's been missing for weeks so I assume he's been turfed off the window (a long drop from the upstairs level). Oh the days of our lives!
They aren't restricted to outside the bathroom window, they are everywhere inside the house too. These geckoes bark and we quite often see them scurrying up the walls in the lounge. While laying in bed, we hear them barking and know that there is one in the room with us somewhere. Over the last few days, we have started seeing tiny ones about 2cm long so the humidity must be ideal for creating baby geckoes.
One night I spotted a giant grasshopper or cicada bug on the back screen door. It was unassuming and just sat there while we went in and out the door. Several nights later, I heard a sound like a dentist's drill and it turned out to be this unassuming bug sitting on the kitchen window. I couldn't believe that such a noise could come from a bug.
Now probably the least invasive of the bugs we encounter but still nonetheless dangerous is the tick. We have only had experiences with bush ticks so far which are an annoyance but still creep you out a bit when you find one on you. I have found ticks on both Erin and Becca and usually in their hair. I have found one in my hair too and one would never know they were there. It's just fortunate that running hands through hair tends to pick them up. Once removed, the area stings a bit and then aches for a few hours. We have also found a couple on the cats, usually around the neck under their collars where they can't groom and reach them. We discovered one on Pirie recently with it's head buried in her skin but it was dead. Hardly surprising because Pirie has a hide like an elephant and it probably buried itself in and found the blood reservoir out of reach. We haven't come across any paralysis ticks yet and hope we don't because if you don't find them early enough, they will kill your pet. A friend told me of someone who took their dog to the vet after it was acting strangely and the vet pulled three paralysis ticks off the dog. Lucky for the dog. I think we will have to be more vigilant once the rain starts in ernest because moisture seems to be a paralysis ticks best environment.
Well the monster bug wars are a fact of life up here and people keep saying "wait until it rains". I have a fair tolerance to all the creepy crawlies and most of them are not too intrusive. In fact some of them are very interesting and very different to anything I've seen in Adelaide.
UPDATE : I bought some cockroach surface spray and within one night we had collected 13 dead cockroaches and we continue to find them break dancing on the floor in their last throws of life. We are careful to only spray at ground level so as not to interfere with the geckoes too much. So far so good for all concerned, both lizards and people alike.
I must say though that as the weather gets more humid here, so too do our own monster bug wars. As I sit here typing away, I am being watched by yet another cockroach who, fortunately for him, is too high up the wall for me to reach.......he'll keep! Some nights I feel like the Valiant Little Tailor in the Grimm's fairytale who 'fells seven in one blow' (flies that is). My best tally so far is 6 cockroaches in the bathroom within about 10 minutes. Some nights are worse than others but when you enter a room which has been vacant for a short time, the cockroaches scatter like teenagers that have just been caught smoking pot behind the sports shed at school. If I can get my weapon of choice in hand quickly...they die, but usually it takes two or three......or four blows. My weapon of choice.....a slipper, which seems to have great flexibility and a fantastic 'thwacking' sound as I use it. There is no limit to where a roach will immerge from especially as we have so many gaps around the house that they appear anywhere. I don't want to creep anyone out but I've seen them scurry off Erin's quilt when I've gone to check the girls at bedtime and Steve had one land on him in bed the other night. They have a particular fondness for the cats bowls where they snack on the cat biscuits. Anyway once the deed is done....they get swept up with the hand broom and chucked out the door. I am seriously considering baits or surface sprays because they are getting bad.
Of course we have introduced another pest into the house quite unexpectedly. The crickets we buy for Matilda the lizard escape sometimes and turn up in the most annoying places. Steve and I had a cricket is our bedroom chirping for two nights straight until Steve flew out of bed on the third night, hunted the poor thing down and disposed of it. No more bush ambience.
There are ants that are almost microscopic which trail around the house too. Whenever I make lunch and leave the cutting board out, these tiny little invaders swarm onto anything that looks tasty. I have even found them crowding onto a spot where a morsel had been mopped up earlier. They don't bite and don't pose any real problem but it's just another bug I've had to get used to on a daily basis.
The cane toads are still taking up residence downstairs and do the same thing as the cockroaches whenever one goes downstairs and turns the lights on after dark. They poo all over the place and it's quite stinky unless the downstairs gets hosed out regularly. We have started seeing them during the day especially around the pool where they hide in any damp spot they can get. We did have a problem with Brindle taking a fancy to them when we first brought her home. Steve fixed that by whacking her over the head with one a couple of times. Unfortunately some of the poison went into Brindle's eyes and she got quite distressed and pawed at her eyes. Steve then spent 10 minutes with her in the shower to try and wash it out while I furiously googled cane toad poison to see if she would be ok. The upshot of the whole episode is that Brindle never touched a cane toad again.
One of the slightly more accepted relatives of the toad, a green tree frog, resides on our back staircase but has no better manners when it comes to toilet training. Most mornings we find frog poo on the steps which dries up and gets kicked off over the day. We usually have to step over him when we go outside after dark but then the back porch light provides ample insects for his dinner. There are also tiny ones quite often sitting on the kitchen window or the living room window.
Perhaps less 'bug-like' but still prolific around the house are geckoes. Our bathroom window is territory to at least three of them. Every night when we have the bathroom light on, the moths that are attracted to the light make a tasty meal for the trio. One usually takes bets on whether the gecko will get the moth or not. Of course the territorial boundaries seem to change on a regular basis. One particular gecko whom we've named 'stumpy' for obvious reasons was head honcho on the bathroom window for weeks. I witnessed him biting another gecko's head over his space on the window. However, he's been missing for weeks so I assume he's been turfed off the window (a long drop from the upstairs level). Oh the days of our lives!They aren't restricted to outside the bathroom window, they are everywhere inside the house too. These geckoes bark and we quite often see them scurrying up the walls in the lounge. While laying in bed, we hear them barking and know that there is one in the room with us somewhere. Over the last few days, we have started seeing tiny ones about 2cm long so the humidity must be ideal for creating baby geckoes.
One night I spotted a giant grasshopper or cicada bug on the back screen door. It was unassuming and just sat there while we went in and out the door. Several nights later, I heard a sound like a dentist's drill and it turned out to be this unassuming bug sitting on the kitchen window. I couldn't believe that such a noise could come from a bug.
Now probably the least invasive of the bugs we encounter but still nonetheless dangerous is the tick. We have only had experiences with bush ticks so far which are an annoyance but still creep you out a bit when you find one on you. I have found ticks on both Erin and Becca and usually in their hair. I have found one in my hair too and one would never know they were there. It's just fortunate that running hands through hair tends to pick them up. Once removed, the area stings a bit and then aches for a few hours. We have also found a couple on the cats, usually around the neck under their collars where they can't groom and reach them. We discovered one on Pirie recently with it's head buried in her skin but it was dead. Hardly surprising because Pirie has a hide like an elephant and it probably buried itself in and found the blood reservoir out of reach. We haven't come across any paralysis ticks yet and hope we don't because if you don't find them early enough, they will kill your pet. A friend told me of someone who took their dog to the vet after it was acting strangely and the vet pulled three paralysis ticks off the dog. Lucky for the dog. I think we will have to be more vigilant once the rain starts in ernest because moisture seems to be a paralysis ticks best environment.Well the monster bug wars are a fact of life up here and people keep saying "wait until it rains". I have a fair tolerance to all the creepy crawlies and most of them are not too intrusive. In fact some of them are very interesting and very different to anything I've seen in Adelaide.
UPDATE : I bought some cockroach surface spray and within one night we had collected 13 dead cockroaches and we continue to find them break dancing on the floor in their last throws of life. We are careful to only spray at ground level so as not to interfere with the geckoes too much. So far so good for all concerned, both lizards and people alike.
Saturday, 1 December 2012
Tis' the Season
There have been advertisements on tv and radio about the start of cyclone season and the need to prepare for such events. Townsville had an open day where people could meet government and community organisations to ask questions and prepare for cyclone season. I downloaded a 6 page government brochure the other day about 'getting ready' for flood, cyclone or severe storms. It gives one tips on making an emergency plan and an emergency kit for use in the event of power loss or flood inundation due to severe storms. Ingham floods regularly but the severity varies from 1 day to 6 or more days of isolation. After Yasi people didn't get power for between 10 days and three weeks. From my reading, I've determined that you have to be prepared as if it's a big camping trip in the bush. No power, limited or no phone service (depending on infrastructure damage), no running water, sewage issues etc etc. One has to be totally self sufficient. We are luckier than most because we have the van which is designed to be self sufficient so if need be, we can run our generator and still have power, refrigeration and running water.
I have been lucky to receive lots of advice from people who've lived through north Queensland weather for either their entire lives or several years. I was getting a haircut the other day and telling my hairdresser and another client how I was looking forward to seeing some storms up here. They were both full of advice about what to do during a thunderstorm especially if it's right overhead. Pull out tv aerials and computer modems, pull out fridge plugs and tv plugs, don't turn on taps or wash dishes or talk on the phone. It sounds extreme but then thunderstorms up here must be a whole other animal when compared to down south.
Emergency kits, apart from the obvious medical and food essentials, need to have important documents in waterproof bags, cash, spare batteries for torches or mobile phones and a handheld battery operated radio. I haven't seen one of those since my dad used to listen to the races with one. Wow...can you even still buy them. I've actually got dad's tranny radio but it's packed in a box in Adelaide and no good to me there. Non perishable tinned food is still advised to include a can opener. I think most tin cans come with ring pulls these days although a large tin of beetroot still requires manual opening. I'm sure we could survive for a few days without beetroot......well maybe not Becca, it's her favourite salad accompaniment and she eats plate loads of it.
An emergency plan entails what we need to do as a family in the event of evacuation during severe weather events. I didn't realise how easily we girls and Steve could be separated especially if he's not in Ingham and the town gets cut off. How would we shift the van without the Landcruiser, where would the girls and I evacuate to as we have no family up here, would we stay in the house during a cyclone (not that I think there will be another repeat of Yasi in our time here). The government website that I was on had a recording of the emergency warning siren which precedes any tv or radio advice or warnings. Erin's school recently sent home a notice for parents to update regarding their childs' mode of transport to and from school so that the school knows whether to put kids on a bus or ring parents to pick up in the event of some imminent disaster.
At the moment, these things don't seem important and they may not even be necessary this year, but one never knows and being new to this region, I'm taking it seriously. Most of the locals are so used to what happens that it is instinct for them but not for us We've just last weekend lifted all our possessions off the ground floor of the house to prevent water damage if flooding occurs and also to keep the cane toad hiding places to a minimum. It's just better to be prepared and not need it than to not be prepared and have only a day to organise everything when shops are selling out of supplies. A friend told me that when Yasi was on its way, they got the last generator in town so how would you feel if you missed out on something which was the difference between some comfort and discomfort. Anyway the brochure has been very handy in giving advice and contact details for the cyclone/storm season when it eventually arrives.
I have been lucky to receive lots of advice from people who've lived through north Queensland weather for either their entire lives or several years. I was getting a haircut the other day and telling my hairdresser and another client how I was looking forward to seeing some storms up here. They were both full of advice about what to do during a thunderstorm especially if it's right overhead. Pull out tv aerials and computer modems, pull out fridge plugs and tv plugs, don't turn on taps or wash dishes or talk on the phone. It sounds extreme but then thunderstorms up here must be a whole other animal when compared to down south.
Emergency kits, apart from the obvious medical and food essentials, need to have important documents in waterproof bags, cash, spare batteries for torches or mobile phones and a handheld battery operated radio. I haven't seen one of those since my dad used to listen to the races with one. Wow...can you even still buy them. I've actually got dad's tranny radio but it's packed in a box in Adelaide and no good to me there. Non perishable tinned food is still advised to include a can opener. I think most tin cans come with ring pulls these days although a large tin of beetroot still requires manual opening. I'm sure we could survive for a few days without beetroot......well maybe not Becca, it's her favourite salad accompaniment and she eats plate loads of it.
An emergency plan entails what we need to do as a family in the event of evacuation during severe weather events. I didn't realise how easily we girls and Steve could be separated especially if he's not in Ingham and the town gets cut off. How would we shift the van without the Landcruiser, where would the girls and I evacuate to as we have no family up here, would we stay in the house during a cyclone (not that I think there will be another repeat of Yasi in our time here). The government website that I was on had a recording of the emergency warning siren which precedes any tv or radio advice or warnings. Erin's school recently sent home a notice for parents to update regarding their childs' mode of transport to and from school so that the school knows whether to put kids on a bus or ring parents to pick up in the event of some imminent disaster.
At the moment, these things don't seem important and they may not even be necessary this year, but one never knows and being new to this region, I'm taking it seriously. Most of the locals are so used to what happens that it is instinct for them but not for us We've just last weekend lifted all our possessions off the ground floor of the house to prevent water damage if flooding occurs and also to keep the cane toad hiding places to a minimum. It's just better to be prepared and not need it than to not be prepared and have only a day to organise everything when shops are selling out of supplies. A friend told me that when Yasi was on its way, they got the last generator in town so how would you feel if you missed out on something which was the difference between some comfort and discomfort. Anyway the brochure has been very handy in giving advice and contact details for the cyclone/storm season when it eventually arrives.
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