About noon today I had just finished servicing Blackbean Cottage, the last thing being to mop my way out leaving via the veranda doors. I walked round the cottage to pick up linen basket and my thongs but was stopped in my tracks by a cassowary standing about 3m from the entrance door. Fortunately, he had his back to me so I didn’t spook him. I will continue use ‘he’, ‘him’, though I don’t know the gender as they do look alike with the females larger. ‘He’ wasn’t the largest I’ve seen though with all the mature features, so ‘he’ is my best bet. I feel too fond of them to use ‘it’.
I haven’t seen a cassowary at Possum Valley for about 5 years, but I knew there was one around as guests had been seeing one along the track in. Both when arriving by car and walking. Up here on the tablelands, they haven’t been habituated to tourist food handouts, and take off with great alacrity on nearly all occasions. I have been bailed up for 20 mins in the rainforest here when a cassowary was making threatening booming noises and circling me (safely holed-up in the cab of my 4WD), but I didn’t get to see him/her much being mostly hidden in the jungle.
When he wandered towards the creek, I went back into the cottage which made a perfect hide. I was correct in thinking his pea sized brain could not identify anything not fully outlined and not moving. So I got the best look at a cassowary I have ever had from 2 or 3 meters sometimes, and had time to look at the details of the massive feet, the mauve dangling wattles, the peacock blue head, the bright orange knobbly skin on the back of the neck to vividly rival any human hi-vis outfit, and some long dangling feathers that seemed totally non-functional. This animal was designed by a committee of acid-heads. Sorry Mr Darwin, here we have solid evidence of non-intelligent design. OK, the basic chassis may be functional, but the adornments I couldn’t have dreamed of, let alone applied to an animal. Anyway I don’t dream in colour. I have heard some people do, but I will never know what that is like.
Stock photo as nobody has managed to get a shot at PV
After about 20 mins of very slowly ambling about the cottage, occasionally preening, and generally looking relaxed, ho hum another day another skink or two, he leisurely strolled up the hill towards the other cottage when something caught his eye in a patch of forest and he slid into the trees. Of course I didn’t have a camera. In some ways I am glad I didn’t have a camera. It makes it a personal moment for me. A delicious glimpse of nature no one else will share. Is that selfish? Is that regretful that I couldn’t capture the moment to impress others? If I had a camera, I don’t think I could have resisted using it. Does that make me a self-effacing raging egotist? There is something troubling me about the onslaught of pictures recording everything. It used to be memory that recorded our history. Memory is fickle, fragile and capricious, as well as being so malleable to our prejudices, pictures are so truthful in recording the exact scene, but only for one thousandth of a second. So what do you want? A dubious memory contaminated by prejudice and feelings, or a tiny slice of time that may not even represent the next second?
In 2007, my beautiful daughter Alice invited me along on an overland tour of east Africa. I was the only one out of 15 remarkable, brilliant people who didn’t have a camera. I think I got the best experience. I was storing to memory, not to disk. I was seeing the wider picture, not framing the shot through a camera zoom. I don’t regret it for a moment. And anyway, afterwards I was deluged with pics and video by the people who had sacrificed their direct experience time for recording for others. Thank you.
There are some people with more insight, or perhaps luck, who manage to capture a scene that is more timeless than a thousandth of a second. An old man repairing shoes in a middle-eastern market, a child of 5 leading a chain of water buffalo with a piece of string. The last image was from memory, as I never did take the picture. Perhaps what I am saying is that by all means take the picture, but don’t let it be a substitute for what you think and feel about the subject. And in the end, memories, however faded, tarnished or corrupted are with you always, pictures are dusty relics that may or may not take you back to your memories.
I have digressed from my story of a close encounter with a cassowary, but I hope you will indulge the meanderings of a senior citizen.
That’s really wonderful Paul, to be so close to those illusive birds,wow what an awesome day for you.
I dream of Possum Valley all the time, having spent a Christmas there with Mart. Marco and you joined us for dinner.
Something special about your Valley, that a camera can’t detect,its a magical feeling.
Cheers Raewyn Belson
Hi Raewyn,
It is somehow so much more satisfying to observe wildlife doing what they want to do in an unrestrained environment. In a theme park, they are cribbed, caged and confined and their behavior cannot be natural. This bird was strolling around very quietly in low gear looking for feeding opportunities. I am delighted that you share my feelings for Possum Valley as a special place. Martin and Josh will be visiting me in a couple of days. We will fix all the flaws in the universe in those few hours, or at least imagine it.