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Published: November 3rd 2005
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Royal Botanical Gardens
This is a typical view from the Gardens facing the city. Up To Your Ankles in Ducks and Other Animal Adventures
Each week Abby and I like to take a ‘field trip’. Nothing fancy, just something other than going to the beach or the mall or to a different beach. Our most recent excursion was to the Royal Botanical Gardens (RBG). The RBG is located right, smack, in the center of the city. Much like Central Park is for NYC. Les’ office is actually only one block away from the west entrance and we’ve meandered through it a time or two before.
But on this recent outing Abby and I got serious about exploring the RBG. That means we brought lunch.
Well I’m not sure if I can say enough about how fabulous the RBG is. It’s different from Central Park, or the Boston Commons (let alone Fairmont Park) in that it’s much more formal. There are not vast expanses of plain grass; rather there are wandering pathways through all sorts of beautifully manicured lawns, shrubbery, flower gardens, rock gardens, and no doubt toxic lethal Sydney plant gardens.
But unlike most formal gardens that are stuffy and challenging to negotiate, the RBG has one main rule posted all
More Gardens
It's spring here so the trees are in bloom. over the property: “Please Walk On The Grass”.
You do a double take when you first read it. Really? As in, if I want to get from this rose garden to that shrubbery outcropping by the statue of the little cherub I don’t have to take this mile long path? I could just say, skip across the grass?
Yep - skip away. They also encourage you to hug the trees. Generally they want you to frolic. And it’s great fun because frolicking in a formal garden feels so scandalous.
The other outstanding feature of the RBG is that it is on the water. With the Sydney Opera House and city skyline on one side, and a beautiful harbor on the other, you really can’t go wrong looking in any direction.
We were big fans.
But, as with all things in Oz, there was, of course, a catch. The visit was at the height of the recent fly plague and though I’d come to expect a fly or two in my mouth every time I tried to speak, I still hadn’t gotten a very good explanation for it. So when I saw a park ranger cleaning
Abby In the Gardens
Just chillin' on a bench one of the picturesque ponds I went over to ask him about the small issue of the 9 billion flies on my head.
The ranger offered some explanation about rain and lawn mowing and global warming but he didn’t seem very eager to talk about it. Rather, he drew my attention to the pond.
“This pond is a great example of the bio-diversity of our gardens.”
I was momentarily caught of guard by the conversation shift, but thought perhaps the flies factored in so I responded. “Oh yes?”
“Yes, well for example you can see,” and the ranger motioned with his arm, “all the Ibis - - the Australian White Ibis.”
The Ibis is possibly the world’s ugliest bird. It looks prehistoric and walks like it was programmed by a bad early animatronics movie. Further, they are the color of a bird that could be white if it stopped rolling around in mud. They are also very aggressive to picnickers. So I didn’t have much to say about the Ibis since I certainly had nothing nice in mind.
“Hmmm.” I mused.
“They are a real pain,” said the ranger much to my relief. “They stink and muck everything up.”
Not Tree Moss!
This doesn't really capture the vast numbers, but you get the idea.... I wrinkled my nose, totally fine with adding another nasty trait to the list of reasons not to like the Ibis.
“But,” continued the ranger, “they aren’t all we have, we have many different species of duck, fish and even eels.”
“Eels?” I asked, pulling Abby’s stroller a bit away from the pond’s edge.
“Oh yes, giant ones in fact.” He pointed down to the water and stared.
I stared too. Suddenly a long, and I have to say fairly large, eel slithered right past our feet in the pond below.
The ranger smiled and said fondly. “The eels are great. They really keep things in check. They’re a huge help mostly because they eat the baby ducklings.”
“Excuse me, what!?” I shook my head as if I’d heard him wrong. “Did you say they ate the baby ducklings?”
The ranger nodded happily. “Well not all of them, but quite a few. If they didn’t, you’d be up to your ankles in ducks.”
Again I really could only say, “Hmmm.”
It’s not that I wanted to walk around through a foot of water fowl, it’s just that I thought the enthusiasm he had for the demise of the little ducklings was a bit too high.
But I had underestimated him. He really found his groove in his next statement.
“Course you’ve seen our bats hey?”
“Yes,” I responded, happy to be unshaken by his little announcement. “Yes I have. My daughter and I saw one above her playground a few weeks back.”
The ranger looked at me and got a twinkle in his eye and then said softly. “No, no, I mean OUR bats.” Again he motioned with his arm, only this time up.
What can I say? How can I communicate the not one, but two, shrieks I let out? How could the RBG be so deceptive! Do they think they are clever with their Royal Walk On Our Grass trick which clearly is there to draw our attention away from the Dracula Party going on above us??
Here’s the bottom line. The RBG is home to NINE THOUSAND bats in the off season. During the summer (now) they have up to 20,000. I believe most were above our heads. That’s right, there were thousands of monster bats swinging right above Abby and I. Staring at us. These are no ordinary little mouse sized bats either. They are Fox Bats.
Naturally, as with all overly stubborn and horrifying species in Australia, they are not content to be average. The Fox Bat is the largest bat in the world. They have wing spans that have been measured up to 6ft. They are huge. They are bigger than many of your pets. They make the Huntsman Spider look like a Daddy Long Leg.
Did I mention there were thousands? The trees were positively covered. So much so that the overall mass of bats makes the trees look more like they are infested with moss, or gypsy moth tents. On a quick glance your brain just assumes some harmless tree problem. Your brain just doesn’t naturally jump to, “Oh sure - that must be a few thousand gigantic bats.” At least my brain clearly doesn’t. It had (and properly so) blocked that concept until I was forced to accept it, or rather them - - flapping their leathery wings. Hanging and staring and waiting, as the ranger said with relish, “for evening when they will go hunting all over Sydney and the suburbs.”
Having had just about enough of this ranger I stated with what I hoped was a firm, calm, totally unflappable voice. “Well, they can hunt all they want, we recently purchased screens.”
And then we took off at a rapid clip across the distracting grass, pathways, field of baby ducks, and whatever stood between the bats and our bus home.
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your grama
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just let you know
I wrote a whole lot of stuff and all of asudden it was gone so I,m trying again just to let you know I enjoyed the latest blog.to late now to start the long stuff again maybe tomorrow. it,s 11 pm here,, and Ive had a full long day..YOUr mom will know what i mean, love grama