Lower Glenelg National Park, Victoria; a haven

Well it was a haven for us last week anyway. We set out on a Saturday morning, when it was still OK to do so, hoping to attend a family wedding in Adelaide. By Sunday everything was crumbling, and we realised the only responsible thing to do was to turn back. (If you're reading this in the future, and are puzzled by all this, I'm sure if I say just COVID-19 it will all come back to you!) However by then we'd arrived at Lower Glenelg in the far south-west of Victoria and reasoned that we might as well rest for a couple of days there as we'd booked and paid for our campsite. They closed the campground after we arrived so we had the place to ourselves for the three nights we were there - possibly the safest people in Australia! It was new to us, and a delight.

This is limestone country and the Glenelg River runs to the Southern Ocean just south of the park through a 40km
gorge cut into the soluble rock. There are caves here, as is usual with limestone, containing a skeletal treasure trove
of now extinct marsupial species (as well as more recent ones) which fell to their deaths in sink holes.

Approximate location (it's not actually in the ocean!) of Lower Glenelg NP.
It's actually a few kilometres inland, though we could hear the sea at night.
The cold Southern Ocean winds were often present too.

The vegetation in our section of the park mostly comprised Brown Stringybark Eucalyptus baxteri relatively dry open forest, with strips of Manna Gum E. viminalis forest along the river. The eastern end of the park, which we didn't visit, comprises botanically rich swampy heathland; I look forward to seeing it some spring when things are calmer in the world.

Brown Stringybark forest along one of the walking tracks.
This is a common tree across southern Victoria and into South Australia.

Manna Gum (or Ribbon Gum in our part of the world) grows near the river,
as it mostly seems to do everywhere.

Picnic ground dominated by remnant Brown Stringybark forest.
As you can see, the light was dull throughout our stay (though it didn't rain),
which neither I nor my camera could really overcome.

Our tranquil camp, also among the stringybarks.

One enjoyable 5km walk followed the river on the outward part of the loop, enabling memorable views of what is a very impressive and lovely river indeed.

The Glenelg River, here near the end of its journey to the sea.

Initially, after pressure from the vigorous Portland Field Naturalists Club from the 1940s, the Victorian Forests Commission responded to the Club's field surveys of the natural values of the area by offering to protect 'three chains' (about 60m) of vegetation along the river banks. They were probably thinking primarily in terms of recreation, as the river is popular with boaters. The Club pressed its claims however for a meaningful protected strip of at least a mile (1.6km) wide and in 1968 a 9,000 hectare park was declared. Five years later the Victorian government set up the ground-breaking Land Conservation Council to examine the state by regions, recommending areas necessary to protect a representative spread of habitats. By 1975 Lower Glenelg was expanded to its current size of 27,000ha, in line with the Portland Field Naturalists' original recommendations. (Basing land conservation on science seems a pretty radical concept now, sadly.)

Scented Paperbark Melaleuca squarrosa above the Glenelg River.

Lichens in the stringybark forest.

Some very impressive galls on a wattle bush. Insects from a wide array of groups inject the plant tissue,
especially leaves and stems, to cause a local 'cancer' of plant tissue growth into which she lays an
egg which develops with the double bonus of protection and a guaranteed food source.
The plants seem largely unaffected by the intrusion.

Other than that there was little obvious sign of insect life, though this lovely moth turned up in the bathroom block one morning.

Scioglyptis sp., probably Fuscous Bark Moth Scioglyptis canescaria (Geometridae).
(Identification courtesy Steve Holliday.)

However there certainly was a lot of small life on the ground and foliage, as small birds, especially Superb Fairywrens and White-browed Scrubwrens, swarmed everywhere.

Superb Fairywren Malurus cyaneus male which has almost finished his moult from his blue breeding finery
to his more discreet winter garb. For the next few months he doesn't need to impress the females,
so he might as well be less conspicuous to enemies for that time.
They were seemingly oblivious to us.

White-browed Scrubwrens Sericornis frontalis were also uninterested in us,
but only up to a point...

They had no qualms about hopping under and onto the table in search of any leavings.
This one is examining our gas stove to see what might have been overlooked by us.

Other campground birds were a little more discreet, though not by very much. 

Eastern Yellow Robins Eopsaltria australis are generally trusting and relaxed around people,
and these were no exception.

Male Golden Whistler Pachycephala pectoralis, always a treat, though
his glorious song was quiet now breeding had finished.

Red-browed Finch Neochmia temporalis, one of a scattered flock feeding on the grass.

I'll come back to campground birds at the end, to save the best until last! The taps, with associated drinking containers for animals, attracted some takers, though not as many as they doubtless do when it's hot.

Grey Fantails Rhipidura albiscapa, are seemingly ubiquitous in moister temperate Australia,
and are consummate aerial insect catchers.

Swamp Wallaby Wallabia bicolor. This is a truly lovely wallaby, and not closely related to any
of the other macropods. Below is one we encountered on the track.

By the grizzled muzzle and somewhat battered appearance, this one seems older
than the drinker - and with experience comes suspicion, it seems!

Here are some other animals we encountered while walking away from the camp.

This Koala - different days, different heights in the tree - seems to be resident in a couple of trees
by the entrance gate to the campground. An excellent 'meeter and greeter' for campers such as ourselves.

 

Common Bronzewing Phaps chalcoptera, a most attractive pigeon. Also present is the closely
related Brush Bronzewing, much less frequently seen and more colourful. We saw one
relatively close in dense foliage, but no photo possible, sadly.

Male Gang-gang Cockatoo Callocephalon fimbriatum in a feral pine tree - there are huge plantations
nearby, in Victoria and across the border in South Australia.

Another cockatoo which has taken to the pines - or at least their cones - is the striking big Yellow-tailed Black-Cockatoo Calyptorhynchus funereus. As we drove into the park a flock of at least 200 flew over us going to or from the pines. Here are a few, in very poor light.

Grey Currawong Strepera versicolor. This is a tricky part of the world for currawong identification. In most
places Grey and Pied Currawongs are readily distinguished; Greys are ashy grey with no white rump,
Pieds are glossy black with a broad white rump. However in south-west Victoria and adjacent South Australia
Greys are almost black and Pieds have only a narrow white band. No doubts about this one,
but they're not always so obliging in displaying their rump.

Little Wattlebird Anthochaera chrysoptera on Banksia marginata.
Not many appropriate flowers are out in autumn, so the wattlebirds and other large honeyeaters
are reliant on the banksias for nectar at this time of year.

Which brings us back to the campground, and two birds which made our stay there especially memorable. 

Olive Whistlers Pachycephala olivacea are perhaps not as scarce as they might seem (though this race,
hesperus, is regarded as Near Threatened) but they are generally shy and hard to see in the dense thickets
that they favour. This one briefly came right into the open just a couple of metres from us however.
Magic moment and the only decent photo I've ever managed of one.

Rufous Bristlebirds Dasyornis broadbenti are scarcer and shyer still, in the coastal heaths of
western Victoria and south-eastern South Australia. (Though they are said to be less elusive
than the other two species.) While we saw them regularly scooting into bushes, this is
the sole photo that I managed to take in the entire time. Better than nothing!

In these strange and difficult times for us all, I think it's important to have such memories to sustain us until we can get out and refresh ourselves again. Your own memories are more important to you than mine are, but it's not a bad idea to see things through other eyes sometimes too. And when this is all over, you could do a lot worse than go and enjoy Lower Glenelg for yourself.

NEXT POSTING THURSDAY 16 APRIL.
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