The Mountain and the Huon, the two rivers.....Tasmanian Devils and Platypus, the two animals. And the birds? Just what is this all about? Well, the Huonville park provides all of the above.
Let me begin with the rivers. In my last I touched briefly on Mountain River and its relationship with the caravan park...they really do go hand in hand.
This lovely little waterway curves around the top and far end of the park (we've already discussed the 'riverside' sites!) and at one spot not too far from our site, a small sandy beach provided an ideal place from which to launch a kayak (more of that shortly).
From here the river widened as it continued on towards its confluence with the Huon,
just past the most delightful end of the park appropriately designated Gully End.
This is primarily an unpowered camping area where the lush green sward
ends at the river bank. As is obvious, this area was deserted during our stay, but I was told that during the holiday periods, particularly over Xmas, this becomes 'tent city', and why not? I struggled to think of a more inviting place to pitch a cover of canvas.
Just beyond this section of the park,
Mountain River flows into the much wider Huon River.
With the advent of fine and warm (a relative term in Tassie!) weather (it actually was quite balmy....we were almost in shock) and a right shoulder which was not playing up for a change, it was time to take advantage of this conjunction of conditions.
The broad sweep of the Huon beyond the mouth of the Mountain River was mirror calm. The scene was set.
The broad sweep of the Huon beyond the mouth of the Mountain River was mirror calm. The scene was set.
Yes, dear readers, the kayak came off the roof rack! I launched at the little caravan park beach and made my way downstream to the 'big water', where apart from negotiating the odd snag or two near the entrance,
all was plain sailing down to the town road bridge and back, a goodly jaunt of about three kilometres or so.
This really was picture postcard stuff.
Fortunately here the Huon River was so wide that the current, whilst apparent, did not make too many demands of my ageing shoulders on the upstream leg, and was so smooth that I left a discernible wake behind me.
Now that really was fun.....but there is a post script....one very stiff boy on the morrow!
Mountain River offered much more to those camped in this park than the opportunity to show a dab hand with a paddle. The park blurb and this sign on a riverside tree promised a platypus sighting for those with the necessary patience (and skill). I knew that I had a distinct advantage over all others in the park....I was cohabiting with 'Liz, the Platypus Whisperer', the toast of the Geeveston Information Centre (the staff there were very keen to receive our photos of the duckbills in their town creek!).
She had previously succeeded in spotting these elusive monotremes where may others had failed. And when it comes to this challenge, Liz really fires up. She was the first amongst the group congregated on the banks of the river to spot the tell tale line of bubbles which was closely followed by ripples on the surface.
The anticipation was mounting, but as it turned out her spotting skills were not really required. This little platypus was a real show-off.
It seemed quite undeterred by the presence of those of us lining the bank as it swam across from the jumble of trees on the other side of the river
and seemed to almost pose on the surface as the camera shutters clicked in unison.
As it transpired, we discovered (from day two onwards, obviously) that this was something of a daily routine. At about 1600 hours the show was on. A surface swim across the river
followed by a series of duck dives,
and then another lazy pose or two before the return paddle to what we assumed was its burrow on the opposite bank.
Needless to say for the many for whom this was their first sighting, the excitement was palpable. We, of course, were able to maintain a somewhat smug exterior calm...after all we were veterans (which was a complete act....we were just as enchanted as everyone else!).
And now to an Australian native which could not possibly be more different, the Tasmanian Devil. This park, as advertised, does include a farm shed, complete with animal races, beyond which an enclosure was home to a couple of these (now) uniquely Tassie marsupials.
All were invited to watch the afternoon feeding session, which was preceded by a short spiel from Rowen,
closely overseen by the park dog, a beautiful kelpie which was ever so keen to get in on the act.
Before the serious business began, and in keeping with the 'farmyard' theme, all the gathered punters were offered the chance to cuddle a tiny chicken,
an offer one of us could not refuse!
And then we were invited to gather around the glass enclosed yard for the main act.
The Tassie Devil was once native to mainland Australia, but is now only found in the wild here in Tasmania. With the extinction of the equally 'local' Tasmanian Tiger (the Thylacine), the Devil assumed the somewhat questionable distinction of becoming the largest carnivorous marsupial in the world, despite the fact that they are only the size of a small dog.
They are so named mainly because of their loud, unworldly sounding screech, but that is not their only less than attractive characteristic. They exude a pungent odour and when feeding, particularly if in a group, all table manners exit stage left.
With their large head and neck, the Devil has one of the most powerful bites for its size of any land predator and is completely unfussy when it comes to diet. Live prey or carrion are equally appetising to these feisty little creatures, which they consume completely.....meat, organs, bones, skin, feathers....as that advertisement of old for a brand of dog food used to trumpet...."Och, he's scoffed the lot"!
And don't be fooled by the rather rotund and stocky appearance of these animals. They are capable of a serious turn of speed, have long endurance and can swim rivers and climb trees........the complete hunting package.
Having a fundamental knowledge of all this, I was more than surprised to see just how placid the two kept here were (the unavoidable reflections have marred these shots somewhat, but I trust you will get the gist).
as they were brought out individually to munch on what is apparently a Devil's delight....a chook's head.
And, after a number of false starts,
I was actually able to snare a shot of the fearsome teeth which serve these chunky chaps so well at meal times.
As you may recall, facial tumours have decimated the species, but programmes such as that being pursued here at the Huon Vally Caravan Park are doing much to restore the numbers of these highly threatened and uniquely Tasmanian animals.
Once the feeding was over, and 'Fido' (I can't for the life of me remember the dog's name) had done his party trick of leaping up onto his master's shoulders,
we were all encouraged to ignore the parading ducks
and invited to wander over to the nearby pheasant enclosure where their much more colourful relatives were on show.
The star of the show had been nicknamed 'Donald' because of the extraordinarily resemblance his top of head feather arrangement bore to in both colour and style to the comb-over sported by that American buffoon who disturbingly carries the title of the 'most powerful man in the world'. This was one very handsome bird indeed.
His companions were less striking,
but would still hold their own in any show where colour and a superior style of strut were valued characteristics.
What an incredible animal array this had been. All part of the fun and frolics at this lovely park. I had almost forgiven the 'water con'!
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