An 18 year old, with a passion for birds

On our way to Melbourne on Wednesday, we stopped at a pet supplies to buy Halter leads for our dogs. Different to a Halti lead (which acts like a horse halter) this lead incorporates a collar, with padded Sherpa sleeves that go behind the front legs. The lead and padded sleeves don't hurt the dog but they do stop it pulling, and instantly. It's a great find for us, as both our dogs are pullers. And Major weighs over 60 kg.



The 18-year-old who served us has a passion for birds and breeds cockatiels, Princess parrots and Superb parrots. He hand feeds and tames the chicks, his latest a delightful eight-week old cockatiel that lives on the counter during office hours. I was reminded of the budgie I had years ago that lived free in the house and was one of the most charming animal friends we've ever enjoyed as part of our family.

To the "big smoke" of Melbourne, for the day

It was with a degree of reluctance that yesterday I entered "the city gates" and partook of life in Melbourne for the day. Even though I was born and raised there, I prefer living in the country.

On the outskirts, a mushroom of pollution hung over the city; a haze of petrochemicals that left me with a bad headache. I'm used to the fresh air of the island where the wind blows clean off the ocean. However, I have to accept that there are times when I need the services and expertise found only in areas of high population -- especially medical services.

It takes two and a half hours to drive from our home on the island to Melbourne, with most of the distance being via freeways. Nevertheless, it's not an easy drive. The rate at which Melbourne is sprawling in most directions is astounding, with many country towns now considered suburbs of Melbourne. East of the city, housing estates are mushrooming on prime vegetable growing land, where deep fertile soils, along with abundant and reliable rainfall once produced high-quality vegetables. To allow housing estates to be built on this land, and then import vegetables from Asia, doesn't make sense -- at least to me!

On arriving home at about 10 o'clock in the evening, I stepped out of the car and breathed in the salty tang of air fresh off the ocean -- with just a hint of seaweed. Overhead, mutton birds circled the house, chuckling and cooing as they swooped and glided, playing in the wind before landing in the rookery to take their turn at sitting on the egg. Inside the gate, two very excited German shepherds greeted us, then inside the house, Katie yowled that distinctive Siamese call that voiced her disapproval of being left alone for the day. But soon she was in my arms and purring happily. A day spent in the city always leaves me feeling grateful that we live in the wide open spaces of Phillip Island and outback Queensland.

Dog-friendly beaches on Phillip Island attract people who love dogs

When we were buying our home on the island, I asked the Real Estate agent about dog regulations and she replied, "This is the dog capital of the world!". Over the years I've noticed that people often buy houses on our part Phillip Island because we have the most dog-friendly beaches on the island -- you can walk in both directions with dogs.

Generally speaking, the southern and western coastlines of the island are reserved for penguins, and the main beach at Cowes, for holidaymakers. What remains of the island is divided into off-lead and on-lead dog beaches. Over the summer period, however, dogs are excluded from all beaches except for the hours between seven and 10 a.m. and five to 8 p.m. Most people with dogs are responsible when it comes to cleaning up after their dogs and keeping them under control.

With German shepherds, we realise we have additional responsibilities, as some people are afraid of big dogs. Therefore, our dogs are on leads unless there is no one else on the beach, and then they run free. I've always had a passion for dogs, and Doug likewise, so the time we share walking on the beach with our dogs is a highlight of our day.

Penguins tagged and microchipped on Phillip Island

Occasionally a dead penguin is washed ashore on Phillip Island and we always check it for either a tag on its flipper or microchip on its back.


The microchips used on penguins are the same as those used on pet dogs and cats. Peter Dann and other marine biologists have been studying the movements and life cycle of the Little penguin (often called fairy penguins) for well over 30 years, and these microchips and tags have helped in the gathering of information.


When we lived and farmed sheep on King Island in the 1980s, we were involved with the banding of penguins on our coastline. One of the penguins we banded on King Island, Peter Dann picked up on Phillip Island a year later. And then we found that same penguin dead in our King Island rookery a couple of years further down the track. Bass Strait is a turbulent stretch of water and it's surprising to find that penguins move so freely between islands, with some venturing as far as southern Tasmania.

There is nothing quite as delightful as watching penguins tumble out of the waves at sundown, and then see them waddle up the beach in their quaint little dinner suits, to be met at the entrance to their burrows by hungry trilling chicks.

Holiday shacks bulldozed to build mansions

With Melbourne only 2 1/2 hours away, Phillip Island has always been a popular holiday destination. Twelve years ago, beach shacks were commonplace, with some upgraded when their owners reached retirement. Over the past five years, however, many of these homes have been bulldozed and double-storied McMansions erected in their place -- especially along the foreshore and anywhere with a sea view. Along with the luxury and glitz came sophisticated security systems and interestingly, a reduction in their use.

Many people reminisce about carefree days spent at their beach shack, hidden in tea tree scrub but only a few steps from the beach. Wet towels, sandy feet, dogs, kids, and fishing rods slide more easily into life in a fibro shack than in a McMansion. In the days of beach shacks, nothing was ever locked, housework was put on the back burner, men went fishing and kids were free to make their own fun.

During the 12 years we've lived on Phillip Island there have been big changes. No longer is there a feeling of community and this contrasts hugely with the strong community we enjoy in Mitchell, Outback Queensland. Along our road on Phillip Island, there are only two single storey houses remaining: ours and another halfway up the rise. From our single storey we have a breath-taking sea view and feel no need to have security alarms or cameras. We are beginning to feel like the odd ones out. But we are not about to change!

Sea eggs (urchins) tossed up on Phillip Island beaches

Finding a sea egg (sea urchin) washed ashore is one of my greatest pleasures. It's almost as if the ocean itself has laid these exquisitively patterned 'eggs'. Each varies in colour from white to purple; and in size, from a large marble to a tennis ball; and is made up thin, limy plates that are beautifully patterned and interlocked more accurately than any man-made jigsaw or mosaic.

When the sea urchin is alive its round, rigid case is covered with spines (sometimes red-tipped) resembling the prickly back of a hedgehog. They are not good to tread on with a bare foot! The living, breathing sea urchin has a mouth and anus but no trailing arms or legs.

When sea urchins die they are washed ashore, and in the process are rolled around by waves, and crashed onto rocky reefs and sand bars until all their spines are either broken or worn away. Usually the rounded case is broken too.

Every now and then though, a perfect sea egg washes up onto the sand, lying as treasure in a tangle of flotsam. Whenever I find and pick up one of these exquisitively patterned eggs, I think of it as a priceless gift from the sea.

New Year at Grossard Point in the golden glow of sundown

New Year's Eve was shared with friends at the Grossard Point light, boardwalk and viewing platform overlooking Western Port Bay and the Mornington Peninsula. When the sun dipped into the ocean at around 9 p.m. there were no crimsons, mauves or purples; simply a deep velvety gold. With drinks and nibbles we sat and talked, with muttonbirds dotting the sky, the occasional burst of fireworks, stars twinkling overhead and a vast seascape before and around us.

Other people came and went: young people, couples with dogs on leads, older people wanting to celebrate the New Year with neighbours and friends. On the cliff's edge and inside a high ring-lock fence, the Grossard Point beacon warns of a dangerous 700 m reef which extends towards the busy shipping channel. Below and to the west, rose-coloured cliffs surround a small, secluded sandy bay which is a popular swimming place for locals.

We didn't wait until midnight, preferring to say our Happy New Year's at about 11 p.m.. By midnight we were in bed, but heard the fireworks announce the New Year. Fortunately our shepherds are not afraid of fireworks, guns or thunder, but one firecracker was so loud and so near that Katie Siamese (who sleeps between us) jumped in fright.

The sharing with friends of the velvety gold sunset was, for me, symbolic of the closing of 2010; of hope for the New Year.