Tag Archives: Toowoomba

Life at the edges continues

Like humans, wild creatures get hammered by storms and cyclones. How do the little things survive? Many of them of course don’t, while others find safe places to ride it out, and some get blown to distant locations. And of course, water brings life in many ways, long after errant ex-cyclones have departed. Once-dry creeks spring to life.

Soon after Oswald my son and I went dragonfly chasing with some naturalist mates. Water ran through patches of sunlight, while all about was evidence that great masses of water had recently torn downhill.

Redwood Creek, Toowoomba

A small creek runs through Redwood Park, at the base of the Toowoomba escarpment. Often dry, it was now alive with water, light, life and sound. Photo Harry Ashdown.

Dragonfly trip with Rod Hosbon, Al Young, Mark Weaver and Harry Ashdown. Redwood Park, Toowoomba. Four-barred Swordtail, Protographium leosthenes.

A Four-barred Swordtail (Protographium leosthenes). A member of the Swallowtail family of butterflies. All other photos by R. Ashdown.

Dragonfly trip with Rod Hosbon, Al Young, Mark Weaver and Harry Ashdown. Redwood Park, Toowoomba.

Odonata expeditioners Rod Hobson, Al Young and Mark Weaver seek that perfect image of butterfly or dragonfly. Redwood Park, Toowoomba.

Dragonfly trip with Rod Hosbon, Al Young, Mark Weaver and Harry Ashdown. Redwood Park, Toowoomba. Common Flatwing. Austroargiolestes icteromelas.

A pair of Common Flatwings (Austroargiolestes icteromelas) in the ‘wheel’ position. The male (front) is transferring sperm to storage sacs in the female. The female later uses the sperm to fertilise eggs as she lays them.

Dragonfly trip with Rod Hosbon, Al Young, Mark Weaver and Harry Ashdown. Redwood Park, Toowoomba.

Water Striders (Limnogonus luctosus).

Dragonfly trip with Rod Hosbon, Al Young, Mark Weaver and Harry Ashdown. Redwood Park, Toowoomba.

Ashdown and Hazza look for things to shoot, Redwood park. Photo courtesy Mark Weaver.

Dragonfly trip with Rod Hosbon, Al Young, Mark Weaver and Harry Ashdown. Murphys Bridge, Lockyer Creek.

We moved downstream. Murphys Bridge, Lockyer Creek. Slightly closed to traffic for a bit thanks to Oswald.

Dragonfly trip with Rod Hosbon, Al Young, Mark Weaver and Harry Ashdown. Murphys Bridge, Lockyer Creek. Australian Tiger, Ictinogomphus australis

Dragonflies scooted about near the bridge. The beautiful, aptly named Australian Tiger (Ictinogomphus australis).

Dragonfly trip with Rod Hosbon, Al Young, Mark Weaver and Harry Ashdown. Murphys Bridge, Lockyer Creek. Australian Tiger, Ictinogomphus australis.

The same species, photographed against the wrecked poly water tank wrapped around the bridge.

Dragonfly trip with Rod Hosbon, Al Young, Mark Weaver and Harry Ashdown. Murphys Bridge, Lockyer Creek. Australian Tiger, Ictinogomphus australis.

Poised for take-off. Australian Tiger again, different angle.

Dragonfly trip with Rod Hosbon, Al Young, Mark Weaver and Harry Ashdown. Murphys Bridge, Lockyer Creek. Hemicordulia superba. Superb Emerald.

This one may look at first glance like an Australian Tiger, but the seasoned eyes of the dragonfly spotters immediately pegged it as different. It’s a Superb Emerald (note the colour of the eyes). Hemicordulia superba. The only shot I managed to grab of it. Normally found further to the east, perhaps blown inland by the winds of Oswald.

Dragonfly trip with Rod Hosbon, Al Young, Mark Weaver and Harry Ashdown. Stockyard Creek, Rockmount.

We moved on again. Rod surveys Stockyard Creek, near Rockmount.

Dragonflies_02_03_13-171

A female Scarlet Percher lays eggs in the water, male still attached.

Gold-fronted Riverdamsel. Pseudagrion aureofrons. Stockyard Creek.

Gold-fronted Riverdamsel (Pseudagrion aureofrons), Stockyard Creek.

Dragonflies_02_03_13-151

Brachychiton survivors

Most working days I walk through Queens Park on my way to and from town, passing a beautiful Queensland Bottle Tree (Brachychiton rupestris).

Kurrajong, Queens Park, Toowoomba. I ended 2012 by taking some extended leave, and each morning I walked the little black dog through the park, gradually slowing down and looking around instead of rushing to work.

While I’m a bigger fan of wild areas, there are always things to discover in parks. The more I looked at this tree, the more I saw and liked. Walkers, dogs, joggers ands cyclists pass directly under its canopy, lost in their thoughts and usually oblivious to its charms.

Over the next three months I kept looking, photographing it with whatever I had on hand. Not knowing anything about Brachychitons I was concerned when it shed most of its leaves in the hot, dry October/November weeks, thinking it was drought stressed.

Kurrajong, Queens Park, Toowoomba.

A carpet of dead leaves during dry summer months. All photos R. Ashdown.

Kurrajong, Queens Park, Toowoomba.

However, a bloom of new orange and pink foliage belayed my fears. I found out later that this is a characteristic of these trees — they often do this before flowering, and they can also shed leaves to conserve moisture during prolonged drought.

Kurrajong, Queens Park, Toowoomba.

Kurrajong, Queens Park, Toowoomba.

Queensland Bottle Trees often shed their leaves before flowering, or during drought times. New growth is a beautiful pink colour.

Kurrajong, Queens Park, Toowoomba.

Kurrajong, Queens Park, Toowoomba.

Good to see I’m not the only one admiring this tree.

Also known as the Narrow-leaved Bottle Tree, this is one of  31 species of Brachychiton, with 30 found in Australia and one species in New Guinea. The common name “bottle tree” refers to the characteristic trunk of the tree, which can reach up to seven metres in circumference. Fossils from New South Wales and New Zealand have been dated at 50 million years old.

Pale-headed rosella in Kurrajong, Queens Park, Toowoomba.

Pale-headed Rosellas seem to enjoy chewing the bark of bottle trees. A pair  regularly hang out quietly in the tree.

Kurrajong, Queens Park, Toowoomba

The tree supports  a mosaic of lichens, usually very pale and hard to see during dry times.

Kurrajong, Queens Park, Toowoomba.

Midday, and bloody hot! A distinguishing feature of this particular tree is a water-mark that runs down one side. These trees do not store reservoirs of water, but their interior is made of a spongy, fibrous material that holds moisture. Photo by Harry Ashdown.

Kurrajong, Queens Park, Toowoomba.

Sometimes, despite there being no rain for days, moisture seeps down the water-mark. Maybe early morning condensation moving down branches?

Kurrajong, Queens Park, Toowoomba.

Rain at last — summer thunderstorms appear in December 2012.

Kurrajong, Queens Park, Toowoomba.

Workers return home through welcome rain …

Kurrajong, Queens Park, Toowoomba.

… while, soaked with water and lit by the twilight, the tree glows quietly.

Kurrajong, Queens Park, Toowoomba.

A dark, rain-soaked trunk sports subtle hues …

Kurrajong, Queens Park, Toowoomba.

… and the lichens seem to spring outward.

Kurrajong, Queens Park, Toowoomba.

Before long we are back to long, searing days again in January 2013’s record heat wave.

Queensland Bottle Trees are endemic to a limited region of Australia — Central Queensland through to northern New South Wales. In 1845 the explorer Thomas Mitchell led an expedition seeking an overland route from Sydney to the Gulf of Carpentaria. He ran into these trees on his journey, within the brigalow (Acacia harpophylla) scrub that covered much of central Queensland. Mitchell found some trees so wide that a horse standing side on was said to disappear from view. This tree would be the saviour of many early squatters.

Barakula State Forest, Kurrajong.

A name-carved bottle tree has witnessed families come and go in Central Queensland.

The Bottle Tree’s most striking characteristic was that its trunk was not made of sapwood like ordinary trees, but rather consisted of a spongy fibre, which was also filled with moisture. In times of drought, settlers would cut down bottle trees and peel off the bark —  exposing the fleshy fibre, which cattle would eat. A large tree could satisfy a hungry, thirsty herd for weeks.

Indigenous peoples of course knew the value of this tree, carving holes into the soft bark to create reservoir-like structures, and the seeds, roots, stems, and bark have all been a source of food for people and animals alike long before white settlers arrived. The fibrous inner bark was used to make twine or rope and even woven together to make fishing nets.

Kurrajong

The strange, spongy bark of a Queensland Bottle Tree.

Auburn River NP 2004.

Bottle tree seed-pods, Auburn River National Park. This is a close-relative, the Broad-leaved Bottle Tree (Brachychiton australis).

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Seed-pods of Brachychiton australis. Photo courtesy Vanessa Ryan.

Deemed a ‘useful’ tree, bottle trees were often left by settlers when they were clearing land. Today, solitary specimens are often seen in fields. To me they are reminders of times not so long ago when vast areas of central Queensland were covered in scrub.

Near Proston, Bottle trees

Near Proston, Central Queensland. A hill once covered in ‘softwood scrub’.

Kurrajong, Roma.

Farmlands and remnant bottle trees, Roma.

Kurrajong, Roma.

Roma, central Queensland.

In the brigalow-dominated landscape of the Queensland bio-region known as the Brigalow Belt, Queensland Bottle Trees were found within pockets of ‘softwood scrub’ —  or ‘semi-evergreen vine thicket’, a type of scrubby, dry rainforest. These ecosystems show some of the characteristics associated with the wetter tropical type of rainforest but are less luxuriant, lacking species such as tree ferns, palms and epiphytes. They also have a reduced canopy height and are simpler in structure.

A Brachychiton standsout amongst the silver foliage of Brigalow (Acacia harpophylla).

A Brachychiton stands out amongst the silver foliage of Brigalow (Acacia harpophylla). Arcadia Valley, central Queensland.

Auburn River NP 2004.

Queensland Bottle Trees are lit by the afternoon sun within remnant softwood scrub, Auburn River National Park.

Isla Gorge NP

Down at ground level within softwood scrub at Isla Gorge National Park (the trunk of a bottle tree is on the right). The technical term for these scrubs is ‘semi-evergreen vine thicket’.

Adaptations found in these forests to drier environments include smaller, thicker leaves, swollen roots and stems, and an (optional) deciduous habit — meaning that plants can preserve moisture by losing their leaves in times of extreme drought.

Auburn River NP 2004. Bottletree, Brachychiton.

Auburn River National Park. A Queensland Bottle Tree stands over the flooded river, 2004.

Auburn River NP 2004. Bottletree, Brachychiton.

The same location — a Broad-leaved Bottle Tree in its original habitat. A tad wilder, and a lot more interesting, than Queens Park.

Since white settlement approximately 83 percent of this type of ecosystem has been cleared, and the remaining patches are classified as endangered ecological communities.

About 20 percent of the remaining patches are found in protected areas, such as Cania Gorge, Carnarvon, Bunya Mountains and Expedition national parks. I’ve spent some magic hours walking within these remaining patches of softwood scrub, and it’s always exciting to come across a large bottle tree within its original habitat.

Kurrajong

A mighty specimen reaches high above cleared farmland in central Queensland.

Bottle Trees are also sought-after ornamentals, and line the streets of towns from Brisbane to Roma.

Queensland Bottle Tree, Brisbane

Queensland Bottle Tree, Brisbane (thanks, Susan).

Queensland Bottle Tree, Anzac Square, Brisbane. Photo courtesy Vanessa Ryan.

Queensland Bottle Tree, Anzac Square, Brisbane. Photo courtesy Vanessa Ryan.

My solitary Queens Park tree, looking down onto Toowoomba’s central business district, seems odd and out of place to me in this cultivated landscape — a strange, silent, and somewhat troubling reminder of wild times past, when tangles of un-tamed vine scrub ruled much of the land now civilised and ordered by farms and towns.

Kurrajong, Queens Park, Toowoomba

Kurrajong, Queens Park, Toowoomba.

Bottle Tree, Queens Park, Toowomba

January 27, 2013. Ex-tropical cyclone Oswald works its way down the east coast, bringing heavy rain and winds, and soaking ground for thirsty trees.

Bottle Tree, Queens Park, Toowomba

Bottle Tree, Queens Park, ToowombaBottle Tree, Queens Park, ToowombaBottle Tree, Queens Park, ToowombaBottle Tree, Queens Park, ToowombaBottle Tree, Queens Park, ToowombaBottle Tree, Queens Park, ToowombaBottle Tree, Queens Park, Toowomba

Queensland Bottle Tree.

Next day. The rain and wind has gone, the ground is soaked, shadows are back with the afternoon sun.

Queensland Bottle Tree.

Water still soaks down the tree’s side.

Queensland Bottle Tree.

A millipede enjoys the water.

Queensland Bottle Tree.

 

Red Triangle Slugs on the rampage

It’s a mid-winter night in Toowoomba, raining and cold. I step outside and my bare foot squishes something cold — cold, but very much alive.

Red Triangle Slug Triboniophorus graeffei.

The Red Triangle Slug (Triboniophorus graeffei), an air-breathing native slug. Photo R. Ashdown.

Oh no! I’ve trodden on a favourite invertebrate, one of a host of unusual creatures that come out to play in the suburbs at night. It’s a Red Triangle Slug — creator of the strange rows of circular marks covering fences and trees throughout town. It’s a wonderful wet night, perfect for them to rampage about the backyard.

Feeding marks of Red Triangle Slug Triboniophorus graeffei on fence.

The grazing marks of Red Triangle Slugs on a Toowoomba fence. Photo R. Ashdown.

These colourful native animals are one of approximately 1,500 species of land snails and slugs found across eastern Australia, a number that includes both native and introduced species. Most of the slugs and snails found throughout the gardens of towns such as this one are introduced, as native species have not coped well with the changes that urbanisation have brought to their original habitat. Red Triangle slugs, however, are an exception — survivors and adaptors, turning up all over the place.

Red Triangle Slug, Triboniophorus graeffei, Ravensbourne NP

A Red Triangle Slug in rainforest at Ravensbourne National Park. Photo R. Ashdown.

What type of creature are these Red Triangle Slugs, named for the … well, red triangle … on their backs? They are “terrestrial pulmonate gastropod molluscs from the family Athoracorphoridae”, the leaf-veined slugs.

Molluscs are soft-bodied invertebrates that usually have a shell for protection from human toes and other problems. They have a ventral foot for locomotion and, in aquatic species, gills for respiration. Their digestive and reproductive tissues are located together to form a visceral mass inside their bodies. An extensive fold of tissue, known as a mantle, covers them and is a protective sleeve for the head and gills. In snails it produces the shell. In the Triangle Slugs, it is reduced to the red-bordered patch on their backs.

Slugs and snails belong to the class of molluscs known as gastropods, which includes marine, freshwater and land snails (mostly with coiled shells) and slugs (without shells).

Red Triangle Slug, Triboniophorus graeffei,

The eyes have it. Simple eyes, on tentacles. Optical tentacles, if you like. Slugs can only ‘see’ light and dark, and the eyes are not able to focus. Photo R. Ashdown.

Growing to a length of 14 cm, the Red Triangle Slug is One of Australia’s largest native slugs. Found in coastal forests (and some towns) from around Wollongong New South Wales north to Mossman in northern Queensland, they graze on the microscopic algae that grow on tree bark, footpaths, posts and fences, among other things. Naturalist Martyn Robinson discovered that if given the chance these slugs will also remove bathroom mould!

Feeding marks of Red Triangle Slug Triboniophorus graeffei on fence.

The circular feeding marks of Red Triangle Slugs on a Spotted Gum. Photo R. Ashdown.

Red Triangle Slug, Triboniophorus graeffei, on camphor laurel

Late afternoon on a dark, wet day. A Triangle Slug roams a Camphor Laurel next to the Clive Berghoffer Stadium. Photo R. Ashdown.

Red Triangle Slug, Triboniophorus graeffei, eating algae on back steps

Alas, our stairs are in poor shape. Any remains of paint have been replaced by algae. Perfect, however, for a rampaging slug looking for a feast. Photo R. Ashdown.

Red Triangle Slug, Triboniophorus graeffei, eating algae on glass window

Doesn’t say much for the state of the back-door’s glass either! This slug runs amok in search of algae, or seeks a view of what the humans get up to at night. Photo R. Ashdown.

Red-triangle Slugs come in different colours. While the most common colour form is a creamy white animal with a prominent red triangular mantle shield, all-red and all-yellow animals can be found at Cunninghams Gap (south of Toowoomba). Future molecular studies may reveal that some of these colour forms are actually distinct species.

Red Triangle Slug, Mt Mitchell NP, Cunninghams Gap.

An orange form of the Red Triangle Slug, at Mt Mitchell NP, Cunninghams Gap. The hole inside the red triangle is the animal’s respiratory opening, known as a pneumostome, or breathing pore. This is a feature of all air-breathing land slugs and snails. Photo Harry Ashdown.

Photographing a Red Triangle Slug, Mt Mitchell, Cunninghams Gap.

Photographing a Red Triangle Slug, Mt Mitchell, Cunninghams Gap. Photo R. Ashdown.

Red Triangle Slug, Toowoomba

Toowoomba resident Jane alerted me to the presence of a beautiful red form of the slug in her Toowoomba backyard. Here are several curled up in a log in her great garden. Photo R. Ashdown.

Colour variations in Red Triangle Slugs

Colour variations in Red Triangle Slugs, from Australian Land Snails, Volume 1, by John Stanisic, Michael Shea, Darryl Potter and Owen Griffiths — gastropod gurus! Courtesy Darryl Potter.

If you have read this far you are probably not the kind of person who finds slugs disgusting. So, I don’t need to finish this post with a monologue about the important role native slugs and snails play in our ecosystems, as they go about recycling nutrients and offering themselves up as (sticky) food for many other critters.

I’ll just end by saying that it’s always great to see these little slow-motion beasties on wet nights, but not so great to feel them between your toes!

Red Triangle Slug on footpath, Toowoomba.

A Red Triangle Slug motors slowly along the footpath outside our place near midnight as cars swish past. A splash of colour on a drab, dark night in the ‘burbs. Photo R. Ashdown.

Slugs on the web:

Pobblebonk

Midnight on a foggy, humid Toowoomba night. I venture into the backyard — un-mown grass and rampant green, a very different sight to the yellow, dry block that we took on when we moved here ten-odd years ago. We’ve done little to it, it has just rained a lot lately and everything has grown.

Scarlet-sided Pobblebonk

Lurking in the yard at midnight — a Scarlet-sided Pobblebonk. All photos R. Ashdown.

February 2012’s rainy weeks have been sublime weather for all sorts of critters, including frogs. There in front of me at midnight, frozen by the light, was a new species for our yard, a Scarlet-sided Pobblebonk — one of my favourite frogs. What a fabulous thing to find lurking in the yard late at night!

Scarlet-sided Pobblebonk

The Scarlet-sided Pobblebonk (Limnodynastes terraereginae) is a member of a group of well-built, ground-dwelling and/or burrowing Australian frogs. Scarlet-sided Pobblebonks are also known as Northern Banjo Frogs, in both cases the name comes from the call of the males — when lots are going off they make a sound like a banjo being plucked, or a bubbling series of slightly different "bonk" noises.

Scarlet-sided Pobblebonk

Pobblebonks are burrowing frogs, and are only seen on the surface after lots of rain. Sometimes people find them in the garden after rain and mistake them for the introduced Cane Toad. We have lots of brown native frogs though, and this one is more colourful than a Cane Toad when you get up close.

Scarlet-sided Pobblebonk

The scarlet sides of the Scarlet-sided Pobblebonk. A regal king of the marshes indeed.

Scarlet-sided Pobblebonk

About to head off. Scarlet-sided Pobblebonks are found on the western slopes and ranges of northern New South Wales, through eastern Queensland and up to Cape York Peninsula. And in my dodgy back-yard. Outstanding!

 

More rain, more fungus, new birds

Fungi, Queen's Park, Toowoomba

Fungi, Queen's Park, Toowoomba


Why was this fungus interesting? Well, apart from the fact that I just like fungi, it was at the base of an exotic pine tree in Queen’s Park, in the top branches of which three Yellow-tailed Black Cockatoos, a new Toowoomba bird species for me, were prising apart pine cones. My little camera had no hope of catching a decent cockatoo image, so this fungus is here instead!

Summer invertebrates on the move

Summer heat after some rain in Toowoomba and the air has been full of tiny insects on the move.

Small insects on the move in the hot summer air.

Small insects on the move in the hot summer air. Photo R. Ashdown.

Swallows dart and weave, snapping them up. Photo R. Ashdown.

Swallows dart and weave, snapping up a protein feast. Photo R. Ashdown.

Tint spider-lings drift pass on small strands of web, and land on the grass. Photo R. Ashdown

Tiny spiderlings ‘baloon’ about. They drift pass on small strands of web, and land all around us on the grass. Photo R. Ashdown

Tiny spider-webs covering flowers in the Toowoomba Botanical Gardens. Photo R. Ashdown

Tiny spider-webs covering flowers in the Toowoomba Botanical Gardens. Photo R. Ashdown

Winged Sugar Ants mill about our large colony under old sleepers in the driveway. Conditions are right for the colony to produce winged ants (known as alates). These are reproductive males and females, which swarnm and mate. The males die within a few days but the females (future queens) fly off to find a new nesting site, shed their wings and establish a new colony.ants (alates)

Winged Sugar Ants mill about our large colony under old sleepers in the driveway. Conditions are right for the colony to produce winged ants (known as alates). These are reproductive males and females, which swarm and mate. The males die within a few days but the females (future queens) fly off to find a new nesting site, shed their wings and establish a new colony. Photo R. Ashdown

Unlike most of the colony's ants, alates are black. Large worker ants stand guard around the mating alates. Photo R. Ashdown.

Unlike most of the colony’s ants, alates are black. Large worker ants stand guard around the mating alates. Photo R. Ashdown.

 

March of the Mysterious Moon Ants

Banded Sugar Ants

The mysterious twilight procession begins. Up the driveway, across some steps and along our paved area with relentless purpose. Photos taken by Rob and Harry Ashdown on Canon Powershot G10 and G12.

Every summer, about twilight, when the throaty rumble of newly-emerged Bladder Cicadas fills our ears, a strange procession happens outside our back door. Large ants wander up from the driveway, always heading in the same direction — across the back paved area in the direction of our neighbours’ house.

Banded Sugar Ants

Banded Sugar Ants on the go. Sugar Ants come in many shapes and sizes, and are named after their habit of collecting sugary plant secretions, although most species are also scavengers and predators. Many Brisbane species are nocturnal.

We’ve come to call them Moon Ants, for some reason, probably because they come out only at night, and we’ve watched them in the moonlight (as you do). We quizzed Susan about them when she visited a few years back. Susan’s a guru of all things entomological, which she should be, as she’s an entomologist at the Queensland Museum in Brisbane. She filled us in. These are Banded Sugar Ants (Camponotis consobrinus), members of the largest genus of ants in the world, a group that comprises thousands of species, of which at least 20 are found in the Brisbane area.

Banded Sugar Ants

Sugar Ants differ from other ants in several ways, according to the Queensland Museum’s wonderful guide to ants (seriously, this is a fabulous book). Most have no metapleural gland (you knew that I’m sure), and they lack its associated opening above the base of the hind leg (you probably knew that too). There’s more. They have a single segmented waist and the mesosoma and petiole lack spines (I knew that … well, I do now). Workers don’t sting, but can spray formic acid into a bitten area. Ouch!

Although big and fierce looking, Banded Sugar Ants don’t sting, but they can bite, although we’ve yet to be savaged by any. They fare rather worse in our encounters, often getting flattened by foot traffic out the back at night.

Banded Sugar Ants

A Banded Sugar Ant pauses to inspect the body of an unfortunate colleague, tragically flattened by the giant feet of blundering humans.

Last year we went on a mission to track down their nest site, which we found under some old railway sleepers alongside the driveway. We didn’t disturb them, and although most people have a fair amount of disdain, or even hostility, for ants, I reckon they are terrific. We always like watching their purposeful march past our back stairs. Another piece in the jigsaw of our strangely diverse suburban backyard.

  • More about Sugar Ants, and everything else, from the Queensland Museum’s website.
  • A fabulous book about Brisbane’s ants, from the same bunch of natural history gurus. Written, with clear enthusiasm and riddled with an abundance of fascinating facts, by Dr Chris Burwell — and with insanely good photography by one of my favourite photographers (and old mate) Jeff Wright. A must-read for any natural historian.