This morning, I photographed a moth at the garage in Central Avenue, which Peter Hendry promptly identified as an Australian species. For almost a year, moths at this once prolific site, have been few and far between after the owner changed the light bulbs yet again. It was one of three or four moths I saw, attracted by the heat and humidity. I had other moths of the genus in my album, but not this one. Which made the occasion all the more of a red-letter day.

Chris Burwell, emailed me today about the ant. It is a wingless female of a species of wasp in the family Mutillidae, which is carried by the male in order to procreate. It is reckoned that just under 200 Australian species in the family have been described, but the total fauna is probably at least twice this size.

This morning I photographed an ant, new to me, on the metal railing in Driscoll Lane. It proved to be a tricky subject because it was moving so quickly without pausing. It was on the top rail until it descended to the lower rail via a stray wire and became disoriented. Try as it might, it couldn’t find a way to return to the top rail, failing to climb all the way on the wire or on one of the posts. While it was attempting to work out its next move, I was able to grab a single good close up. I googled sites devoted to ants in Queensland and Australia, trawling through hundreds of images without finding a match.

This morning, at the Eagle Height’s bakery, I was told by the owner of the house behind the tree with the first ‘green man’ apparition, that neither he or his wife created it. See FILM DIARY of 14.11.22 below. My conjecture about who made it and the recent apparition on a tree further down the street, has no supporting evidence. Their origin remains a mystery.

This is an unusual post because it is as much about human creativity as that of the natural world. On this morning’s walk, I noticed and photographed a face on a flooded gum tree which had all the hall marks of the most inventive entry in the recently concluded 2022 scarecrow festival, though it had nothing to do with the festival. The face occupied the slightly raised area left by a large branch which had broken off from the trunk, a few metres from the ground.  Flooded gums are ubiquitous up here, some of the mightiest specimens attaining great heights in our national parks. The face resembled the folkloric image of the green man, though incorporating strips of brown bark instead of green leaves. PS A friend told me about a face on another flooded gum in the same street, which is marginally not on the route of my walk, and had been there for many years. Its creator didn’t need a ladder to fashion the face. The second face was probably inspired by the first, but did require quite a long ladder.

A pair of tawny frogmouths were perched on my balcony when I drew my curtain this morning. I took several photos as they moved their heads culminating in a pose with open beak, which I have never previously seen. Frogmouths are an attractive subject both because of their striking appearance and their quirky behaviour, such as sitting in the middle of the road at night. Although they look like owls and are nocturnal, frogmouths are not raptors. They lack talons and a beak capable of ripping flesh. Instead, they catch their insect prey on the wing. They are found throughout mainland Australia and Tasmania. When I closed the curtain in the evening, the birds were still there. Next morning, they were gone.

I saw the bird on my walk this morning, swimming in the dam, then much depleted, which forms in the paddock next to Driscoll Lane after persistent rain. I knew I had never seen it before and that, as it swam, it looked so unlike the few ducks who were also in the water; even more so when I photographed it on the bank, at up to 28 times optical zoom. The bird was an immature Little Pied Cormorant, lacking the white above the eye of the adult. It is one of Australia’s most common water birds and is found throughout the country. PS I saw it swimming and diving next day, the dam level having sharply risen after overnight rain. Its dive took it a fair distance underwater. I didn’t have my camera with me.

This morning I photographed a female goliath beetle, aptly named, at the garage and emailed a photo to the Curator of Entomology at the Queensland Museum who has been so helpful and supportive for many years. He identified a female in 2016, but I think this is a different species. In reply to an email I sent him last week which included a fetching photo of a ladybird with raindrops on its body, he disarmingly asked if I would mind if he passed on the image to the beetle worker who literally wrote the book on this group of ladybird beetles in the Australo-Pacific region? I replied that I would be honoured.

This morning, I resumed filming a native tree in flower, having been thwarted by rain a few days ago. It is the first time I have filmed anything since September. In the interval, the tree was unfortunately in a more depleted state. I had noticed it on my walk. Not only was it a pretty plant, it was also attractive to native bees, which are stingless and tiny compared with the European honey bee, also present at the tree along with several ants. In order to be able to film again, I had to buy a new battery, because the two I bought with the camera had given up the ghost.

Today was an exceptional day for moths at the garage. I replaced a moth already in my album with a better close up I photographed this morning and added a better close up of another moth only identified to genus. Plus, I photographed two moths new to my album, one of which has so far eluded identification.