The moment I saw the moth under the eaves of the garage wall in Central Avenue, I knew it was a species I had never seen. I needed my stepladder to photograph it. Miraculously, when I returned today, it had shifted its position to a better angle for the camera. The species has an interesting distribution, being found in southern Africa, Asia and widely in the Pacific islands, including New Caledonia, Fiji and central Polynesia. In Australia the species occurs in Queensland, New South Wales and South Australia. Wingspan is 4 cm.

I had another and better opportunity to photograph a Little pied cormorant at the pond in Driscoll Lane, two years after photographing a juvenile bird there. This is one of Australia’s most common water birds and is found throughout the country. This bird is an adult.

A bit of a fallen twig, some 15 to 18 cm long, with a tiny fungus attached to it, caught my on this morning’s walk. It was lying on some roadside grass. I ended up with three out of nine photos for my image library. It is quite a while since I last photographed a fungus and contacted Nigel Fechner, a noted mycologist. I asked him to hopefully shed some light on what I have found.

This morning I photographed a planthopper on the picket fence in Driscoll Lane. With wings spread, it was no bigger than my thumbnail. Peter Hendry emailed its identity later in the day. It is an Australian species, known as a Passionvine Hopper. It occurs from northern coastal and adjacent inland Queensland to western coastal South Australia and Tasmania. Today’s image is a much closer and clearer shot of the insect, than the one I took at the end of January, which it replaces in my Other Fauna album. I didn’t think I would see the insect again so soon – underlining the benefit of living where I film and photograph, allowing me to get another chance for a sighting and a better shot. Until I encountered this species, the wings of all the planthoppers I have filmed or photographed previously, were folded. 

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.