One way to stop topsoil from disappearing from under our feet is to use loose vegetation. Anything from grass and weeds to big logs will help catch it as it flows past.
The Southern ACT Catchment Group ran a workshop recently with Cam Wilson from Earth Integral as the expert advisor on how to make the best use of sticks and stones on small areas of erosion before they become large ones.
A knee-deep gully
“Start small” Cam advised. “If the erosion hole is deeper than your knees, it’s probably too big for a beginner”. Continue reading
diamond firetail finch photo by Chris Tzaros
This year the grand finale of our tree linkage project was not even on our own land. To complete the 3.9 kilometres (2.4 miles) of small plots that will allow birds like diamond firetails (stagonopleura guttata) and speckled warblers (chthonicola sagittata) to move around the landscape, we planted a larger area at the edge of the Dog Trap Road. A paddock that actually belongs to our neighbour Suzanne.
I was quite cautious when the idea of a “Green Army” was proposed. It seemed like a political stunt. And the cost of the payslips was going to be subtracted from Landcare, a community organization I admire a great deal.
Who was this Army going to attack? The trees? Us?
Who was going to join up? Willing people? Or grumpy teenagers who’d rather be playing video games, only moving when they were driven along with pitchforks?
And how would they feel about planting in rocks?
Last weekend we planted in two different directions at once.
We finished the final small tree lots that are part of the chain of connections across the Murrumbidgee river for small birds. That makes nine tree lots for connectivity only, plus two extra areas, a shelter paddock that used to be a calf-feeding area, and a decorative one that will have an avenue of white trunked eucalyptus mannifera at the entry to Adnamira . The two extras will act as bird stepping stones as well. Continue reading
At sunset on Anzac Day we planted an Aleppo Pine (pinus halepensis), a descendent of the Lone Pine at the centre of the 1915 battle at Gallipoli in Turkey. I don’t usually plant non-native trees, but this one was special.
The Rev. Peter Dillon, a former Army Chaplain, and Dad of our neighbour Leonie, gave a moving speech about the war, a prayer and a reading of the Ode of Remembrance by Laurence Binyan – the one that goes “They shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old…” Continue reading
Once we’ve got our trees planted, we usually walk away for several months and hope for the best.
But eventually we come back and check on them.
On the Easter weekend we had a whole crew of helpers to strip remaining covers from the 450 trees and shrubs planted in May 2013 near the cattleyards. Also known as “Georgia’s Patch”. Some of the wattles are now pretty tall and visible from a distance. That’s great for being able to see them when you drive past. The eucalypts have also taken off since the last time we looked at them in January, although the apple boxes (eucalyptus bridgesiana) tend to flop about when they’re released and disappear into the long grass. Continue reading
The Easter Bunny this year brought friends and excellent company – and the planting of 182 trees and shrubs
Generally, our method of planting trees and shrubs requires lots of water. We pour on 10 to 20 litres per tree to give them a head start in our dry landscape. We add mulch and a stout pink corflute plastic cover to help preserve the humidity, among other things. Then we walk away and hope for the best. We give them more water if the temperature goes over 40 degrees celsius (that’s 104 in Fahrenheit for people on the old-fashioned measurements).
Our truck mounted fire and tree watering pump plus 800 litre tank
But out new plants have the best chance of doing well if the general ground moisture is good and there’s regular rain after they’re planted.
Ground moisture when we planted this Easter – nil. Continue reading
I now have a wonderful kit that will tell me what’s in the water that flows past our house.
Finally, we have some way to tell what’s going on underwater, other than just admiring clear water rippling over rocks. Or staring at turbid brown floodwater, with the occasional tree or wombat carcass floating by, while hoping that we’ll soon be able to get across.
Andrew Leonard displaying a 2010 flood (no carcases)
Upper Murrumbidgee Waterwatch came to my assistance, specifically Woo O’Reilly and Damon Cusack who introduced me to the world of water testing, water bug assessing and riparian condition reporting. Continue reading
Topsoil is that thin band of living matter that lies across the landscape. Except when it is undermined or dissolved by rain and carried downhill into first the gullies, then the waterways, leaving the water silty and the landscape denuded.
As a child I loved to play among the eroding soil spires where you could imagine yourself in a miniature Grand Canyon. My little brother Andrew made endless tracks for his Matchbox cars in the walls of the gully near the house we now call Wombat Hollow. Occasionally he and I would help the erosion along by creating bucket-powered rivers and flood catastrophes that would flush the tiny battered vehicles over cliffs and down to their doom.
The traditional way to discourage gully erosion is to throw in some old car tyres, kitchen equipment, broken fences and spare car bodies, and hope they will collect silt. This sometimes even works. Continue reading
For the third time in three years, many of our trees are looking like ghosts of their former selves.
The immediate, obvious, culprit is the Christmas Beetle (an anoplagnathus species of scarab), a bit of seasonal joy in a shiny suit. If the weather’s right, it digs its way up from underground in November or December, munches its way to February, then dies.
Their larvae are called “curly grubs” around here and can be found pretty much wherever I’ve tried digging – from high up on hillsides to the sandy soil along the river, under the casuarinas. They don’t seem to lay their eggs where they feed, necessarily. Beetle bodies lie thickly under our eucalyptus nicholii peppermint gums that they don’t eat at all.
I hoped that meant that peppermint gums poison them, but I think they just like the shade. The shade that they remove elsewhere by eating the leaves of the Blakeley’s and Yellow Box gums. Continue reading
Nick and Nick’s Patch aka K2C Exclosure 4
Last autumn we planted up five mini enclosures to provide protection for small native birds and to re-establish a corridor from the Mullion Creek down to the Murrumbidgee River. It turned out to be a great way to get a lot of connection done without a massive amount of time spent planting.
At the time I was glad to see a lot of native speargrasses and scattered clumps of native bluebells (wahlenbergias) among the introduced grasses and weeds.
WHAT WE PLANTED
The numbers in brackets show how many of the enclosures include that species.
I’m really happy to have this list as I sometimes lose track of what I planted, and it’s a long hike uphill to check. In the heat of the moment I also sometimes make some odd choices. Putting river bottlebrushes on the top of a ridge, for example.
After we were done planting, Rainer Rehwinkel and Lesley Peden from the Kosciuszko to Coast Foundation came out and paced back and forward in each little area recording all the plants they saw. It was early in the season, so many of them were very tiny.
I looked up and made links on the names for many of the plants that interested me or I didn’t know well. I chose sites that had good information if I could, including the Atlas of Living Australia. There wasn’t one site that covered everything well. Some were fascinating, such as EattheWeeds.com Continue reading
The ancient trees that stalked across the paddocks when I was a child were my first clue that something was wrong with our landscape.
They started to die.
“Theý’re old” said Dad. “They’ve had their time. We just need to plant some more.”
So he planted more. The Goodradigbee Shire supplied Sydney blue gums in little plastic tubes. The big trees were eucalypts, and so were the new little ones. Not the same type, or even a local type but that was what was available.
I lobbied for planting some wattles, because I liked the flowers and the way they’d made a golden line down the valley when we first arrived.
“They don’t live long enough. They die after five years.” said Dad.
The trees he planted died even more quickly , most of them before they even grew up to the top of their metal sheep guards. Each guard was expensive and time-consuming to make, requiring two or three steel star pickets and a length of netting, plus a certain amount of tie-wire and cursing the rocky ground. Many of them still sit empty, too much trouble to remove. Continue reading
A big attraction of setting up the “small bird stepping stone” plantations on Esdale this year (five 20m x 20m areas that link the Mullion Creek vegetation to the Murrumbidgee) was the promised monitoring of the plants and animals. I’m really interested to see what the changes will be as the trees and shrubs grow.
It’s great to have an outsider do the official counts because I’m a lousy birdwatcher. I let myself be discouraged at an early age because I was short-sighted and found it hard to pick out a swan at twenty paces. Craig is better, especially with raptors and parrots, but we’re both unreliable with calls and identifying the little brown birds that all look so alike to the ignorant.
Somehow, they can tell themselves apart. Continue reading
In my short career as a radio journalist for 2XX in Canberra, I had precisely one news scoop.
That was, tah dah, the discovery of a new species of wildflower, weirdly called the “button wrinklewort”, at the Queanbeyan Municipal Dump in 1983.
It seemed sort of cool that someone had found a new flower, even if it was rather modest-looking.
And located in a dump. Continue reading
What an excellent idea, lilies that smell like chocolate.
Or vanilla, or caramel, depending on your sense of smell (or lack of it, in my case, thanks to allergies).
Something to make you smile, anyway.
When I saw the first glimpse of purple in the long grass, I thought it was Paterson’s Curse ( echium plantagineum), a European exotic which we’ve been working on controlling because it’s toxic and invasive. Continue reading
Seeds are such hopeful things.
The propagation days have started for the season at Murrumbateman Landcare. I usually go on the Thursday evenings, but this time I went on a Wednesday morning.
The seeds all look so enticing in their carefully marked plastic jars. I love the fact that there are neatly printed label for every possible thing we might sow. Continue reading
Weevils are cute.
Beetles tend to be sturdy and a little alien, flies have those weird multifaceted eyes, but weevils are like the Disney version of an insect, with big eyes and a long ant-eaterish nose. Continue reading
Things are blowing and banging around here. Trees lean over, the grass on the Adnamira hills ripples in patterns reminding me of a sandy sea bed. The hatch for our new guinea fowl house clatters every time a gust comes through. The irises in the garden flutter, no wonder they call them “flags”.
Somehow, it’s remarkably irritating. Tiring also, on the eyes and the ears.
Spring is the windy time of year here. At other times of year we often get still mornings and a breezy afternoon, but in the spring we can get day after day of wind whipping up the river valley from the northwest.
Although we had a millimetre of rain last night, there’s no sign of it. The ground is dry again and baking hard where there’s bare dirt. There’s nothing like wind for taking away soil moisture. The hills are turning from green to yellow almost as I watch, first the northwest facing slopes, and the ridges, then the more protected sides. Continue reading
There’s a saying about fences. And it’s true.
I have an extra one: “If you want to plant trees on a grazing property, you’d better have good fences.”
Not as catchy.
Only a couple of years ago I was naive enough to think that a few star pickets could prop up a fence with sagging strainer posts. But I’ve now learned that sheep and cattle are smart enough to find wherever the weak point is, and make their way through.
And if there wasn’t a weak point before, there will be one by the time they’ve finished scratching their rear ends or pushing at it.
What else does an animal have to do, standing around in a paddock all day, but plot a breakout? Continue reading
Snowy River Wattle Acacia boormanii
After the long chilly winter, it seems that finally we’ve got flowers again. The wattles as always make a show of golden baubles at the very end of winter and the beginning of spring.
Up on the hills and down to the river the Early Nancies (Wurmbea Dioica) have been flowering for a few weeks.