Black Grasswren – bobmcgee

The Black Grasswren …

Bachsten Gorge, 11th June, 2013 …

Got it. First a call, then a fleeting glimpse of two birds up hill of us on top of a blackened sandstone boulder. We wait in the hope of a second look but a couple of minutes pass with no success. We creep up to a spot where we can look down on the boulder. Gone.

A few moments later the whole party can be seen travelling fairly quickly across country about a hundred metres up hill. Hoping that they would be consistent in their direction of travel we hiked hard to intercept them at a rocky knob on the skyline. We got there just in time to enjoy very brief close views as they went one by one over the crest of the hill.

This is, of course where I would put my photograph, but on this and subsequent contacts they were just too active to get them in the open and in focus. I hope Drew Fulton will forgive me using this superb photo of his …

This is a male, the girls have chestnut bellies. They are bigger than I expected, certainly bigger than the majority of Grasswrens and superbly coloured to fit into their environment. Picture it, open woodland with spinifex between the trees, broken by large sandstone boulders ranging from red to black, harsh shadows cast by the tropical sun, the grasswrens on the move, bold, active and beautiful.

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Bachsten Gorge (3) …

We were the third group to make it through to the camp at Bachsten Gorge for the season and the third group to require Rick’s assistance. He was considering closing the road until the water levels had gone down a bit. At that evening’s radio call he suggested that the Station ensure that people came up in groups. That was enough to deter any more visitors for a few days! Being bogged can be hazardous.

The camp has cabins, un-powered and powered camping sites. The generator runs late afternoon until evening. Showers were available any time, from 5 pm they were heated by a wood fire. Hospitality ran hot all the time, Rick and Anne are very lovely people.

The Black Grasswren requires large sandstone boulders and spinifex. We wasted no time looking but drew a blank.

That evening, though brought an abundance of wildlife in the form of Northern Quoll, Golden-backed Tree-Rat, Northern Brown Bandicoot, Monjon, Sugar Glider and Dingo …

Heaven is a warm shower, a cold beer, a Northern Quoll and a Black Grasswren. I was almost in heaven …

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Bachsten Gorge (2) …

Faint-hearted we were not, adequately prepared was another story.

We set off early from Turkey Creek and made good progress to about 35 km from the gorge. At Filter Creek the crossing proved difficult. A fallen log in the stream constrained every vehicle to the same path. The wheel ruts had become rather deep, too deep for our stock standard Prado. We bottomed out and stuck fast. We were in a convoy of one with no winch. The jacking points were not only under water, they were in contact with the stream bed. Attempts to feed logs under the wheels were predictably futile. Self rescue was not going to happen.

At 10am we put the satellite phone to use and rang Mount Elizabeth Station. They would inform the camp at the gorge in the next radio conversation. Because of limited power at the gorge there are two radio calls each day … the next would be at 5 pm. Rescue would not happen that day unless someone came up from behind, the station were not aware of anyone likely to do that. Would we please ring back at 5.30 pm.

We went bird watching then set up our tents. We had food for ten days and, as for water, our car was up to its doors in the stuff. No worries.

We called again at 5.30. They’d forgotten us. Not to worry, there would be another radio call at 6 next morning.

The following morning we were not forgotten. Rick would come from the camp and tow us out. He’d be there at 10 am. He was early. Our rescue was quickly executed. Rick then turned his attention to the offending log and carried out some deft underwater chain sawing. The rescued party meanwhile set about digging away some of the bank so that the crossing could be moved upstream enough to make our return journey easier.

The last 35 km took another couple of hours and involved a few more creek crossings and the passage of a particularly viscous bog.

But we got there, could we now find the elusive Black Grasswren?

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