We had been planning our visit to the Lower Glenelg National Park for weeks with texts, emails and calls zipping between us. We had two sites booked at the Forest North campsite, and arrived mid-afternoon, keen to settle in, set up camp and relax for the next four days. Tents were efficiently erected, gear unloaded, the billy boiled, and a cuppa consolidating our arrival!
We were contemplating a dinner menu when we were surprised at the arrival of a rather scruffy old guy at the site. He just appeared and sauntered up. I must have been busy and missed any introductions but his appearance reminded me of Norman Gunston, minus the cigarette papers. He had cuts and scrapes everywhere around his shoulders, neck and face, but seemingly oblivious of his wounds.
‘Norman’ wandered around the site, inspecting our efforts but offered no assessment. He sat companionably for half an hour or so, and then disappeared, as inexplicably as his arrival!
“Did you see that red neck” I proffered. “Looks like a loser from the Coliseum”, somebody quipped. We decided his Alpha Male status had been effectively overturned and an ex-communication dictating a lonely existence!
We busied ourselves with the even
ing meal, a warm Chickpea salad, to be followed by stewed blood plums, custard and chocolate chips. Shadows lengthened, another cuppa was brewing and again we had visitors, unannounced, unnoticed, just there, in front of us!
The party was being led by this quite burly little bloke, sporting an unmissable, almost cobalt blue vest. He had four girls with him but had perched himself on a pole near the fireplace, the elevated stature achieving some dominance over the rest of his mob. There was some banter, some etiquette being established as ‘Blue Vest’ hopped down from the pole, and directed the group to tidy up the area where the breadboard had been wiped down.
It was hard to ignore their antics. Blue Vest appeared to have a favourite from his concubine, and they never strayed far from each other. At first, it appeared as though he was tempting her with titbits, but as we watched, we saw them all finding and feeding each other from the detritus of our dining table.
Breakfast the following morning was a busy affair. Norman joined us early and found a pear from a bag on the tailgate to munch, while Blue Vest and the girls found the toast crusts particularly appealing. The meal was interrupted by the arrival of a larger, Yellow-breasted Robin, who without much ado, muscled in on the feast. In the trees overhead, ‘Arrk, Arrk’ announced an interest in proceedings and the call had all on the ground, instantly alert. A “Murder” noisily flapped past as we tidied the site in preparation for the day’s outing. On the drive out, we narrowly missed a close encounter with a mob of striding, gawking emu!
It was all a-twitching on the Glenelg! 489 words