suburbia

Humans have moved into native animals' backyards yet many of us get upset when there is a possum in our roof and go to all ends to remove it by having it relocated. Some farmers even shoot these hapless animals that are only looking for somewhere to sleep during the day and something to eat. We have a responsibility to them because we caused this situation and it's possible to not only share our space but give back some habitat to them. Here's what happened to a friend of mine recently when a possum moved into his house..... See the sequel to this story.

Every time I talk to my friend, who lives in suburban Brisbane, he tells me of another encounter with a possum that happened in his house. Apparently there is a small part at the top of the window where this small possum can squeeze into. The first event was a loud crash and evidence of a microwave door window being smashed. The poor thing must have been sleeping in there! Lucky my friend didn't turn on the microwave...

Being an animal-lover, of course he had to offer the hungry creature some of his leftover birthday cake. After that, evening sortees into his house became more regular. I encouraged him to give the possum vegetable and fruit matter instead of highly processed food which could make a native animal sick in time.

The last encounter was yesterday when he went to get his haversack to take to work and who was sleeping inside but none other than Ms Possum. Unhappy to be woken from her snooze in such a nice dark, warm place obviously she would have been forced to find another dark warm spot to continue her rudely awakened and by this time much-needed sleep.

I suggested to my friend that he get a haversack especially for Ms Possum but then it occurred to me that a better solution would be to get a (available here possum house or simply make your own possum house
which is attached to a tree.That would be a nice dark location for the possum and its future offspring to sleep in by day. Perhaps position it in a shady spot so it won't be too hot in the summer. Possums should be encouraged to live outdoors and if they have a place to sleep and a food source there is no need for them to come into your house.

Relocating possums is not in the best interest of the possum. Possums are extremely territorial and if moved to another possum's territory may lose its life in a death struggle with the presiding possum.

Normally possums like to sleep in tree hollows but these are very rare and fiercely contended for by a variety of other animals. By providing a box for various native animals you will be allowing them to survive the damage wrought by tree felling over the years which has led to the destruction of their habitat.

Perhaps you could consider planting some trees in your backyard that it might like to climb in or some fruit trees. Possums feed on leaves, buds, flowers and fruits. Occasionally they eat insects, eggs, meat.

For those people who have orchards or vege gardens who object to possums eating the fruits of their labour, why not put a fence around the tree or the vege patch or at least part of it? The possums could at least have access to your compost pile. Possums come to my open, compost heap which is full of organic, unsprayed veges and fruit and must find something tasty in there.

Possums are native to Australia and therefore protected (which doesn't mean much in a country like Australia whose kangaroos are also 'protected'). However in NZ possums are regarded as 'pests' and number 70 million. They have no sympathy and are shot on sight by farmers.

Native animals have a right to live too. Without biodiversity we will all perish. Besides, possums can offer a pleasant diversion for people who live alone. Even though I live in the rainforest, the sound of the gutteral calls of the possum who comes around regularly at night and his funny way of running which reminds me of ladies in high heel shoes delicately prancing across my tin roof at top speed gives me pleasure.

There is something very satisfying about non-verbal interspecies communication. Fundamentally, we are all the same as all creatures seek happiness and avoid pain and suffering. Ultimately, nothing brings as much joy as helping provide another being its needs. For many native animals, their survival depends on our kindness, especially as they share our world.

Maybe the day will come when the lion will lay down with the lamb and man will no longer regard other creatures like kangaroos, possums, wombats and bats as pests but beings who share the planet with them in peace.

See the sequel to this story.

(Skyhooks photo adapted from www.abc.net.au/rage/guest/2001/skyhooks.htm)

Article by Tony Ryan

Peak Oz music

There was a time when a thousand rock bands had four million young Aussies swaying and singing in pubs across the nation. We knew only good things and the gods smiled fully on this the sunburned country.

This was a time when mankind’s top twenty found redemption in inspirational Australian talent… AC/DC, Men at Work, Cold Chisel, 10cc, Australian Crawl, Inxs, John Farnham, Skyhooks, Icehouse, Gerry Rafferty, Hunters and Collectors, Billy Thorpe and the Aztecs. The world wobbled on its axis, and some believed the Second Coming had arrived, but happy youth had lost count.

The creative momentum of Australian music was engulfing the known universe; when suddenly… someone turned the volume down; not just to Country Rock, or to Folk; or even to the profanity of Dead People’s Music; but to funeral ante-silence.

Then The Horror emerged. Intimidated publicans across the nation were visited by an army of faceless figures draped in sinister red tape, brandishing unstamped liquor licences, and who delivered the chilling edict that henceforth rock music shall be Noise Pollution, and forever banned. No drums. No amplifiers.

Without live gigs, nature’s roaring powerhouse of Australian talent shrieked down the scale to a barely audible whine, with a lucky handful of bands struggling to hold the holy OzRok banner to a visible height. Today, music is in crisis, with bands restricted to CBDs. A malignant and terrible darkness has visited our once happy land.

Overflowing clubs have become the profitable killing fields for alien drug lords; and are now the meeting houses for devotees of late night street violence. Private transport becomes essential survival gear but, every year, hundreds of young people complete a wonderful night out amongst the more harsh glitter and colour of broken glass and twisted metal.

Meanwhile, the yob brigades, alien to nightclub ambiance, and deprived of pub rock outlets for their wild energy, gatecrash youth home parties. When police arrive, there is the now-traditional rock and bottle throwing ceremony. When police fail to arrive, violence escalates to beatings and stabbings.

How did this happen? Why did Paradise end?

The End began with hard-eyed men in lumpy dark suits. We have no idea what transpired in certain conversations, but evidently unrefusable offers were made and politicians flew into power on election campaign budgets that would have strained the seams of Montgomery’s money bin.

We are sure these are but silly rumours but, it is whispered by fearful warehouse shift-workers that, one darkest midnight, certain politicians were seen dancing in the midst of a circle of gliding poker machines which were chanting metallically in unison exterminate, exterminate, while 666 whirred orgasmically on their barely focussed screens. What could this mean?

We asked the publicans and they finally agreed to talk to us secretly, in the sacristy of a disused Brisbane cathedral. It transpired that with the casting out of OzRok, the income derived from joyous free-spending rock fans was gone, and bankruptcy loomed like a black end-of-times tempest. As if acting on a signal, armies of Pokie Enforcers came visiting that very night, and installed their gambling machines, until there was only room for the rattling and singing, ringing and grinning monoliths; and their weeping and degraded victims.

But the Australian ANZAC spirit could not be crushed forever and rebel musos and their freedom-loving fans huddled and whispered in groups wherever the Pokie Enforcers dared not patrol.

Eventually, the brave OzRok Resistance was born and an intelligence network spread throughout the now-degraded land. Finally, the Pokie Enforcer’s darkest secret was exposed and revealed; that revenues had fallen calamitously; their pokie-addicts reduced to poverty, and upper-age Aussie income’s bled white by the corporate and banker barons.

Word has spread and the prophets are calling. The time has come for youth and its allies to gloriously rise up and, exerting the infinite power of profligate spending, as only youth is so congenitally entitled, repopulate the pubs; cast out the pokie idols, and replace OzRok to its rightful place of worship… the Suburban Aussie Pub (or beach or park).

Aussie politicians, harken wisely to our call. Purge your secret sanctums of conscientious liquor licence inspectors and replace these with hearing-impaired age pensioners; for this is their time-honoured vocation. And prove yourselves worthy as Guardians of the Great Aussie Destiny; that of realising the higher purpose of Human Evolution; which is, of course, to create the Perfect Riff.

So, dear reader, every time you pass a politician’s office, drop in and explain that Youth Music; always the people’s most popular music, can never be noise pollution.

And Queenslanders, the Chosen People, know that this great epiphany had its genesis on our own Sunshine Coast. Come ye all as pilgrims and open up this sacred Gympie tablet to Gig Guide. If, due to forces of darkness, it is revealed you can’t dance to driving music in the local xxxx temple, then the path to musical redemption leads to your nearest publican. I say unto you, as a vast multitude, get down on your knees and pray to him to cast out the pokie idols and bring back the bands. Amen.

See also: The truth about live export of 20 Jun 11 also by Tony Ryan