The 'friendly' isle

Or as Mountain Dad has censored, I mean suggested, the sarcastic-'friendly'-because-of the-wildlife-not-the-people isle. Maybe he doesn't want to have us confusing his humour with Tonga. Maybe he doesn't want to upset the locals. Maybe he's just not as funny as he thinks he is? Surely not the latter...

It's hard to recall his complaints, I mean observations, from when we first arrived back in the Land Downunder. He definitely progressed over the course of his two months from his initial utter fear-terror to a state of mild wariness. It's hard to imagine how one could find complaints with this balmy paradise. I'm sitting right now on the Grandparentals deck in shorts and singlet. The breeze blows cooly, the beer beside me warms slowly. I am on my won as both children are sleeping. Simultaneously. Mmm-hmmm, you heard me. Simultaneously. I almost panicked when I first realised - what to do? What to do? With this precious time I must relish - what of the many pleasures that children have robbed me of could I now do? I chose drinking and writing. Maybe that's why Australia seems so very fine right now? It's actually just because I have simultaneously sleeping children.

Mountain Dad, though, is prone to exaggeration and the mild case of melodrama. I'm sure this sunburnt land can't be that dangerous. I'll try to recall some of Mountain Dad's fixations...

- Lion Ants. While out collecting our Christmas Tree (in thongs and sun-hats) he commented on the plethora of small round, sandy valleys around our feet. I shrugged my disinterest. The Grandparentals vaguely mentioned that it may have something to do with ants and we wandered on. Mountain Dad fixated. Lion Ants, he muttered. He thinks they're Lion Ants. Big, bug-like ants that sit buried in the bottom of the valley with their pincers hidden but poised to grab onto any wee insect that may slide into it's lair. Look, he demonstrated, and poked a stick into the closest valley and lo, we saw a rather alarmingly big set of pincers make a grab for  his decor. Whadda ya know? we mused and wandered on, ignorant of the school-like lesson we'd be receiving later that night, accompanied by the best of Google images and video of the unfriendly Lion Ant.

- Rays. "You know we should be shuffling our feet in the sand," he asked while out at the beach one day. Ray's hide in the sand, "they're everywhere, you know?" I guess I know they are, but honestly don't think about them too much. "I think I'll buy some water shoes to wear at the beach," he mused.
I swear I have NEVER seen someone wear water shoes at the beach but knew that if he got some, I'd bloody have to as well. I was slowly beginning to buy into the paranoia.
He even reckons a 'King Ray' hit the bottom of his kayak and rocked it, when he was out for a moonlit paddle one night.

- Sharks. Bit of a cliche but off he went. No newspaper article or news story escaped his attention and therefore ours, as Mountain Dad endeavoured to learn as much as he could about their whereabouts and attacks.

- Creepy Crawlies in general. There was the 'tick' on a relatives back, that was paraded before all guests and interested neighbours but turned out to be a small pimple.

- And there was the Christmas Beetle that clattered around our verandah lights and when thrown on Mountain Dad's lap, caused such a flurry of panic and flying arms that a neighbour called laconically from his deck, "nice dancing, mate."

Seems even the neighbours are getting in a chuckle at Mountain Dad's expense.