Kiss me I’m a Prince. Kiss me I’m a Prince. Kiss me I’m a Prince.
In my minds ear that’s what the frogs in the pond behind where I camped last night in Ravensthorpe were saying. Once I heard it couldn’t get it out of my head.
I woke to the most beautiful melodic song of warbling magpie. They reminded me of the Australian classical composer Peter Sculthorpe and his composition ‘Small Town’, where he incorporates Australian sounds into his music. As they say ‘do yourself a favour’ and give it a listen. Expat Aussies will tell you that the sound that most recalls home is that early morning Magpie song. Perhaps because they are so numerous we take them for granted, not so the mysterious mallee fowl.
I signs indicating mallee fowl are around were more prolific than the bird itself. Evidently mallee fowl build large mounds where they lay eggs, keeping them at a constant temperature which they regularly check with their tongue, along with a whole suite of other highly specialised adapted behaviour. Unfortunately they are endangered, the result of being absolutely delicious.
Rolling in great riding conditions out of Ravensthorpe, I was soon confronted with my first leviathan of the road. I promptly moved to the verge. I did this 19 times today, just getting the hell out if the way of theses monsters, who put the wind up me literally, like dinosaurs, more T rex carnivores than vegetarian brontosaurus.
It was only a short 85 kms today so I dawdled a little, stopping for lunch at the rather grand sounding Jerdacuttup Freight Depot, which in effect was a shed that provided shelter from the building wind. I imagine many a cyclist has camped out there waiting for the rain to pass. While riding along close to the verge you see the bones of many animals. Some are arranged in an almost artistic or sculptural way, as if the local shire might have employed an artist in residence to install their installations. But really they are just bones in situ.