Skip to main content

All wishes, whatever their apparent content, have the same and unvarying meaning: "I refuse to be what I am."


I will admit that this photograph of a platypus is not the best that you'll ever see, but when you're saddled with two cranky and loud toddlers, and faced with the challenge of photographing one of the most notoriously shy and seldom-seen furry creatures known to humans, I consider it a triumph!

What is more spectacular, we managed to glimpse three separate platypussies that morning! Such is the wonder of Fern Glade, just five minutes from the bustling city centre of the metropolis of Burnie.

Comments

Sue said…
I LOVE Fern Glade. The prettiest place to visit. And never left without spotting a platypus!
Hi! Kris,
Several greats going on here...
Great photograph it looks like a painting.
Great Quote...
...and it great that you were able to glimpse three separate platypus.

Thanks, for sharing!
DeeDee ;-D
Tom said…
don't see it, but pretty cool pic. The only platypus i've seen is the bronze one in our Australian Exhibit. Careful, I hear the males are poisoness!
Unknown said…
Wow... It took me a moment to realise what I was looking at... It is an amazing photo... I love the colours and the way it makes you stop and look... just... wow... kudos Kris!
Roddy said…
Tom, just a tip. Use the zoom to come in on the point of the ripple. The platypus is there.
Kris McCracken said…
Sue, there are more then ever before!
Kris McCracken said…
DeeDee, especially with whining toddlers in tow.
Kris McCracken said…
Tom, they wouldn't let you get near enough! The poisonous spur is in the rear leg, I think.
Kris McCracken said…
Uncertainhorizon, hang about and you'll see one, getting a photo is harder.

Popular posts from this blog

Hold me now, oh hold me now, until this hour has gone around. And I'm gone on the rising tide, to face Van Dieman's Land

Theme Thursday again, and this one is rather easy. I am Tasmanian, you see, and aside from being all around general geniuses - as I have amply described previously - we are also very familiar with the concept of WATER. Tasmania is the ONLY island state of an ISLAND continent. That means, we're surrounded by WATER. That should help explain why I take so many photographs of water . Tasmania was for a long time the place where the British (an island race terrified of water) sent their poor people most vile and horrid criminals. The sort of folk who would face the stark choice of a death sentence , or transportation to the other end of the world. Their catalogue of crimes is horrifying : stealing bread assault stealing gentlemen's handkerchiefs drunken assault being poor affray ladies being overly friendly with gentlemen for money hitting people having a drink and a laugh public drunkenness being Irish Fenian terrorist activities being Catholic religious subversion. ...

Something unpleasant is coming when men are anxious to tell the truth.

This is the moon. Have I mentioned how much I adore the zoom on my camera? It's Theme Thursday you see, and after last week's limp effort, I have been thinking about how I might redeem myself. Then I clicked on the topic and discover that it was BUTTON. We've been hearing a lot about the moon in the past couple of weeks. Apparently some fellas went up there and played golf and what-not forty-odd years ago. The desire to get to the moon, however, was not simply about enhancing opportunities for Meg and Mog titles and skirting local planning by-laws in the construction of new and innovative golf courses. No, all of your Sputniks , "One small steps" and freeze dried ice cream was about one thing , and one thing only : MAD Now, I don't mean mad in terms of "bloke breaks record for number of scorpions he can get up his bum", no I mean MAD as in Mutual assured destruction . When I was a young man you see, there was a lot of talk about the type of m...

Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it...

I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral...