Earlier this week the moon was so bright that I remarked to the editor that these were “Ned Kelly” nights. Ned Kelly, of course, was the notorious bush ranger who has achieved status as a cultural icon in Australia. Ned was eventually hanged by the authorities in 1880 at the young age of 25. Despite his lawless ways, Ned at the time (and also since then) had a great deal of public support as it was generally understood that he and his family faced very real difficulties as both people of Irish descent and land selectors (small land owners) at the hands of the authorities who generally favoured the wealthy and much larger land owners (squatters). And nights where the moon showed exceptional brightness were ripe for Ned and his band of bush ranger’s to traverse the countryside exacting revenge for the many real and supposed wrongs done to him and his family. The moon really was that bright earlier this week and the forest was full of moon shadows.

Outside of the well-lit Melbourne Central Business District, Australians generally don’t enjoy walking at night. Way back in the day before our rural adventures commenced, the editor and I lived in an inner suburb of Melbourne which was a mere four kilometres (2.5 miles) north of that city. It was a great area to live in as there was so much to see in and around that area. The old gas works site dating back from the days before the supply of electricity had been converted into a park. One of the local pubs was even named The Gasometer and I wonder now how many people would even realise the origins of that name?

At one stage an old steam locomotive sat alone and forlorn in the park. It sat on a very short section of what remained of the now disused and dismantled railway. There was even an old fenced off timber railway footbridge perched high in the air and missing many treads. Both were removed possibly because of public safety (i.e. liability) concerns and who knows what their eventual fate was?

As an interesting side note, the site adjacent to the old gas works had always been set aside as a large park. In the late 19^th century, the gardeners of that park laid walking paths and planted elms which have since grown into huge mature trees providing valuable shade over the long hot summers. At night those trees also provide habitat to the many marsupial possums that call the park home. The possums are only ever active at night and that is when a person can see and hear their activities whilst the possums get up to whatever mischief possums do. If you’ve ever had the pleasure of hearing a full-on possum fight, then you will know that the sounds that they make are truly blood curdling. And should the possum population ever be so unfortunate as to build up to unsustainable levels, then a canny Powerful Owl will leave the forests surrounding the city and take a short trip into those city parks and totally decimate the possum population before moving on again. At night, I’ve seen and heard those Powerful Owls at work in the city parks and all I can say is that they are a force to be reckoned with and possums (and possibly small Scritchy bosses) are nervous.

The housing in that surrounding area was constructed in the 19^th century to provide homes along the many tram lines and railways for the people that worked in the old gas works and other heavy industry surrounding that area (the granite quarry and shot tower are both still visible today). Walking around at night, the editor and I used to enjoy the eclectic range of old houses. Many of the larger and grander houses surrounding the park were clearly built to house the owners and managers of the gas works. And as you walked the streets further away from the park, there were smaller houses which had been constructed to house the families of the people who worked in that area.

All of this could be seen by simply walking around and looking and observing.

Nowadays, the editor and I still walk at night. However, instead of observing the hand of man, we see nature. Most of the animals in this corner of the planet are active at night. This may be a result of many thousands of years of selection by the Aboriginals or possibly because it is cooler at night during summer. Whatever the reason may be, night-time is the time to spot the many animals that live here on the farm.

On our walks, the marsupial bats fly around chasing insects whilst making a “zip, zip, zip” sound. Sugar gliders are impossible to spot but you can definitely hear them making "clicking" sounds high up in the tall trees. Possums in fight mode are simply blood curdling (just like their city cousins). Kangaroos usually quietly munch the grass but occasionally grunt loudly as they fight their rivals for a choice bit of green pick. Wallabies rip and tear chunks off our fruit trees. And the roar of an enraged – and possibly quite drunk on toxic leaves – bull Koala bear is awesome.

This week however, one of the wombats that live here has decided to regularly play a trick on the editor and I. This particular wombat hides in a clump of foliage and as we approach closely, without warning she suddenly growls and hisses and furiously shakes the foliage that she is hiding in. And then… Nothing. The wombat – after raising my blood pressure several notches – simply gives me this look which says: “You may admire me now”.

Certainly, she is a good looking wombat, but then other wombats at the farm – as well as most of the other animals – enjoy access to plenty of regular quality food and water all year round. They do cause a lot of damage, but they also convert a lot of that compost fed vegetation into manure, which in turn makes this farm more productive. Letting the animals roam freely through the gardens has a cost, but it also brings benefits.

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