FLOWERING RAINFOREST TREES

Of course all rainforest trees bear flowers. Many of them are too large for the home garden but some are just the right size and will reward you with beautiful flowers in season. It may take some years – up to seven – for the trees to bear their first flowers and fruit – but they are worth waiting for!

(NOTE: The trees on this page are well suited to growing in the warmer parts of the United States and other parts of the world where there is no ice, snow or heavy frost. If you need further advice, just email me or use the comments section below).

Beach Acronychia, Logan Apple (Acronychia imperforata)

This is a nice little bush tucker tree, growing to about 15 metres, very common in coastal areas north from Port Stephens in New South Wales.

Vital statistics

Flowers are a bit like apple blossom, born in creamy-white clusters throughout summer to the end of April, four-petalled and very attractive to bees and butterflies.

Leaves are simple, opposite and 1-foliate (bump/joint at the bottom where leaf joins petiole); stiff, very bright green, elliptic to ovate, up to about 12 cm long with a notch at the end.

Fruit is a pale yellow drupe, rounded to slightly pear-shaped. Tart but edible and very good for making jam and chutney, or cooked with sugar into a syrupy dressing over ice cream.

Bark is distinctive; smooth but with fine vertical cracks.

In the garden

This is a tough customer! It will grow almost anywhere but does best near the coast with sandy soils, tolerating long, dry periods as well as sea winds and salt spray. An excellent screening plant.

No need to fertilise, nor water once established. Prune lightly for good shape and desired height.

The similar North Queensland tree/shrub Acronychia acidula (Lemon Aspen) has creamy white, round, usually slightly ribbed fruit which is even tastier than A. imperforata.

Blueberry Ash – (Eleocarpus reticulatus)

Vital statistics

Flowers: Small, pink or white and fringed, like delicate little lampshades or ballerina skirts. The variety sold as “Prima Donna” in garden centres has pink flowers.

Leaves: Oblong or obovate, elliptical, up to about 12 cm long with strongly marked lateral veins. Domatia form small, reddish pockets in the vein angles, tough. 1-foliate, though the swollen joint where it joins the stem may not be prominent. As with all Eleocarpus the leaves turn an attractive red when they fall.

Fruit: An oval drupe, small, a bright blue that attracts birds.

In the garden

This plant occurs naturally in most types of rainforest and also adjoining wet sclerophyll (eucalypt) forest so will tolerate most conditions including light frost when established. Quite easy to propagate from seed.

Give it plenty of space from other trees/shrubs and once it gets to a couple of metres high start pruning the tips so it develops a good growth habit. This tree or large shrub grows very tall and straggly, like most rainforest species, if it is allowed to grow untrimmed or is planted too close to other trees. This may inhibit flowering when young but once it has reached maturity it will reward you with a spectacular burst of colour every spring.

FLAME TREE (Brachychiton acerifolius)

A familiar tree to Australians everywhere because it is one of the few of our rainforest trees to really make it big in the cultivated landscape. The name “Flame Tree” is also used for the African Tulip Tree (now a week in Queensland) but the only thing the two species have in common is red flowers. In winter to early spring this gorgeous tree warms and brightens our streets and gardens wherever it’s planted, while in the tropical and subtropical forest it stands out like…well…a flame among all the greenness of the canopy.

Vital statistics:

The large, simple, alternate leaves, margins lobed or entire are borne on long stems (petioles). They are shed in winter. Flowers can vary from vivid scarlet to a deeper red and are very showy,each one a little five-petalled bell borne in clusters. The seed pods are shaped like boats and can be used in floral decoraion. The yelowish seeds are edible. The bark is distinctive; smooth and lightish green with fawn-coloured roughish horizontal lesions and blotches.

In the garden

This tree is too large for most home gardens though it takes a long time to reach maturity and tends not to grow taller than about 20 metres when in full sun. Pruning when young will keep it under control and promote denser branch growth. It grows almost everywhere except snowy and very arid areas. Propagation is easy from seed or cutting and in warmer areas young plants often seed themselves and pop up in the landscape.

Lacebark is another rainforest species of Brachychiton and though not common in cultivation it is a better size for the home garden. The flowers are a velvety pink and very pretty. This tree needs plenty of careful pruning when young to stop it becoming straggly; if managed in this way it makes a delicious garden specimen. It tolerates up to three months without water, once established.

Brachychiton discolor seedling showing deeply lobed leaves.

NATIVE FRANGIPANNI (Hymenosporum flavum)

Oh what a delight this tree is when it reaches the age of full flowering, usually at about six years old. And every year after that it gets bigger and better – a shower of gold and creamy white cascading down from the top every spring.

Vital statistics

Small tree or large shrub that grows northwards from the Blue Mountain forests, in rainforest and close by open forest. Leaves are bright green, growing in whorls around the branchlet, obovate to a sharpish point, veins strongly marked, to about 16 cm in length. Fruit is a capsule containing brown two-winged seeds.

In the garden:

Very easy to propagate from seed. Tolerates all soils. Likes plenty of water when young. Does best in areas with good rainfall but can survive short droughts, up to 3 – 4 months. Young plants susceptible to frost.

This is a good tree for all but the smallest gardens but if space is limited keep to about three metres with trimming. Regular pinching out of new growth when young will form a neat, rounded shape.

This tree is about16 years old and was pruned when young to make it bushy.

This tree was pruned when young to make it bushy.

GOLDEN PENDA (Xanthostemon chrysanthus)

This golden treasure of a garden tree is well named – gold in colour, gold in overall size and appearance, gold in trouble-free growing. What’s not to like about this lovely North Queensland tree that grows anywhere that’s frost free and has good rainfall – or at least plenty of available water in dry seasons.

Vital statistics

Leaves are simple, alternate or whorled, long (to about 20 cm), thick and leathery, usually eliptic with a blunt point and yellowish mid-vein. Flowers are born prolifically in panicles of golden petals containing many long bright yellow stamens. Flowers may appear at any time but are most spectacular in summer to autumn. When the tree is not in flower it still looks good, with a naturally tidy habit and bright green leaves

In the garden

Very easy to grow in most conditions but does best with a reasonably loamy soil. It doesn’t need fertilising, just regular mulching with leaf litter or sugar cane. It makes a spectacular single specimen in full sun or light shade but like most rainforest plants it grows faster when it has a few companions around such as low growing shrubs. If you border it with annuals or other plants that require fertilising, be careful, because this is another plant in the Proteaceae family that can’t take too much high-phosphorus fertiliser. It’s best to give your flowering annuals light sprays of liquid formulation that doesn’t seep to deep into the surrounding soil.

IVORY CURL (Buckinghamia celsissima)

This north Queensland rainforest beauty can be grown as either a tree or a shrub. In the forest it stretch to 30 metres but when it is grown as a single specimen out in the open where it doesn’t have to compete with other trees the Ivory Curl will multi-stem and grow to the height of a tall shrub or tree to about eight metres. It’s a very popular street tree in Queensland and northern New South Wales but is also comfortable in Melbourne gardens.

Vital statisics

Leaves are long (to 20 cm), simple, young plants with lobes but margins entire in mature plants with a strongly marked mid-vein. Flowers are typical of the Proteaceae; creamy white, in pendant clusters, each long raceme made up of tiny flowers. These appear for a long time during autumn-winter and the tree can be so thickly covered that from a distance it looks like snow! Seed pods are green and clustered along the stem after the flowers have gone, turning first a greyish-buff colour and then a dull black. They have a little tendril-like appendage at the tip and are very attractive when dried.

In the garden

Ivory Curl will tolerate the worst clay and rocky soils though growth is faster in richer, loamier ground. There is no need to feed when young but if you wish to give your seedling a boost, make sure to use a native plant formula because plants in the family Proteaceae are sensitive to phosphorus overdose, having evolved on soils deficient in this nutrient. Water regularly when young; as the plant matures it can tolerate long periods without rain. Prune for a neat, rounded shape.

This really is one of the best and toughest and prettiest small trees for the home garden. Plant them in a row and you’ve got a spectacular hedge.

Lemon Myrtle (Backhousia citriodora)

This is a MUST for any home garden. It’s a small tree that can be encouraged to multi-stem and remain at shrub height, the flowers are pretty and bright green leaves are lemon-scented and flavoured – in my opinion it’s the best source of lemon flavour to use in cooking apart from lemons themselves. A lot more palatable than, for example, lemon grass.

If I could choose only one rainforest tree/shrub for my garden, this would be it!

Vital statsitics

Leaves are simple, opposite, light green, narrowly elliptic to a drawn-out point, margins can be lightly toothed, oil dots typical of rainforest plant leaves in the Myrtaceae family (myrtles) and give out a strong lemony smell when crushed. Flowers are creamy white and fluffy. The fruit has a flower-like appearance because of the five sepals arranged around the central capsule.

In the garden

Lemon myrtle is a tough performer in all climates except the coldest and driest. It tolerates any soil but grows faster and with brighter, lusher foliage in moderately deep, loamy soils. Water regularly when young, mulch with sugar cane or any vegetative matter at least once a year in spring, feed with any general tree/shrub fertiliser. Prune early and regularly to limit height and encourage bushiness.

This is a hard plant to propagate from seed; cuttings will take but very slowly. Leaves can be harvested for cooking when needed, or dried and kept bagged. Both fresh and dry leaves make a fragrant tea.

In the home

Lemon myrtle leaves can be used in the kitchen whenever you want a lemon flavour. The leaves are especially useful in infusing dishes made with either milk or cream as they don’t cause curdling. They can also be used in pickles and chutneys.

And there is one more thing about this marvellous plant – the essential oils in the leaves have disinfectant and biocidal properties. When distilled they are used a great deal in homeopathic medicine and also in mainstream products for treatment of minor skin problems and household cleaning. Using the leaves as an infusion in hot water MAY help with intestinal parasites and maintain good health in the digestive and urinary tract. There is no hard scientific evidence of this but it won’t do you any harm! I have a friend who for years has drunk infusions of leaves (fresh and dried) three times a day for years and claims she owes her excellent health and digestion to this. I often drink lemon myrtle “tea”, from my own tree, and chill infusions to make a lightly-flavoured, slightly astringent lemonade, with whole leaves and lemon slices floating in it. This infusion can also be frozen into ice blocks.

Grey myrtle, Carroll (Backhousia myrtifolia)

The Grey Myrtle doesn’t possess the lovely lemony qualities of its better known Lemon Myrtle cousin but it is still an attractive shrub with a light, spicy-sweet aroma. It looks very similar, though the leaves tend to be shorter and more ovate with more tapered tips. It’s a small enough tree for any garden if trimmed to an appropriate height. The leaves can be used in cooking, in the same way that you would use nutmeg or cinnamon.

Tree Waratah (Alloxylon flammeum)

Now here’s a showy spring-flowering tree for the larger home garden, which is quite easy to grow in warmer, wetter areas. It doesn’t usually flower until it’s about ten years old but when it does the big, red blooms are worth the weight.

Vital statistics

The leaves are handsome: large, shiny, simple, alternate and often lobed when mature. Flowers are rather like those of grevillea species, large and clustered, bright orange-red with long, tubular perianths arranged in a corymb. The seed pods are interesting too, long and rectangular containing flattish, winged seeds. These pods can be dried and used in floral arrangements.

In the garden

Not a tree for small gardens but a lovely as a specimen tree or in a cluster of other trees and shrubs. It’s frost-tender when young and needs plenty of water at this early stage. Some light feeding with a low phosphorous native plant fertiliser for strong growth will help too though is not essential except in very poor soils. Trim new growth regularly to stop the young tree becoming straggly.

Propagate from seed or hard wood cuttings (slow!).

The Dorrigo Waratah (Alloxylon pinnatum) has proved difficult to propagate past the seedling stage but if you can find one in a native plant nursery it’s worth growing. For one thing, it’s not as tall as its more flamboyant cousin. The flowers tend to be less prolific but are an attractive pinkish red and look great in a vase.

Golden myrtle (Thaleropia, formerly Metrosideros queenslandica)

Thaleropia is a lovely tree from the mountain forests of far north Queensland and it doesn’t grow very large, 10 metres at most, making it suitable for the home garden.

Vital statistics: The glossy green simple leaves are slightly serrated with a prominent mid vein. They are born close to the stem and have typically pointed rainforest species “drip tips” at the apex. The bright golden flowers are five-petalled and slightly cupped from the centre, with long and prominent stamens.

In the garden: Thaleropia will do well in any warm climate garden and, once established, needs very little care. It can be pruned every autumn to control height and promote bushiness, if desired. Regular watering is required in dry periods – just a good soaking with the hose once a week will do.

The real Anna?

I based the early part of Lyrebird Mountain, and the character of Anna, on the lives of Australian naturalist-photographer Hilda Geissmann and her family.

The Geissmanns did indeed come to Tamborine Mountain, south of Brisbane, in the 1890s and established a famous guesthouse there, Capo di Monte, the name of which is perpetuated today in a building, a retirement community and two streets.

I wrote a short biography of Hilda, published in 2023, and put the research material gathered during the creation of that book to good use in the early chapters of Lyrebird Mountain

Capo di Monte, like The Excelsior, was an instant success that lasted several years and did indeed attract visitors from all over Australia and the wider world – artists, writers, naturalists, scientists, theatre folk, politicians, graziers and wealthy merchants, minor royalty and the governors who represented the British Crown.

The Geissmann children served these luminaries, learned from them and, in the case of Hilda and her brother Barney, acted as guides through the rainforest that they knew so well. 

Hilda, like Anna, loved the forest and always felt at home there.  She learned to be an excellent ornithologist, orchidist and all-round naturalist, her photographs and articles appearing in many newspapers, magazines and learned journals. 

The character of Berthe almost exactly corresponds with what we know of Elfriede Geissmann, whose second name was Berthe, and her physical description matches the photos of Elfriede I have in my possession.  Her husband, William Felix, did indeed run off unexpectedly to Paraguay, never to be seen again or heard of by his family. The scene that takes place in the Brisbane Botanical Gardens, during World War 1, when his effects are handed over to his abandoned wife by a mysterious German woman, is exactly what happened in real life.  And though “Madame Kurcher” is a character of my creation, the Geissmanns did become very involved in Theosophy and Hilda herself, as well as her siblings, was influenced by it all her life.

Once I have got Anna through her childhood, so like Hilda’s, my book takes flight and the Geissmanns are relegated to true history.  Anna’s story and that of her brothers and sisters bears little resemblance to that of Hilda and her family, though facts do intrude here and there.  For example, the guesthouse did burn down (though two years after the date in Lyrebird Mountain) and though one of the Geissmann brothers went to the 1914-18 war he returned only slightly wounded.  Hilda and her sister Elsie married local farmers but they were cousins, not brothers, and though Hilda’s husband, Herbert Curtis, was wounded and did indeed convalesce in the English Lake District, and their house was named Windermere, he was a kind and good husband (or so I’ve been told by those who remember him) and Elsie’s husband, Willie, was certainly not a money-hungry philanderer. 

I doubt very much Hilda ever had a love affair like Anna’s but her long friendship with the naturalist/journalist Alec Chisholm, very much her mentor, was reimagined by me into the friendship between Anna and Arnold Clemens.  Chisholm, however, did not end his days on the mountain.  His death was terrible to Hilda and she paid a moving tribute to him in a speech she gave to the Queensland Naturalists’ Club in 1976.

Again, Hilda’s lifelong closeness to her sister Elsie is mirrored in Anna’s with her sister Liza who lives close by to her on Lyrebird Mountain. Elsie was very musical – taught music in fact – just like Liza and there is some hint in my research material that she gave up a potential concert career to come home and help her mother run the guesthouse.  I doubt, though, that Elsie was a lesbian or even knew what one was!  She and Hilda grew cut flowers commercially, just like my Anna and her sister and were each other’s confidantes in all matters. 

The character of Freddy does draw somewhat on that of Hilda’s best-known brother, Barney.  Barney’s memoirs show him to be a charmer with a fine turn of phrase and a great sense of humour – and indeed, when the family first went to the mountain, he was for some poorly-explained reason left at the bottom overnight and had to find his own way up the next day.  Imagine that, for a twelve year old town boy!  And there was no part-aboriginal guide, either.  Barney Geissmann was always a resourceful man who could turn his hand to most things.  He is still remembered on the mountain today though, like his briefly famous sister Hilda, there are very few left who actually knew him. And they themselves are now old.   

The character of Deirdre Bell is very loosely modelled on a sort of composite of the artists Daphne Mayo and Vida Lahey, both good friends of Hilda’s (especially Daphne) and both connected with Tamborine Mountain.  In her, I have tried to convey some of the New Woman, often deliberately naughty and outrageous of prevailing morals, that appeared in Brisbane’s tiny, self-consciously kultured art community of pre-World War 1 Brisbane.  A stuffy little city in a huge, barely populated state dominated by the competing values of graziers and blue-singlet unionised labour.  Neither of them particularly sympathetic to the arts.   Daphne and Vida were not really like Deirdre in character but their independence was unusual for the time and research shows there are some similarities

Arnold Clemens, in Lyrebird Mountain, is very obviously based on the writer/journalist/naturalist Alec Chisholm who is now almost forgotten in Australia, except by dedicated older naturalists.  He was a self-educated prodigy with a childhood love of nature that became his life’s passion.  He befriended and mentored Hilda early in the twentieth century and their friendship lasted until his death, despite the fact that both could be sharp-tongued and outspoken.  Chisholm, in fact, could be downright cranky!  And you see a touch of that in Arnold!

After I had published Hilligei, Hilda’s biography, I realised that aspects of her life would make the basis of a novel; in Anna I found the Hilda that my imagination had wanted her to be – more successful, more interesting, more desirable to men.  I have set a mystery in the heart of Lyrebird Mountain – the death of Jack Resnik – and there was a mystery at the heart of Hilda’s life, too.  Which was that, having achieved modest fame and recognition from the natural science world over a decade or so, she just packed it in.  Her name no longer appeared in journals and she stopped taking photographs.  Her correspondence with leading naturalists of the day dwindled.  She remained a lifelong member of the Queensland Naturalists Club and continued to host and help organise club expeditions to Tamborine Mountain but the Hilda whose knowledge of birds and plants was so respected, who could find the elusive Albert’s Lyrebird nest and photograph it when nobody else could, who wrote articles about her interests that were full of charm and refreshingly non-stuffy, took early retirement.  She lived to be almost one hundred, as a farmer’s wife, flower grower and pillar of her community.  But by the time she was in her forties, these mundane activities had become her lot.

And as far as I know, she was quite happy with it.  When I started my research for Hilligei I interviewed several people who had known her, both family and friends.  They all remembered her as a nice old lady. But none of them had more than a vague awareness of her youthful fame and contribution to Australia’s natural science.  Sic transit gloria and all that. The captains and the kings depart. 

And I like to think that a little of Hilda Geissmann lives on in the Anna of Lyrebird Mountain.

What Lyrebird Mountain is – and is not

Well, it’s not a murder mystery.  Though there is a mystery at the heart of the book and that mystery may – or may not – be the result of a murder. 

It’s not a romance novel. Though there is romance woven through the story, not just of the kind between humans but the romance of natural things; the romance that’s around us everywhere, every day, if we only learn to look for it.

It’s not a crime novel.  Most of us go through our lives, thank the Powers, without being directly affected by crime, though we know it is out there and that we must try to avoid it. A crime may have been committed in Lyrebird Mountain – a terrible crime.  And if it was, who dunnit? 

It’s not a historical novel although the history of Queensland, Australia and the wider world is recorded through events that affect the characters in the book – over more than a century.

It’s not a family saga – in the usual sense of the word.  It is essentially the story of one woman’s life but her story carries the reader through six generations of women with whom her life is linked, from mother to daughter.

It’s not women’s fiction even though the main character is a woman and the story looks at life through a woman’s eyes.  I don’t pretend to know the hearts of men; I can only experience them from the outside. But there is other stuff in Lyrebird Mountain besides the affairs of women…war gets a mention and politics and historical events and…yes…even cricket.

An author is by trade and inclination an observer of life and my observation is that novels rarely tell about life as it is.  Of course they don’t; the job of the novelist is to shock, excite, thrill, entrance, intrigue, move you to laughter or tears.  It’s entertainment, baby, not real life.

And yet, I have learned more in my life from novels than I ever learned from a non-fiction book. 

So Lyrebird Mountain is not a genre novel.  I did not want my characters to be larger than life, I wanted them to be the kind of people we encounter in our own lives.  Life is not well-organised like fiction and people do not always have clear motives.  Nor behave logically. Situations go unresolved, mysteries remain unsolved.  It’s not neat, it’s not tidy, it’s LIFE.

So when people ask me what Lyrebird Mountain is about, I find it hard to answer.  I say it is about love and loss, strength and resilience in the face of misfortune, the power of passion and the even greater power of place.  It’s about the relationship between grandmothers and granddaughters and the cruel impact of war.  And it’s all set against the historical evolution of a still-young nation finding its place in a sometimes terrifying world.  (Yes, yes, I knew it’s an old continent with an older set of inhabitants but I’m talking about nationhood.)

I have often relied on allusion to tell my tale, rather than spelling it all out.  As much as possible I have tried to treat cliches like potholes in the road – to be avoided. I don’t insult my readers by telling them the bleedingly bloody obvious!  I prefer to let them work it out for themselves.  Those who can’t are welcome to discuss it here on my blog.

There is, for example, a constant allusion to the mystery of the rainforest, especially higher-altitude forest like that of Lyrebird  Mountain, where mist throws a gauze over the trees and clouds of vapour float up the gullies.  I have always found rainforests of any kind – from the mighty Tongass of Alaska to the jungles of Africa – to be mysterious places.  Spirits lurk there, ancient as the trees, though spirits of what I am never sure.  Like Anna, I sense them, I feel them around me. Whispering.  The life of the rainforest, whether in the canopy or on the littered floor, is secretive.  If you listen, there is always a scuffling or a rustling or the cries of birds that often have a wailing eeriness to them.  As if song or cackle belongs only to sunlight. 

Such mystery, such hints of a magic powerful but unseen, can affect people in strange ways.  Men have gone mad in rainforests; especially those who have gone there to cut timber and found themselves alone among the tree shadows, their axes suddenly falling from their hands.  Women, in my experience, have a better understanding that keeps them safer; visiting as they do mostly to seek and examine plants and birds, doing no harm. 

In many ways Lyrebird Mountain is an old-fashioned book.  Deliberately so. I’ve gone against the contemporary trend to recast history through modern eyes and ears, in film, in television in books. Where characters speak and act as they do today and not as they did then. For I have lived  through much of the timespan of Lyrebird Mountain and know, too, how my parents and grandparents spoke and behaved.  And those of earlier generations.  And there are, quite simply, things they didn’t do or say because of the prevailing standards of behaviour.  Some bold few might have said and done things that broke the code.  But most people didn’t.  And those are the people I’m writing about. People who set a high price on reticence, restraint, fortitude, good manners and self-control.  And who understood the difference between compassion and sentimentality. This is how they coped with the tough stuff.  Looking back, it seems amazing to me that they could be happy in a world where even the rich did not have the comforts, conveniences, services, safety measures, medical treatments, social support and readily-accessible entertainment that we take for granted.

But, by and large, they were.  Like Anna and her family, they bore it all and carried on.

This is not, I know, the stuff of great drama.  But I wanted to write something real. For the kind of readers who like it that way. 

I hope I succeeded.

BIRDS OF THE RAINFOREST

This page is very much a work in progress. I have spent many decades watching birds in my local subtropical rainforest and on this page you’ll meet some of my favourites. I hope to expand the page so that rainforest bird lovers from around the world can post their pictures and descriptions here.

Bird list so far:

King Parrot

Regent Bowerbird

Satin Bowerbird

Wonga Pigeon

Noisy Pitta

Pale Yellow Robin

Sooty Owl

Lewin’s Honeyeater

Bassian Thrush

More birds to come…

All over the world, jungles or rainforests have always been home to some of our rarest, most colourful and least known bird species.

Ever since Long John Silver and other pirates took to walking around with parrots on their shoulders, we’ve coveted those brilliant and talkative birds, to the point where some species have been driven to extinction in the wild. Parrots, which are not of course limited to jungles (think Australian Budgerigar, think New Zealand Kea) are the poster species for those deep, mysterious places where the trees grow tall and the vines grow thick and the constant heat and moisture fosters rampant vegetative growth. Where the shadowed forest floor conceals furtive creatures and serpents can grow to monstrous size. Where insects buzz and seek blood or scuttle in the litter.

Birds are the true beauties of such an environment and some of the most interesting can be found in the rainforests of Australia, east of the Great Dividing Range.

King Parrot (Alisterus scapularis)

The sweet whistle and chatter of the King Parrot rings out across the rainforest, and the adjacent wet sclerophyll woodland, and you’ll look up to see a flash or red and green as they alight nearby, usually in pairs but sometimes in small flocks.

This bird is as friendly as it is beautiful, with a gentle face and nature that makes it more lovable than many other parrots, which can be rather beady-eyed and spiteful.

The male has a red head, breast and belly with vivid green wings, banded at the top with turquoise, vivid blue feathers on the rump area above the blue-green tail. As is often the case with parrots, the female is a little more muted with greenish head, yellowy-green breast and crimson from breast to belly.

King parrots are sedentary but after breeding in the denser forests and mountains near the coast they wander further afield into drier lowland areas.

Call is a high-pitched one note whistle (males) usually accompanied by harsher chattering sounds when flying. Alarm call is more of a metallic screech, like “aaark”.

Breeding is from about September through to midsummer, and the birds nest high up in deep eucalypt hollows. Some of these holes go right down inside the trunk so the young chicks are pretty secure from predators. The nest is a layer of wood chips chewed or naturally decayed to a soft consistency. The female broods the eggs (usually 4 – 6, lustrous white), for three weeks while the male fetches food for her. When the chicks hatch they are fed by both parents for about five weeks until they are able to look after themselves, though they usually stay with the parents until it’s time for them to mate.

King Parrots have a varied diet of seeds, flower buds nuts, fruit and insects. They are frequent visitors to my garden and, though I do not feed wild birds, are tame enough to come and sit on my veranda chairs and look at me hopefully.

Regent Bowerbird (Sericulus chrysocephalus)

Few rainforest birds are as striking as he Regent Bowerbird, pictured here. This bird is slimmer than most bowerbirds, and while the female, poor thing, is rather a drab the slightly smaller male is a masterwork of black and golden yellow. He is yellow from bill and eye to neck to mantle and then again on the primary and secondary wing feathers. The rest is a dense jet black. On the forehead is a tiny tuft or patch of a bright, sub-irridescent sunrise orange-yellow quite impossible to describe and not seen in any painter’s palette.

Females are dull brown on the back with a few arrowhead-shaped pale spots on the shoulders, a black neckband, crown patch and darker-feathered cheek line. Bill is dull brown too. Breast and belly are off-white, with scalloping on the breast and fain dark wavy lines on belly. Juveniles are like females but without the black neckband and facial markings.

The Regent Bowerbird is a shy, retiring type who, like its nest and bower, is rarely seen. When you do see the male, it’s because of the yellow flash as he dives for cover. The bower is a modest two-sided affair, slightly less “finished” in appearance than its cousin the Satin Bowerbird. He decorates it modestly too, with a few pale petals and sail shells and sometimes blue artifacts placed carefully inside the bower. Rather than depending on this collection to attract his temporary mate the splendid Regent courts her up in the nearby trees and shows her the way to the bower of seduction where, once the deed is done, he goes looking for another. And she goes off to build a nest, lay a couple of eggs and raise the chicks.

The nest is very hard to find, usually (but not invariably) high in thick leaves and branches of tree or thick vine, shallow and made from thin sticks and twigs. Eggs are a delicate greenish or greyish white with darker streaks and blotches. Breeding season is October to January-February, before the usual onset of the subtropical wet season.

The Regent Bowerbird occurs mostly in the coastal and montane rainforests and adjacent wet sclerophyllof northern New South Wales and Southern Queensland, plus Eungella inland from Mackay and some isolated coastal rainforest north of Bundaberg.

The Regent BB is not much of a vocalist: the male communicates alarm calls and warnings to other males (and possibly come-ons to females) with typical harsh, raspy bowerbird calls. Those with keen ears may hear him apparently serenading the females with long, soft, meditative songs that mimic other birds. The female is usually silent.

Food is mostly fruit, with the native tamarind (Diploglottis australis) being a favourite.

Nest is a shallow saucer of long, thin sticks, less robust than that of Satin Bowerbird. Usually well above ground and in thick vines or tree foliage. Eggs: usually 2, Creamy white with faint tinge of grey or green, “painted” with wavy lines and spots and blotches and scribbles, dark brownish, olive and tinges of pale mauve.

Satin Bowerbird (Ptilonorhynchus violaceus)

The Satin Bowerbid is familiar to most people who live on the east coast of Australia from the forests of south eastern Victoria to southern Queensland. This is a handsome, confident bird which boldly sets up bowers in parks and home gardens just as easily as it does in the forest, braving domestic pets, lawn mowers, people and cars to pursue its construction goals.

In fact I know a male Satin Bowerbird who has, for some years, persistently built and rebuilt his bower within ten metres of a house wall on one side and a busy barbecue/entertainment area on the other, right by a path and close to a well-maintained lawn. He prudently hops out of the way when people pass, or flies to a low nearby branch but is quite happy to hop around if you come with an offering of bright blue objects such as clothes pegs or Evolvulus flowers. (NOT ringed bottle tops!).

Male Satin Bowerbirds are chunky and smoothly rounded and always look rather pleased with themselves. They are a rich black all over, with an iridescent bluish sheen and lovely violet eyes. Beak is white. Females are greenish all over with dull brown wings and creamy buff breasts and bellies with a definite but sometimes hard to see greenish band around the chest. Beak is dark grey, appearing black in the field. Juvenile birds are similar but lack the breast band and have brownish foreheads.

The nest is shallow and made of small twigs and dry leaves, well-hidden in upright tree forks in outer foliage of treees, or in clumps of twigs or mistletoe. Casuarina trees are specially favoured. Eggs: 1 – 3. Dark cream or brownish cream with blotches, spots, streaks and wavy lines in dull brown or brownish green or pale mauve.

Wonga Pigeon (Leucosarcia melanoleuca)

These big, plump pigeons can drive people mad! True! In the summer when the males are calling their long, monotonous, medium-pitched call, repeated over and over, causes some folk to shut their windows, curse, and wish for a shotgun! And indeed, in days of yore, they were commonly shot for food though as they are usually solitary birds a single Wonga, however juicy of breast, wouldn’t provide much of a feed/

Wongas are usually found on the edges of rainforests (and inhabit wet schlerophyll forests too) where they can be seen waddling along peacefully, head down, pecking. They are dark grey on the head and back with a grey neck and chest dramatically decorate3d by a long, vee shaped collar. The underparts are white with many markings that from a distance look like spots but are in fact little “u” shaped patches.

Seeds, fruits and berries are their food and they forage for them on the ground rather than in trees and bushes.

They are true love birds, mating for life. The next is quite a large flat arrangement of twigs, on a tree limb or in a fork, very simple and without embellishment. Eggs: 2. White.

Noisy Pitta (Pitta versicolor)

(Photo courtesy of Geoff Eller)

The Noisy Pitta really isn’t all that noisy and in fact is no noisier than any other pitta but its distinctive “Walk to Work” whistle rings through the forest when it is breeding time and the males are proclaiming their territorial boundaries. This is a splendid bird to see as it hops along the rainforest path, poking into the tree litter for grubs. It will also eat small fruits and lizards and is particularly partial to snails, which it cracks open on rocks with workmanlike skill.

This is a truly beautiful bird of brilliant colour with its chestnut cap, black face and throat, vivid green and blue wings, buffy yellow-to-apricot breast and bright orange to scarlet vent.

Though the Pitta is quick to flee at the sight of a human it doesn’t go far on its stubby wings and if you stay still and quiet you will see it alight not too far away, watchful but happy to continue with its eternal search for food. The strong, longish bill is a useful tool for poking and prodding bark and tree roots.

There are two other types of Pitta found in Australia; the rare Red-bellied Pitta, much sought after by birdwatchers, is found in the far north of Cape York and the Rainbow Pitta is limited to the top end from Darwin across to the Kimberley. All have similar habits.

The Noisy Pitta is the most common, ranging from North Queensland down the east coast to south of Sydney. It’s a true rainforest bird but sometimes strays into adjacent wet sclerophyll forest or drier scrub.

Breeding season is shorter in the north of its range, from late spring through February; further south it starts in July. The number of eggs is usually four but can be half that, or as many as five when breeding conditions are good in the south. The southern eggs tend to be larger, too, than those of northern birds. Strange, because the northern rainforests offer better food and the heavier rainfall that brings out the big forest snails.

Nests, built by both sexes, are usually on or very near the ground at the base of roots, rocks or tree stumps. They are made, rather nicely, from locally available materials such as bark, twigs, plant fibres and moss, with feathers woven in for insulation and lined with soft material such as grass and lichen, bound with animal dung. Some birds make a little ramp at the entrance, from sticks and mud or dung. A spacious yet snug “home” is obviously important to parent Pittas who raise their brood together during the height of the wet season.

Pittas that inhabit and breed in montane areas usually migrate to lower, warmer ground in winter. In some areas numbers are believed to be decreasing due to human encroachment and disturbance.

Pale Yellow Robin (Tregellasia capito)

This shy little bird is a true denizen of the deep rainforest (though sometimes found in adjacent woodland) and is very easy to overlook as it flits quietly from tree to tree, often perching sideways on a vertical sapling to check you out. It’s certainly a lot less bold than the better-known Eastern Yellow Robin and in fact the two are not closely related.

The Pale Yellow Robin has a drab greyish green back with a white throat to just above the short, sturdy bill. The belly is pale yellow down to the vent and the legs are an inconspicuous buff. The head is quite large compared to the body; tail is short and squared at the end. The alarm call is a sharpish repeated chah and its other call is a quick, sharp whistle of three to four notes, sometimes more and best heard at dawn. Though a quiet bird, in the mating season the call rings out and may be followed by soft little tweets exchanged between the mated pair.

Range is limited to the forests of the coastal fringe from south east Queensland to norther eastern New South Wales; there is also a population in far north Queensland and, as often is the case, these northern birds are smaller.

This bird stays in the lower shrub layer of the forest and from its perch it can pounce on the small beetles and grubs that make up its diet, pecking at them with its strong little beak.

It nests in the forks of saplings or, more commonly, in the thick, well-protected cover of lawyer vine (Calamus muelleri), using leaves from the vine and other plant debris, including lichen, to build the little cup-shaped nest. It breeds once or twice in the July to December season, producing two pale green eggs with brownish markings.

Human encroachment on its habitat is reducing the numbers of the Pale Yellow Robin.

Sooty Owl

This is one of the most dramatic owls in looks and behaviour. It’s the third largest Australian member of the family though a fully mature female Sooty is close in size to her counterpart the Rufous Owl, found much further north.

The rainforest is not the prime habitat of this big owl; it prefers wet schleropyll coastal forests from south east Queensland to southern Victoria but where rainforest is adjacent it will hunt there, it’s long, descending, harsh whistle sounding like a falling bomb, often startling unsuspecting campers and forest dwellers on hot summer nights.

This is an owl more often heard than seen by humans as it is both stealthy and highly secretive. It’s darkish grey colouring conceals it well among the shadows and the big, mournful eyes set in a wide, pale, heart-shaped face can only easily be detected by torchlight, when they give off a ruby red shine that’s diagnostic.

The grey (with hints of russet) plumage is speckled with small white spots which give the bird a sparkling appearance when looked at by torchlight. The grey breast is also spotted with white. The pale facial disc is rimmed with darker feathers, the legs are thickly feathered like white leggings and the talons are massive, capable of seizing prey up to the size of a rabbit. Rabbits, small gliders and rodents are this bird’s main prey.

The secretive Sooty Owl likes to roost in deep tree hollows and trees that have become hollowed out from the inside. Here it also nests, as well as in caves. Breeding is usually March- June and again in spring. Eggs are large and white, usually two but only one chick survives to fledge – though two surviving chicks have been reported, at least in captivity. They don’t leave the nest until at least six months old.

There is a Lesser Sooty Owl in far north Queensland which is similar in most respects, though smaller and the sexes closer in size.

I used to do a regular walk where the track went right through an old, hollowed out Argyrodendron tree. A few metres up in this tree lived a lone Sooty Owl, or at least I never saw another owl with her. Every time anyone walked under the tree she would scream! Louidly! In fact it was quite fun to sit quietly nearby and watch the shock on the faces of hikers as they triggered this ghostly shriek! Sometimes I’d sit there at dusk and wait for her to emerge and you had to look hard because she would emerge like a silent dark shadow, wingbeats barely audible unless you were listening for them. And then she’d be away through the darkening trunks of the Bunya Pines, off to hunt. I’ve also listened to the Sooty Owls in my nearby forest at night and when their calls give them away I can sometimes catch them in the spotlight, sitting on a branch. It’s the red eyeshine that gives them away.

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Lewin’s Honeyeater (Meliphaga lewinii)

This bright, energetic small honeyeater can often be seen darting out from flower to flower in search of nectar, often hanging upside down from blossoms and dabbing at them with its curved black bill. It’s quite aggressive and the males will see off competitors in the breeding season (early spring to midsummer) or else engage in lively chases with females – for the casual observer it’s hard to tell the difference!

The call is unmistakable, a piercing staccato, frequently uttered and because this is a common bird in its habitat, the rainforests of the east coast from north Queensland to Victoria, any birding trip in those areas will yield several pairs of Lewin’s Honeyeaters in close proximity.

Sexes are similar, with olive, grey-green backs, greyish buff on the breast, more richly olive on the wings. Feathers around the eye are dark and the most conspicuous feature is the pale-yellow ear patch and creamy white line (gape) along the bill to the eye. Two north Queensland species, the Graceful and Yellow-spotted Honeyeaters, are very similar but smaller, with smaller ear patches and different calls.

The nest is a strongly built cup made from leaves, moss and bark strips, lined with down from the parents’ ‘breasts and woven with spiders’ webs. It is cunningly secured by the rim on one side to a thin branch, hidden among thick foliage. Eggs are two, sometimes three, creamy white with brown blotches at the fat end.

Though a common bird of rainforest, the Lewin’s Honeyeater is also found in wet eucalpyt forest and sometimes in adjacent lighter woodland.

Bassian Thrush

The Bassian Thrush (Zoothera lunulata) has a very large range – and yet it’s rarely seen and almost unknown to all except those birdwatchers who spend their time looking for it in the forests of Eastern Australia.

This is because it’s colouring is the typical brown-beige-olive of birds who spend their lives grubbing about in the rich litter on the forest floor. What’s more, it’s a remarkably self-effacing bird that seems perfectly content with its own company. It needs to keep quiet in order to listen for insects scuttling among the leaves and its own call.

In colour it resembles the feral Song Thrush though its undermarkings are a much stronger pattern of black and white rather than the dark-on-buff streaks of the latter. Its bill is much stronger and longer, too. They are both in the same overall family, the Turdidae, but apart from appearance their habitats are very different.

The Bassian Thrush inhabits the denser forests – rainforest and wet sclerophyll – of the eastern coast and mountains, from southern Queensland round to western Victoria and the Mt Lofty and southern Flinders Ranges in South Australia. It is also found in north Queensland. There has been a good deal of argument as to whether there are several races or even different species of this bird, known commonly as Olive or Russet or White-tailed. Different bird books will tell a different tale and the common name in former years was “White’s Thrush”! To my mind, they are all one species for general birdwatching purposes, with any perceptible differences reflecting differing habitats, individual feather patterns and even song.

The song is rather like that of a feral Song Thrush but truncated to a few strong notes, heard usually only at dawn or on heavily overcast days. In my experience it varies quite a bit from bird to bird.

Not much is known of its habits. Breeding is mid-to-late winter (depending on area, earlier in the north) and lasts until midsummer – or a bit later. The nest is a rather clumsily-assembled moss-covered open bowl of dried grass, leaves, bark flakes and other such matter. Eggs are a pretty pale green or bluish green with red-brown blotches, usually 2 – 3. Both parents contribute to nest-building and raising the chicks. Once this is over, the adults appear to go their separate ways.

You normally find them on a rainforest path where they forage among the litter, occasionally giving a little hop like an introduced thrush. When humans approach, they usually run a little way and either stand motionless, relying on camouflage to conceal themselves, or disappear into the surrounding cover.

Continuous clearing of forest means they are inevitably threatened and because they are so little seen, or understood, their numbers are unknown. That’s the problem with such shy birds – they can cease to exist as a species before anybody realises it! Let’s hope that doesn’t happen with our only true native thrush!

The allure of the Tongass

Bears!  That’s what the Tongass National Forest has in abundance.  Blacks and grizzlies. Along with wolves, deer, mountain goats, ermine and a plethora (I love that word!) of marine life in the fjords and seas that abut this 16.7 acre (6.7 million hectare – really, I love the Americans but they ARE backward in some things!) national forest.  The largest in the United States. 

Bears lured me there this June – I’m a bear tragic! – but also the chance to spend time in a temperate rainforest when much of my working life has been spent in the rainforests of the subtropics and tropics. 

I love the Tongass.  Others say they find it forbidding, even sinister, and I can see that.  All those dark cedars and hemlocks and spruces lowering over the groundscape of root and moss and fern.  Like the great forests of pre-industrial Europe there could be witches lurking here, and goblins and worse.  Stories are told by the indigenous Tlingit of Goo-Teekhl the Salmon Thief who sometimes attacks humans. Or did, until humans defeated him.  But then he got his revenge – by bringing upon them the mosquito.

I am not too worried by monsters and mosquitoes don’t seem too numerous in the deep forest, only by the water and in the open country.  And they are only bad in the short summer.  The rest of the time the forest is covered in snow.  Mozzies are found in MY forests too, the magical rainforests of southern Queensland and northern New South Wales and we, too, have our legends. 

What we don’t have is bears. Or otters.  Or indeed predators of any mammal kind. 

So I went to the Tongass and loved every bit of it.  The slight danger of encountering a predator better armed than myself. The slightly unsettling spongy softness of deep moss underfoot.  The furious little streams pouring off the glaciers and snowy mountain tops.  The deep fjords and bays bejewelled by islands that are also part of the Tongass.  The blue glaciers crumbling in dramatic bursts of spray where they abruptly meet the sea.  The charming small creatures that scuttle across the paths softened and deadened by pine needles and roughened by cones.  The birds – for I am a birdwatcher since girlhood. 

There are many fine birds in the Tongass though they tend to be secretive.  But handsomest of all is the Bald Eagle and this must be that bird’s spiritual home (though the Canadians might have a thing or two to say about that!).  These white-headed heroes of the sky are everywhere – perched on pine branches or seemingly quite at home on buildings and light poles in town, flapping with unhurried majesty across the inlets, diving with deadly accuracy for salmon.  They are not as perfectly formed for this activity as are osprey but they are pretty damned good at it all the same. 

In the little coastal tourist towns of Sitka and Skagway and Ketchikan it rains a lot in spring and summer and autumn (fall) but temperatures are milder than the interior thanks to the ocean and the great forest.  Winters can be snowy but mostly on the mountains all around, that stick up like cake frosting. 

These towns, like the capital, Juneau, are surrounded by the Tongass and it hugs them tight in its green hold, buffering them against the savage mountains high above where winds scour the rock faces and glaciers freeze the flow of constant rain. 

Skunk cabbage grows thick in the gullies and fruiting canes along the edges where there is more light;  food for humans and bears.  High on the slopes the Red and Yellow Cedar (Thuja plicata and Cupressus nootkaensis) give way to the Mountain Hemlock (Tsuga mertensiana) and the spruce (Picea sitchensis) rules them all.  The meagre Lodgepole Pine (Pinus contorta) huddle together like poor relations, upright and defiant in their low state. 

(Above: There are many well-marked hiking trails through the Tongass. And in summer, wild flowers and lush plants compete for sunlight along the forest verge, many of them with medicinal value known to the indigenous peoples.)

There are medicines here close to the ground, Arnica and Angelica as well as the many berries full of vitamin C. In summer the largest dandelions in the world grow here, matching the buttercups for brilliance, digestive gold for bears.  Apart from these, most of the flowers of this cold, wet forest are delicate and pale. 

The Tongass is not only the largest national forest in the United States but also the largest temperate rainforest in the world.  It has much in common with all rainforests everywhere– constant moisture, emergent trees fighting for light, a dark understorey where fungi flourish among the moss and lichen.  And yet it is distinctively different in many features, with its snow melt and dominance of trees bearing needled foliage, rather than broad-leaved species as found in warmer forests.  Its humidity has a frigid bite and its waters are more lively.  And it has secret places where many of its inhabitants must den for the long, dark winter. 

If you love rainforests, and you have never been to the mighty Tongass, go there before you are too old to be able to hike its steep trails and thus experience the inside mystery of it.  I found myself conscious of my eighty years and knew that because of them I could only access the fringe and wished I had backpacked into there when young enough to go high and long.

But I was still fit enough to go in a little way and feel the dark weight of the forest around me and glimpse a few of its creatures and be happy in my brief time there.  Other rainforest lovers will understand!

Murder in the jungle!

Different type of Strangler Tree fruit: Top left and bottom to pics, Ficus henneana (which grows in near-coastal NSW, Queensland and the Northern Territory. Two top right pics, Ficus rubiginosa or Port Jackson Fig (grows from southern NSW coast to tip of Cape York).

Death comes to the rainforest in a thousand different ways; slow and fast, gentle and brutal; premeditated and impulsive; silent and terrified shrieking.

This kind of forest – or jungle – is not a gentle place though on a fine day when the sun slants benignly down through the canopy and the sound of a running creek soothes the ear, it can seem that way.

And yet…there is a constant predation of the weak by those stronger and fiercer; above in the tops of the great trees, below in the leaf litter and under the boulders. The rainforest is so filled with life and yet even as we walk through, things are dying all around us. Big insects eat smaller insects and are in turn eaten by birds and small animals. Snakes and lizards slither and scuttle in search of sustenance. Frogs lurk in pools, waiting for dragonflies. Dragonflies swoop down on smaller flies.

And that’s just at ground level. Up above, the ruthless struggle just to make it through another day or hour or minute goes on. Pythons wrap themselves around high branches, eyeing birds’ nests. At night, bats dip and weave through dense foliage. Raptors hover. Leaves wither and drift to the ground, fruit ripens and falls into hungry mouths.

In the rainforest it’s the rule of the Three Fs – Feeding, Fornicating and Fighting.

And there is another “F” that features in the ecology of the rainforest; a silent, stealthy, sinister killer. The strangler fig!

This type of fig, mighty of girth, high of canopy, with its roots spreading like serpents for metres across the forest floor, is hemiepiphytic. This means it actually starts life as a seed dropped or excreted by a bird in branches belonging to a variety of host trees. The crevices where the seeds sprout into life are filled with leaf litter rich in decayed plant and animal matter. This nurtures the seed which produces aerial roots that spread downwards until they reach the ground, where they become terrestrial , growing into a latticework of separate “trunks” that support the tree and, in the process – and this is the cruel part – over time “strangle” the unfortunate host tree by denying it light, food and water.

The epiphyte is now a tree, growing wider and taller and stronger, supported by its wide-spread roots, some of which grow as big and thick as buttresses around the base. But the host is a prisoner, increasingly hidden behind the curtain of inter-twining stems that form the trunk of the new tree, until the old tree collapses and decays into the ground, thus continuing to nurture its killer!

It all takes a very long time. The ways of the rainforest are ancient and patient, beyond the easy measuring of Humankind. As with all the eternal cycle of life and death in this shadowy treescape, Nature is not cruel but merely remorseless, following its essential biodynamic.

Strangler figs grow in all types of warm-to-hot climate rainforest in Indika, South East Asia and the Pacific, Australia has several such figs, including examples of “banyan” type trees with multiple “trunks” from canopy to below ground. Several of these are famous, such as The Cathedral and The Curtain trees on the Atherton Tableland in far north Queensland. These are fine examples of Ficus virens and another famous site for this tree is in Eagle Street, Brisbane, right in the middle of an intersection. Here two seedlings of F. virens and one of F. benghalensis were planted in 1889 by Walter Hill, father of the nearby Brisbane City (formerly Botanical) Gardens.

Growing over a wider range of habitat than F. virens are the Moreton Bay Fig (Ficus macrophylla) and the Small-leaved Fig (Ficus obliqua) which are found from New South Wales right up the Queensland coast. Their huge size at maturity dominates the landscape; in the open they spread their limbs wide and don’t get too tall; in the rainforest their long trunks twist and lean upward to carry their branches into the sunlight.

A young Ficus macrophylla growing happily in a busy street. This tree has not yet developed the rusty underside to its leaves, as happens with most mature trees. The roots develop laterally at the base and form little “pockets” which trap water and leaf litter a fertile place for all sort of ground insects. And a trap, too, because foraging birds, reptiles and small insectiverous critters know it’s a good place to get a feed.

Most widespread and common of the hemiepiphytic figs is the one that carries the common name Strangler Fig – Ficus watkinsiana. This is a giant that is found in most types of rainforest from north of Sydney to north Queensland. Like all its kind, it plays a very important role in the ecology of the rainforest. The fruit, edible (albeit not very palatable) to humans is essential to the diets of many birds and a few mammals. Insects burrow into the flesh and breed there. The wide, thick branches provide nesting and roosting opportunities. Possums bats and gliders hang around in them too. Insects of all kinds can be found in or on the bark, a feast for the reptiles that feed on them. Mighty pythons spread themselves lazily, digesting their latest meal. The thick leaves provide shelter from sun and rain. Down below, the many above-ground root angles are filled with rich litter and housing opportunities for all sorts of small creatures.

Ficus watkinsiana, a giant of the forest.

All the strangler figs have similar leaves and fruit and these similarities are shared with others in the Ficus genus. The leaves are simple, tough, with strongly-marked lateral veins. They may be as small as those of F. obliqua (to 8cm), broadly elliptic, on longish petioles. A distinguishing feature are the long, rolled stipules, growing from the axils (very prominent in F. macrophylla). Another is the thick, milky sap in leaves and stems.

The fruit is not unlike that of the domestic fig but a lot smaller, varying in colour (when ripe) from yellowish-green to deep purple to red, usually with small, pale spots and a nipple on the end.

The roots are opportunistic in the extreme, seeking far and wide for nutrients, snaking over man-made barriers, laughing at our puny efforts to obstruct them. See the ancient temples of India and South East Asia where the mighty banyans clasp the walls and buttresses in a loving embrace which may be mutually beneficial as, with time, the trees support the crumbling buildings that once supported THEM. No wonder many belief systems attribute spiritual dimensions to them, or see them as home too dryads and Strangler Figs and humans have lived together for a long time. In Australia we don’t permit such liberties but we do allow these trees to disrupt the pavements and some public spaces in our cities, putting up with their disruptive powers for the sake of their shade and beauty.

Strangler and other Ficus species belong to the Family Moraceae, along with mulberries, jackfruit and breadfruit. It’s a noble family that has fed the creatures of the Earth for many an aeon. Figs were part of the diet of indigenous Australians, with the fruit of the related Sandpaper fig (Ficus coronata) being preferred.

When you look at one of the great rainforest strangler figs you don’t see it as a murderer, thriving at the expense of another tree which once generously provided the tiny seed with food and shelter. What you see is something heroic in its hugeness and admirable in its will to survive in a highly competitive environment.

As a species, it’s among my five favourite trees. There is just something so splendid about a tree that starts life as a tough little opportunist and then grows into something so magnificent to the eye and also a symbol of botanic redemption – ultimately giving back so much more than what it takes.

Ficus watkinsiana leaf – smaller than F. macrophylla, larger than F. obliqua.

Meet me

I’m Julie Lake writer, gardener, music lover, horticulturalist and long-time student of the plants and ecology of the subtropical rainforest.

I write books, too. If you are interested in Africa, you might like to read A Garden in Africa, about the remarkable Flora who created a famous garden out of the dry Kenya bush. If you love Wagner and enjoy the novels of the late Terry Pratchett you’ll get a laugh out of Ringtones, a satire on The Ring, where Gods behave badly and dwarves, giants and dragons behave even worse. Both are available on Amazon at http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00HNTL18Q and http://www.amazon.com/Ringtones-Julie-Lake-ebook/dp/B00HNVHLBA.

Or perhaps you are new to gardening and don’t have the best soil in the world. You can learn how to do something about this with my book www.amazon.com/Improving-Your-Soil-GardenEzi-ebook/dp/B007IXY6Y8

Then again, you might like to supplement your income by growing herbs – if so, I wrote a book on that too – How to Make Money By Growing Herbs. http://www.amazon.com/Herbs-Money-GardenEzi-Books-ebook/dp/B008R9JIUE

Both these gardening books are cheap to buy and full of useful advice in an easy-to-read format.

And then there’s my new book, a novel. Lyrebird Mountain. About Anna Bachmann, an ordinary woman who lives an extraordinary life on a mountain just like my own. It’s a family saga of love and loss, triumph and tragedy, war and peace – all those ingredients which make up a good read! Available now on Amazon in printed, ebook and audiobook formats. Go to: https://www.amazon.com.au/Lyrebird-Mountain-Julie-Lake-ebook/dp/B0FMMNDJS7?

WELCOME TO LYREBIRD MOUNTAIN

I live on top of a mountain surrounded by a magical, mysterious rainforest.  It’s the haunt of the Lyrebird, the spirit of this forest, whose call can be heard whistling down the deep gorges on misty winter mornings.  For many years I have studied – and written about – the birds and plants of the subtropical rainforest and you will find them here on this website. Just use the tabs to navigate yourself to where you want to go and be sure to leave a comment – I love hearing from my readers.