Having spent the last 6 months discovering every trail, pathway and opening between trees searching for a hidden world in my 5km bubble, I found more than I was looking for.
The semi-rural streets, in which I reside, have the big spoon drains and many unpaved roads. More often than not, the dance of manure and pine blossom permeates the breeze.
Street lights are few and far between and I’m sure Dan Andrews was thinking of my safety when he set my nightly curfew for 8 pm.
Rooster’s crow from dawn to dusk, goats bleat, cattle dogs bark, magpies warble, and the Yellow Tailed- Black cockatoo’s wreak havoc on the pinecones, littering the ground with shredded pieces below.
It’s a beautiful place to live.
The wind carries all the animal noises in a chorus of country hues and I assure you I have learnt to ignore that Rooster. The cockies having migrated from the east lost their homes to fires and other than treading on jagged pine cone bracts with my bare feet, fallen beneath the ravenous flock, I’m in awe as they take flight in large numbers.
I’ve always been aware of the beauty that befalls this place. I am drawn to the country life, having space to spread my own metaphorical wings. The resultant littering from the birds seeking food neither bothers me nor deters me from sharing my ‘country life’, sadly it is the humans of this area, or at least those who seek passage through the arterial roads that leave little care for it.
There is a principle of the trails that I educate and encourage my community to uphold;
Leave No Trace.
However, it is apparent that on my daily walks that not many share this attitude.
The drains are flooded with rubbish, straws that find their way into waterways and to the sea. Cans and bottle tossed from the windows of passing cars, now face masks line the paths, discarded without due care. Walks through local bushland tell the same story of discarded wrapper’s, drink bottles or dog poo wrapped neatly in plastic bags and hanging from trees.