This remnant of a lost world has survived against the odds.
By Ed Thexton
I AM new to the Western Port woodlands after nearly 50 years of drive pasts. Recently I’ve walked with Dick Wettenhall to take in the orchids of The Gurdies and with David Nicholls to put bandicoot camera traps in the Adams Creek Conservation Reserve.
When I walk the woodlands it is with a sense of marvel. I can take the long view. The wide tree spacing, low ground cover and dispersed groupings of shrubs allow for that. The walking is easy. There is plenty of interest because the colour hasn’t been taken out of the country. There are the reds of the occasional running postman. Its low-nutrient soils hardly support a weed, which of itself is remarkable.
I AM new to the Western Port woodlands after nearly 50 years of drive pasts. Recently I’ve walked with Dick Wettenhall to take in the orchids of The Gurdies and with David Nicholls to put bandicoot camera traps in the Adams Creek Conservation Reserve.
When I walk the woodlands it is with a sense of marvel. I can take the long view. The wide tree spacing, low ground cover and dispersed groupings of shrubs allow for that. The walking is easy. There is plenty of interest because the colour hasn’t been taken out of the country. There are the reds of the occasional running postman. Its low-nutrient soils hardly support a weed, which of itself is remarkable.
Walking through the compact dune swale landform and the little creeks you come across discrete patches of Melaleuca squarrosa and along the creek stands of Pomaderris aspera – so distinctive. I crossed a tannin coloured sand bed creek in the Adams Creek Conservation Reserve. Of the literally thousands of creek kilometres that I have walked, the closest analogy I have is the creeks of Fraser Island. That is high praise indeed.
We struggle to retain or rebuild our natural heritage by reproducing pale facsimiles at great effort and expense. The utter irony is that here intact is a place with the lot.
I am not new to the bush. My business is rehabilitating the vegetation of the waterway. I’ve worked urban, peri-urban and rural, and with the all-too-rare exception I’ve worked in a diminished world, where only the most tolerant of species survive and thrive. That work, in the main, is weed control. Degraded, disturbed landscapes are the preserve of the weed. I joke about having half the plants of the Mediterranean basin to contend with, but it’s not too short of the truth. Devoid of the organisms that keep them in check in their homeland, they multiply and dominate in the well watered, nutrient-rich environs of the waterway.
| Here we are replacing lost plants, preparing the sites to encourage regeneration, devoid of a primary factor. The indigenous animals are largely gone from our farmed districts, particularly the smaller diggers. It is almost incredible to witness the disturbance of an echidna on song; we can only imagine what it was like when there were the bandicoots and their ilk. My world of the marginalised, the disturbed and fragmented is exemplified by the shires of Bass Coast and South Gippsland. With its reliable rainfall, low gradient and reasonable soils, Bass Coast is so well suited to farming that we are left with scraps of vegetation on roadsides and a little on the few bigger waterways. Only 5 hectares out of every 100 is uncleared and most of that is weed infested. Woodlands are a rarity because woodlands are a natural for grazing. Not too many trees to clear. Down on the coast, often on sand, the trees aren’t big so again relatively easy to clear. What’s not to like? By a curious twist of fate the Western Port Woodlands have subverted the dominant paradigm of regional land clearing. That’s a good enough reason in 2021 to keep this rare example of a lost world that is never coming back. It is a reminder, as you pass through it, of the wonder that must have gripped those first Europeans. The mantle of almost continuous tree cover would have afforded a place of security as wild winds swept across the unconstrained openness of Western Port. To top it off the Woodlands retain not just the flora but the fauna – the goannas, the bandicoots, the antechinuses. We struggle to retain or rebuild our natural heritage by reproducing pale facsimiles at great effort and expense. The utter irony is that here intact is a place with the lot. | Walking the talk  I’ve just returned from walking in the woodlands. Nothing like the stimulus of a good walk. To that end I've an idea or two. Invite a small crew to do the walk we have just done or better with a picnic at the end. No haranguing, just the recuperative power of a walk. I'm thinking Daniel Andrews and family, reprising the walk of nearly 50 years ago when Dick Hamer walked beside the Darebin Creek and promised funding for what was to become the Darebin Parklands. Imagine the Wonder of the Woodlands, a recreational resource for the older generation, its moderation, its welcoming nature, and turning Grantville from a mining town to a recreational hub. This way the horse riders, the town’s folk, the neighbours, become champions Imagine the Great Woodland Walk, a small-scale Appalachian Trail, a trail from Adams Creek Conservation Reserve via the Holden Proving Ground and The Gurdies to Grantville Conservation Reserve.  |
Talk about fiddling while Rome burns! The Western Port woodlands are the main game, the rest a mere sideshow. Come on, Victoria. If at this time in this place we cannot adjust our priorities to retain these woodlands then nothing we do in conservation has any real meaning.
Ed Thexton is president of the South Gippsland Conservation Society.
Ed Thexton is president of the South Gippsland Conservation Society.