By Mark Robertson

WHEN you first arrive at the Mahers Landing carpark, you might be underwhelmed. There’s a basic boat ramp, a fish cleaning table, a navigation beacon and a toilet block. At high tide there’s an expanse of water with Venus Bay on the distant shore. At low tide, you can see expansive mudflats dissected by sinuous channels. This is Andersons Inlet, the estuary of the Tarwin River.
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By Mark Robertson
 
OUR Bass Coast is rich in varied habitats – beaches, remnant bushland, estuaries, farmland and urban environments support varied and, often, rare species.  
One habitat which is often literally overlooked is the subterranean world which stretches from the subtidal through to the lofty Bass hills. All sports of creatures excavate and inhabit our rich soils – including us humans.

By Mark Robertson
 
EACH day the high tides deliver a new treasure trove to our golden beaches (anyone remember what was written at the entrance of Wonthaggi?). The physics of our moon and sun interpose to cover our shores with a new strandline, each one slightly unique. Add in the barometric readings, wind direction and strength, and the sheer uniqueness of each high tide is apparent.

By Mark Robertson

BACK in the olden days (the `60s and `70s), the centrepiece of many homes was the china cabinet, a glass-fronted tomb containing all the special and delicate treasures one accumulated and displayed: Royal Doulton figurines, special teacups and saucers, curios from the P&O cruise to the far east, and those strange silver-plated cake tongs, the least-used device ever invented.

By Mark Robertson
July 16, 2016

IF I were to design a totally alien species – given my formative childhood diet of B-grade sci-fi, James Bond and The Three Stooges – it would consist of writhing tentacles, green blood, huge eyes capable of ultra-violet vision, multiple hearts, a voracious parrot beak, jet propulsion, smokescreens, and the ability to change colour instantly.

By Mark Robertson

MY FIRST echidna encounter for the season was in October – the Saturday of the Moto GP. I was enjoying a great coffee at the Hicksborough store, watching the motorbikes heading towards Phillip Island, when a lady stopped her car suddenly. An echidna had decided to cross the Bass Highway. Soon the traffic had halted, waiting for it to decide whether to wander across the busy road or attempt to burrow into the warm bitumen. A motorcyclist picked it up (leather gloves have more than one use) and deposited it on the "nature strip", and the traffic once more flowed.