We interrupt this unstarted sequence of my oddball jobs to tell you about something a little closer to home. While the odd jobs may turn out to be an interesting bunch of stories which will be fun to resurrect, it has very little to do with embracing life in Braidwood, which is what this blog is meant to be all about.

Not to worry, though — those stories are for a rainy day, and with the third successive La Niña summer upon us, there will be plenty of those to endure this year. In the meantime, let me tell you about a lunch hour Archie and I spent in Braidwood’s grandly named Bicentennial Park the other day. It involved two of our favourite kinds of Aussie wildlife — a kingfisher and a platypus.

Now, you’d think by the lack of platypus content herein that there aren’t many around — but you’d be wrong. Quite a bit of our time in the last year or so has been spent in pursuit of this fascinating monotreme, and there are photos to prove it. But such is their fascination, it’s never seemed quite the right time to set it all out. So I’ll do that another time.

Yesterday, Archie and I strolled down to the park, taking advantage of a rare break in the incessant rain. It’s a good place for him run off-leash: quite often, people on the road from Canberra to the coast will stop there so their dogs can have a break and our doggo gets to chase and be chased for a while.

There wasn’t much chance of that yesterday, though: the park was soggy from recent prolonged rains and Gillamatong Creek, which traces its northern border, had overwhelmed its banks, transformed from its usual lazy meander into a rushing, swirling river.

We were on the lookout for Sacred Kingfishers. Last year a nesting pair raised a brace of handsome offspring there, and I was thrilled to have seen see them back again, hanging around the same hollow tree where they made their home before.

This time we didn’t spot the little fleck of white among the foliage along the creek that denotes a watchful kingfisher. Disappointed, we made our way to the far end of the park, where there’s a good place for spotting platypi.

The trick is to stand still, pretending to be a tree, and keep an eye out for ripples. Again, we were disappointed, and having waited for 60 Mississippis, I shouldered the camera and turned away. And then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the characteristic V of ripples made by a platypus’ rapid progress through the water, head only above the surface.

(That’s its eye just behind the yellow facial patch.) As if it knew I’d seen it, it crash-dived after I managed just two quick shots. Unusually, a trail of tiny bubbles traced a ruler-straight line headed downstream — our monotreme was on a mission.

We trudged back downstream — just in time to see the platypus’ wake surging across the next pool in the chain making up the creek. Our friend was still heading purposefully down the flooded creek.

Back where we had started, we lurked in the bushes in fresh hope of a kingfisher sighting. Presently, looking down on the creek about 50 metres away, I saw the platypus appear and motor busily across one of the wider pools — and then it headed into the powerful rill that drained the pool, launching into the current with with every appearance of enjoyment. I swear it stuck its hind foot in the air, like I’ve seen bodysurfers do in the exhilaration of the ride.

It’s quite rare to spot one of these shy animals going about its business so openly, and it gave me a warm glow that the journey hadn’t been wasted.

And then, again from the very corner of the eye, I saw that tell-tale white speck. Yes, in all the excitement, a kingfisher had arrived in a nearby tree and was posing nicely, intently scanning the grass for prey. I’d say more than a third of its length was beak. So after spotting the white shirtfront, and of course the blue head and wings, the most characteristic thing about our elusive friend is that weapon of a bill.

Then, through the viewfinder, I saw the little bird suddenly dive off the branch — almost faster than sight. It was pure luck that everything was in focus and the shutter fired in time to catch it (you may need to click on the images above to see them full-size). I couldn’t follow as she parachuted almost vertically into the short grass and emerged with something in her beak. It was a big, juicy, pink worm, which was enjoyed with relish, as you can see.

It’s days like this that make up for all the times you slouch through the bush or crouch in the bushes, trying to look like a tree or a rock and always hoping, hoping that something photo-worthy will happen. And after a week or more of various shades of rain, having the chance to get out and really breathe is more than welcome. A surfing platypus and a kingfisher eating a worm? That’s an all-time top-ten lunch hour in my book.