Platypus is back on the menu, photographically speaking. After months of raptor obsession, a change of approach is required, mainly because the good old Panzerwagen has finally rattled down the final curtain, making longer expeditions less frequent, but also because the season is changing (as they do) and other opportunities beckon.

In addition, September was Platypus Month here in New South Wales, when amateur naturalists, dog-walkers and rough swimmers report their close encounters to a dedicated website — a kind of playpus census, if you will. And Archie and I, zealous monotreme-spotters both, determined to contribute.

The thing is, when you’re creeping along the riverbank trying to be quiet, your mind is free to wander unfettered. So it was that, hiding behind a tree next to a creek the other day, my otherwise empty head hosted a whimsical game of associations.

These were based mainly on a book I received as an 11-year-old one Christmas. Titled Unbroken, it was the account of a British submarine ace, Alistair Mars, during the second world war — rather specialist, I guess, but I found it utterly compelling and re-read it numerous times over the years.

The parallel with our platypus is pretty obvious: both are designed to hunt under water. Of course, they both stalk their prey by stealth; both are given to crash-diving when in peril; and where a submarine needs Sonar to see beneath the briny, the platypus emits electric pulses. In addition, good as they may be at cruising neath the wave, both do need to resurface periodically for air.

But of course the organic version is so much more complex and capable than anything people can build. This is where the whimsical childhood literary association is doomed. You’ll be familiar with the highlights: the platypus is the only known living member of both its Family and Genus; it’s a mammal that lays eggs; the male has a poisonous spur on one hind leg; it glows in the dark when exposed to UV light.

Not much of this is evident when you see one in a local creek though — what is striking when you observe this amazing animal is its absolute affinity with its watery home. Sure, all creatures are adapted to their environments, but when you watch a platypus, you start to see that it’s not so much in the water as of the water.

This isn’t just semantics — have a look at the pics above. See how the little critter retains an unbroken skin of water across its pelt as it dives? In a sense, it’s completely encased in water. It hasn’t pierced the surface. There is no loss of connection between the beast and its element.

When you see one of these guys going about its business, its movement through the water appears effortless, like the action of a wave. They travel surprisingly fast when heading for any particular destination. This is when they’re quite easy to spot — they create a strong v-shaped wake: an arrow pointing to where they’re headed.

And even when they aren’t making tracks in this way — say they’re stopped in one place to check out a lurking photographer — they’re still moving. That’s how you can tell the difference between a platypus and a piece of flotsam riding low above the surface: the monotreme undulates repeatedly in the water, creating ripples all around itself. I’m not sure if this motion is a kind of treading water, or whether the beast is chewing on the tasty bugs and small fry it has retrieved from the depths and stored in its cheek pouches.

And while they can be very elusive and maddeningly quick to disappear beneath the surface when you approach, platypi seem to be quite curious — especially the younger ones — and will occasionally hang around to have a good look at you. That’s what the little fella above appears to be doing while she/he undulates.

Of course, being living organisms, platypi can do one thing that Commander Mars’ submarine couldn’t, and that’s procreate. Because this is a family blog and we are all of a genteel, respectful nature, let’s just focus on the pre-coital ritual, which is rather sweet.

Around September in these parts, a male platypus whose thoughts turn to wooing will approach a female within his territory and attempt to bite her on the tail. If she isn’t minded to yield, our female will leave the vicinity — probably by crash-diving and making off unseen. If, however, she is charmed by the nibble on her hindmost appendage, she will reciprocate by trying to bite her suitor’s tail in return. And thus they swim in a little circle.

I had the privilege of witnessing this phenomenon the other day. Not easy to capture, so have mercy on my video skills. You can take it from me that this is what happens in the clip below.

Anyway — we wouldn’t want to intrude too rudely on the critters’ nuptials, eh? As far as I’m aware, there’s no such genre as platyporn, and I for one would like it to stay that way.

And if all of the above compelling tortuous drivel isn’t enough, all I can say is, look how cute the babies!

I know, I know — I have set out my stall against anthropomorphising the inhabitants of the wild, but even a stone-cold cynic like your author has to confess that platypus offspring (known as ‘puggles’, mind you) are incredibly appealing. Of course it’s not smiling as we would understand it, but, well . . . awwwwww!

I guess I owe Lieutenant Commander Alastair Campbell Gillespie Mars DSO, DSC and Bar an apology, but his war stories can’t match this. After all, we all have to grow up. Small boys might find tales of wartime derring-do beneath the sea fascinating, but the workings of our earth and its multifarious inhabitants are truly worth an old curmudgeon’s study.