{"title":"La Niña and the platypus: stories of Australasian water relationships","authors":"K. Daniell","doi":"10.1080/13241583.2021.2010392","DOIUrl":null,"url":null,"abstract":"Skipping out the door, the little girl jumped over the concrete steps and cartwheeled across the lush green grass. She whistled happily to herself as she grabbed some fennel off a sprouting plant at the back of the garden to munch on, before jumping to reach the highest bars of a bent metal ladder that was attached to the apricot tree, swinging across it like monkey bars. An hour later, as the sun began to dip in the sky, she had her helmet on and was off for a scoot around the neighbourhood wetlands with her big brother and a family from the next street, the parents following lazily behind, their mouths and noses enjoying their new found freedoms in the fresh air. The wetlands were full of birdsong, or rather cacophony when the cockatoos entered the fray overhead, and were teeming with tadpoles and low croaking, and a myriad of other insects and people who had come to appreciate the beauty of the welcoming day. Halfway around the path at the edge of one of the ponds, peering through and over the reeds, there were outstretched arms from a bunch of very excited people, some with kids on their shoulders, exclaiming “Look! There!” The kids dumped their scooters and ran over to see what was happening. The water broke slightly and circular reverberations could be seen making their way in all directions to the reeds. “Are you sure?” said one of the women, disbelieving the crowd. “There can’t be any here,” said another, “It’s likely just a fish.” The water broke slightly again, with a dark grey protrusion like a slippery stone just visible. “There! There!” shrieked a young boy from his mother’s shoulders: “It’s a beak!” And as if just to confuse the crowd, a couple of seconds later, a patch of sleek brown appeared near the tree debris a metre away and travelled along the surface of the darkly reflective water for just a second before appearing to dive out of sight. “Papa, papa, c’est un ornithorynque” squealed the excited little girl, her face brimming with delight. Not waiting another second, she turned to her brother and affirmed in no uncertain terms, “This is the absolute best day of my life!”","PeriodicalId":51870,"journal":{"name":"Australasian Journal of Water Resources","volume":"25 1","pages":"91 - 97"},"PeriodicalIF":2.4000,"publicationDate":"2021-07-03","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":"0","resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":null,"PeriodicalName":"Australasian Journal of Water Resources","FirstCategoryId":"1085","ListUrlMain":"https://doi.org/10.1080/13241583.2021.2010392","RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":null,"ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":null,"EPubDate":"","PubModel":"","JCR":"Q2","JCRName":"WATER RESOURCES","Score":null,"Total":0}
引用次数: 0
Abstract
Skipping out the door, the little girl jumped over the concrete steps and cartwheeled across the lush green grass. She whistled happily to herself as she grabbed some fennel off a sprouting plant at the back of the garden to munch on, before jumping to reach the highest bars of a bent metal ladder that was attached to the apricot tree, swinging across it like monkey bars. An hour later, as the sun began to dip in the sky, she had her helmet on and was off for a scoot around the neighbourhood wetlands with her big brother and a family from the next street, the parents following lazily behind, their mouths and noses enjoying their new found freedoms in the fresh air. The wetlands were full of birdsong, or rather cacophony when the cockatoos entered the fray overhead, and were teeming with tadpoles and low croaking, and a myriad of other insects and people who had come to appreciate the beauty of the welcoming day. Halfway around the path at the edge of one of the ponds, peering through and over the reeds, there were outstretched arms from a bunch of very excited people, some with kids on their shoulders, exclaiming “Look! There!” The kids dumped their scooters and ran over to see what was happening. The water broke slightly and circular reverberations could be seen making their way in all directions to the reeds. “Are you sure?” said one of the women, disbelieving the crowd. “There can’t be any here,” said another, “It’s likely just a fish.” The water broke slightly again, with a dark grey protrusion like a slippery stone just visible. “There! There!” shrieked a young boy from his mother’s shoulders: “It’s a beak!” And as if just to confuse the crowd, a couple of seconds later, a patch of sleek brown appeared near the tree debris a metre away and travelled along the surface of the darkly reflective water for just a second before appearing to dive out of sight. “Papa, papa, c’est un ornithorynque” squealed the excited little girl, her face brimming with delight. Not waiting another second, she turned to her brother and affirmed in no uncertain terms, “This is the absolute best day of my life!”
期刊介绍:
The Australasian Journal of Water Resources ( AJWR) is a multi-disciplinary regional journal dedicated to scholarship, professional practice and discussion on water resources planning, management and policy. Its primary geographic focus is on Australia, New Zealand and the Pacific Islands. Papers from outside this region will also be welcomed if they contribute to an understanding of water resources issues in the region. Such contributions could be due to innovations applicable to the Australasian water community, or where clear linkages between studies in other parts of the world are linked to important issues or water planning, management, development and policy challenges in Australasia. These could include papers on global issues where Australasian impacts are clearly identified.