In praise of the micro-adventure

Years ago now, I started to document the wildlife in my backyard. We live in the Northern Illawarra, across from a remnant of sub-tropical rainforest that snakes its way up and into the escarpment. It’s suburbia but with diamond pythons.

So I spent a lot of time just noting the various critters who came to visit, from the golden-tailed ants through to the very special and very rare appearance of a powerful owl using our gum on its way across the night.

But something happened. Spending time in my backyard stopped being enough. I wanted to see more. I wanted to travel, albeit not particularly far, but out of my yard, out of my suburb and document all the things living outside of my cocoon. And there’s nothing wrong with that. Birders, in particular, will know that feeling of finally seeing and ticking off a bird you’ve been wanting to find forever. It’s addictive and a real shot of adrenaline for those of us who like their adrenaline hits on the ground, where it’s safe.

The thing is, like many people, I can’t always do the big adventures; the long drives, the time away from home, the hours and hours of waiting and searching, standing and then crawling around on all fours. For me, this is due to illness and recently I’ve found myself stuck. No physical ability to do adventures™ and yet still this constant niggle to get out amongst it. Cue: staring at the wall instead.

And so I took myself back to where it all started.

I grabbed my coffee and sat outside in my yard. Little lacewing nymphs, their fringed bodies adorned with debris they’ve collected, scurry over my table. Jumping spiders with their puppy-dog eyes wait amongst the succulents for prey to wander within their reach. Newly hatched mantis, swaying side to side. Bowerbirds whistle and whir amongst the foliage, while overhead a white-bellied sea eagle makes its way home, a fish in its talons, a ribbon of cawing ravens trailing behind it. A small golden-crowned snake discovered underneath a pot where I’m hoping to plant a bird's nest fern. So much life, a few steps from my door.

So I’m here to sing the praises of the micro adventure, the wanders close to home or even at home. I promise, there’s so much to discover, even if you can’t roam far.