by Carl Strang
A highlight of my trip to Australia more than a decade ago was a peaceful morning spent at the edge of a stream bordering Mount Field National Park in Tasmania. I had expressed my desire to see platypuses to my hosts at the National Park Hotel, and they got permission for me to go onto property owned by friends, where they often sit and relax, and where there are resident platypuses.
It was the most peaceful place of my experience, and if I had a way to go instantly back to Australia, it is the precise place where I would choose to land. Occasional strips of deciduous eucalypt bark fell from the trees on the opposite bank, and once a brilliantly colored fairy wren, so chickadee-like in its behavior, passed by. I didn’t have to wait long for the first platypus to appear, and I got to observe those odd creatures as they swam, dove and foraged in the pool below.
I was writing music in those days, and the following is an impression of my feelings that morning.