The Cassowary is one hell of a bird.  Big, (up to 85 kilos) ugly, frequently bad tempered, and primeval looking.  

Tales and myths abound about this ornithological freak, the worlds third largest bird after the Ostrich and Emu. 

It’s reputation seems to stem from a combination of it’s testiness, a strange looking horn on top of it’s head, pink fleshy flanges that swing about it’s neck like some giant mutant Turkey, and massive three toed feet, one of which contains a particularly sharp claw. 

This talon is a very effective, and on rare occasions, lethal weapon.  A Cassowary when spooked and in attacking mode, will pump up it’s feathers, charge it’s victim, and with a Bruce Lee type manoeuvre, attempt to eviscerate the unfortunate object of it’s derision.  An encounter with a pissed off Cassowary would then I imagine would be a pretty un-nerving experience, and explains why many Australian’s are scared of them.  In fact, there is only one recorded human death from a Cassowary, an 11 year boy who was attacked by one in the early 19th century and bled to death from his wounds.  That said, you really wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of one.

The Cassowary is down to an estimated 1000 birds in Australia now, largely confined to the ever dwindling rainforest of the Northern Tropics, so spotting one outside a zoo is a very special, and rare experience.    For days evidence of the elusive bird was all around us…road signs in this part of the world extol drivers to proceed with caution, lest they wish to have an expensive bonnet crunching encounter.  On day two, while exploring Coopers Creek, we came upon (there is no delicate way of putting this) a mound of fresh poo that was big enough to come from a small horse, and containing giant intact plum looking seeds.  This we were later to discover was indeed, the expellings from a Cassowary, and the plums aptly named Cassowary Plum’s, poisonous it seems to everything except it’s eponymous diner.

The next day I embarked on a guided walk through the forest courtesy of the highly recommended Coopers Creek Guided Walk Centre, led by a likeable, and highly knowledgeable guide, by the name of Murray.  Heading into the deep forest, we were regaled with reports of recent Cassowary activity; A love triangle, with a female entertaining up to three males (tho not at the same time)  the comings and goings of a large adult male, the tough love of Bertha, the big dominant female, repeatedly trying to drive her four month off-spring away into the forest, Cassowary’s doing the Times Crossword, that kind of thing.  But over an hour into our two hour walk, though we’d seen strange primeval footprints, more enormous mounds of Cassowary shit, there was no sign of the big bird. 

By this point I’d pretty much given hope.  But then there, deep in the dense under growth, there she was, Bertha, the big dominant female, calmly making her way, stopping for an occasional Cassowary Plum, and seemingly oblivious to the group of excited group of walkers, snapping away all with the fervour of a Japanese tour party. 

There really is nothing remotely like it on Earth, a walking feathered dinosaur of a bird, it’s head a mass of bright blue colouring, giant horn, and those bright pink appendages, flopping around it’s neck, and occasionally making deep guttural noises.  A fitting emblem and inhabitant of the world’s only 400 million year old Rainforest.

Different country up here, in the far North of Queensland, Australia, a unique confluence of elements, where the Reef meets the tropical rainforests. 

The Daintree rainforest is an awe inspiring 200 million year old legacy from a time when Australia was originally part of the ancient super continent Gondwana.   Lush, dense vegetation, with towering canopies, ferns, and at the sun deprived ground level, very gloomy and mysterious. You half expect a T-Rex to come lumbering through the thick undergrowth.  Full of plant species found nowhere else in the world, some of these really are the living dinosaurs of the horticultural world, though you’d have to be an expert to really appreciate it.

We’re staying in the Daintree Forest Heritage centre, at Coopers Creek, one of the oldest parts of the forest.  It feels genuinely “out there“ – no TV reception, no mobile reception, and just a scratchy FM  radio signal, picking up ABC North Queensland, and it’s news about crops, cane toad impact, aboriginal affairs and on our first full day’ the death of Michael Jackson,   Last night, as we dined on a menu of crocodile fillets, and smoked Emu salads, strange animals darted around outside in the gloom, and the noise of the crickets, and mysterious animal noises thankfully almost drowned out the sound of Irish songstress Enya on the PA. 

Trying to get to sleep is an interesting challenge.  As well as the afore mentioned sound of the forest,, every now and then, ones slumber is abruptly interrupted by the sound of large seed pods dropping a hundred feet from the upper canopy on to the tin roof of our bungalow.