Conservation Volunteering

Ready to brave the intense sun of the Australian bush

For a couple of days each week, I volunteer with Conservation Volunteers of Australia. Each week, we drive to a different location in or around Wollongong and do things like pull invasive weeds, plant trees, etc. It’s hard work but it’s a lot of fun. The best part is being able to hang out with a bunch of Australians all day. It’s a great way to learn more about this culture. I ask a lot of questions because they are constantly using words I’ve never heard or talking about subjects I know nothing about. For example, a couple of the guys were talking about the Dragons, Wollongong’s professional rugby team, so I asked,

“Do they have sports seasons here?”
“Sure, cricket in the spring and summer, rugby in autumn and winter.”
“When does rugby season actually start?”
“This Friday. Except for Super Fourteen. It started a couple of weeks ago.” (Side-note: Fourteen is pronounced four-deen here).
“What’s that?”
“Rugby union - it’s a different version of the sport. Most Australians prefer rugby league. That’s what the Dragons are. But the Kiwis and South Africans prefer rugby union so we have a few union teams that play them.”
“Why is it called Super Fourteen?”
“Because that’s how many teams there are - five from New Zealand, five from South Africa, and four from Oz.”
“Oh, I see.”

I try not to ask too many questions because I don’t want to annoy them. But they generally seem to like that I ask questions. I think this is because when foreigners ask questions it signals that they care about the culture and want to learn more about it. In fact, a couple of the guys I volunteer with have really picked up on the fact that I am very curious about Australia and they will periodically call me over to show me some native plant or bird and explain its significance.

I don’t want to look too much like I am studying them, but I confess that I really find them fascinating. I am amazed at how they can work all morning long in sweltering heat without touching a drop of water or hardly breaking a sweat (while I’m pouring sweat and sucking on my water bottle like my life depends on it). And their conversations are always interesting to me, whether it is a discussion of the biggest wave they have ever seen or the best techniques for brewing a great tasting beer. (Another side-note: Home brewing is a major pastime here. All the grocery stores here sell home brewing equipment and supplies!) But the best thing is just the back and forth banter I hear throughout the day. Some of the stuff they say is really funny to me, even though they really aren’t trying to be funny. They just have so many colorful expressions. It’s like a back and forth word game. It rarely makes sense, but that seems to be part of the game. For example, one bloke says to another, “Nice sunny day today – not a cloud in the sky.” And his mate points off at some little clouds on the distant horizon and says, “What are them? Goldfish?”

I hear stuff like that all day. My favorite quote from last week came during a discussion of the likelihood of getting attacked by a shark (which the Australians assure me is very unlikely, even though there is something in the news almost every week about someone getting attacked). At one point, one of the guys says, as if to settle the matter, “The only way one of them sharks is going to get me is if it swims up the beer tap into me schooner.” Classic.

On another note, I had my first encounter with one of Australia’s more notorious residents, the bull ant. The bull ant is about an inch long, with mouth pincers (I don’t know what they’re really called) about a half centimeter long, and a stinger which they use to inject acid into their victims. Nice little fellows. Well, I saw one for the first time while we were working in a subtropical rainforest about an hours drive south of Wollongong. He came walking right in front of me and I looked down at him and thought, “Boy, I bet he could give a nasty sting.” Just that instant, I felt like someone stuck a hot syringe into my ankle. I yelped with pain, looked down and his twin brother was firmly attached to my sock giving me a good injection. I flicked him off, and then his mate turned around, looked up at me, and then charged at me (no kidding). I guess that is why they call them bull ants. Well, we’re not really supposed to kill anything in the rain forest…and I probably shouldn’t have…but I couldn’t help myself.

Anyway, the pleasure of taking revenge on the obnoxious ant didn’t take away the burning in my ankle which continued for about ten minutes. But I didn’t get any sympathy from the guys I worked with. They thought it was funny.

“What happened?” The guy next to me asked.
“I just got stung by a bull ant.”
“Oh you did huh?” He said with a big grin on his face.
“Yeah.”
“What happened?” One of the other guys yelled across at us.
“He got stung by a bull ant.” Almost laughing now.
“He did? Haven’t got those in America do you?” Now they were laughing.
“Welcome to Australia.” Someone else yelled across. The laughter got louder.
“Consider yourself a naturalized citizen.” said another one. At that, they roared with laughter. Pretty much everyone thought it was funny.

Don’t worry though; they weren’t being mean to me. They do that to each other as well. It’s a cultural thing. My friend David Nelson who is from the similar culture of New Zealand (but superior - he would always remind me) once told me that teasing was a sign of acceptance. I guess if they didn’t like me they would have just ignored me. So it’s a good thing – sort of.