Thanks, Yowie.  That's what I thought.  Actually, I didn't know about the
razorbacks, but with all the dangerous snakes, bugs and sea creatures you
have, who worries about a few pigs?  <G>

Joy

There's always Humphrey B. I've seen him quite clearly myself.

A distant cousin of the hoop snake, although I'm not sure vegemite behind
hte ears would ward off a hoop snake :-)

I take after my Dad alot. We share the same sense of humour. So I just have
to share this story.

My Dad is an enterprising man. Not greedy, but if he can find a way to save
a penny, he will.

He also is a passionate bushwalker, and loves going into the various types
of wild country that is Australia.

Of course, Australia is abig place, and getting to most of those wilderness
type places costs a fair chunk of money to fly there (its just silly to
drive), and the accomodation costs etc etc etc.

So what Dad used to do was, with his brother from Canada, organise
photographic tours of various places for Canadians and Americans (and anyone
else foolish to sign up). He calculates the price of the tour so that the 20
tourists he signs up end up paying for the cost of his brother and himself,
so that Dad & Uncle barry get the trip for free in exchange for 'teaching'
the tourists Bush lore, lots of tutorials in photography, and leading them
on the various treks.

Dad is a character, and providing you haven't heard his stories a bazillion
times before, is a really funny likable sort of bloke. But he's also
discovered that tourists, and I'm sorry to say, particularly tourists
fromthe North American continent, are particular - um - gullible when it
comes to anything related to the Australian bush.

One of our native birds is the Cassowary, a native to the northern tropical
parts of Australia. Its sort of like a small emu with an exceptionally bad
hangover (http://www.amonline.net.au/factsheets/southern_cassowary.htm).
They are actually quite dangerous if you scare them, and the locals know to
give them a great deal of respect and distance. They are very much a part of
hte local ecology though, and many of the native plant species need to have
their seeds pass through a casswary's digestive system before they can
sprout.

So, the night before, sitting in their cabin, Dad tells the tourists about
the Cassowary, and how its droppings are actually very valuable and
absolutely should not be disturbed by anyone at any time, because thats
often the only way that new rainforest plants can ever grow.

The next day, deep into the undergrowth, the party stumbles across a small
pile of cassowary droppings. Dad calls everyone around, telling them to be
very quiet, because they are fresh and the bird that left them may still be
around. Dad bends down, and looks closely at the pile of small, brown
pellets. "Hmmm," he says, "a juvenile, I think. Its very rare that a
juvenile comes down this far."

The tourists are entranced.

Dad picks up one of the brown pellets. He looks at it very closely, and
sniffs it. "A male, by the look of it". He passes the pellet to his brother.
Uncle Barry, after looking and smelling, says "I would have said it was a
brooding female actually". Dad picks up another pellet. "There's only one
way to be sure", and pops it in his mouth, chews, and swallows.

"Oh, you are right, it was a brooding female. Just check for me, will you
Bazza?"

Bazza (Uncle Barry), also eats his pellet. "Yup, thought so. She's probably
looking for a mate"

By this time, the tourists are both very impressed at the tour leader's bush
knowledge, and are also quite weirded out that Australias east bird poop.

The tour continues, with stories stolen from Banjo Patterson, Henry Lawson,
Slim Dusty and other Australian folklorists, as well as some mostly genuine
stories that Dad and his brother have actually experienced (although they'd
never let the truth get inthe way of a tall tale).

On the last day, each tourist is presented with a small plastic bag of
Cassowary droppings, 'harvested' by Dad un Uncle Barry, so that the tourists
might be able to grow some rainforests plants "back home". The droppings had
to be kept cool, and dry, of course, so Dad and Uncle Barry encouraged them
to carry the small package in their hand luggage.

I wonder how many people ate their chocolate coated peanuts, and how many
planted them?

Yowie