Seeing RED

摘要

SAND DUNE AND gibber plain. The Sturt Stony Desert stretches from horizon to horizon in Australia's heartland, its varnished, stony surface reflecting the heat, making this a land of bizarre mirages. It is one of the most unforgiving corners of our harsh land. Averages out here mean nothing. For decades the country can lie baking under the pitiless sun. But sudden changes, originating far away in the Indian and Pacific oceans, can trigger widespread rain, turning it into a Garden of Eden. And when that happens — as it has in the last few years — every living thing changes gear. Seeds that have lain dormant spring to life. Aestivating frogs shrug off their torpor and struggle to the surface, while small mammals breed as if there's no tomorrow. Soon, the desert is carpeted in grasses and herbs, and throbbing with life. In 1974 I was lucky enough to see the phenomenon for myself. I was in the Lake Frome Basin as a volunteer on a fossil dig, excavating the 30-million-year-old bones of creatures thatonce lived in rainforests, when great thunderstorms rolled in. Soon our excavations were waterlogged and tracks impassable, so we sat in camp and watched the spectacle. Over the course of a single night frogs emerged by the tens of thousands, overrunningour campsite. Their croaking was so loud we couldn't sleep. Within weeks a carpet of green had spread under the gaunt mulgas, and flowers were blooming everywhere — white daisies on the dunes and purple parakeelya in the swales.