not the cuddly type

tachyglossus aculeatus - if only Latin was the world language how much better off we would be, even if we had no idea what it meant most of the time. Yes, yes, it's all about scientific classification I know - some Swedish bloke called Carl Linnaeus (1707-1778), trying to impress his mates over a Beer in a Stockholm Pub (drinkus lotus) devised the binomial nomenclature system which is used to identify species etc. I am informed by a wiser person than me that the system Linnaeus designed does make naming rights and identification simpler - I'll take this wiser person's word as gospel. Thankfully, we still use common names, which at times are just as fascinating as the Latin bafflement, caption.

I once read that Latin was described as a language written for very angry Bees. To this effect I recall some lines from a Sylvia Plath (1932-1963) poem, 'The Arrival of the Bee Box':

"... I lay my ear to furious Latin.
I am not a Caesar.
I have simply ordered a box of maniacs ..."

It's a whack you in the face poem, should you get the chance to read its entire 36 lines. Though I do like the inference (not to dilute Plath's superb poem, of Latin as a maniac language spoken by Bees). Perish the outcome upon you if you have no idea what they were saying when you disturbed their Hive! Then again, if you could speak Latin (it's still spoken in a few places apparently, notably the Vatican) you could try to pacify them [the Bees] with some witty Latinesque one liners before they struck you mercilessly with their stings.

This has nothing to do with an Echidna in the real world of the common person, for the Latin is merely a distraction from the ripping yarn of the name Echidna (pronounced: e-kid-nah) itself. To this effect we return to the mythology of the ancient Greeks - those blokes who clearly had too much time on their hands. An Echidna is a fearsome looking monster with the torso of a woman and a serpent's tail instead of legs. Quite a woman I am sure you'll agree. It seems Echidna was quite infamous for being the mother (some writers claim the mother of all mothers) of some of the most awful creatures in Greek mythology, namely: Cerberus, the multi-headed dog that guards the entrance to the Underworld - next door neighbour's dog is called Cerberus and he is the tamest, friendliest pooch you will ever want to meet. I digress. Other off-spring of the lovely Echidna is: The Nemean Lion, quite a ferocious beast with impenetrable skin (so he'd thwart modern game hunters and tanning salons). Ladon, the hundred or so headed dragon who guarded the Hesperides sisters. Hydra, the feared water beast, who by some accounts was a nasty drip (weak joke here folks) and gorged its enemies for sheer fun. The Sphinx, well known even to this day. And, of course, the Chimera, the fire breathing monster that our Japanese comrades seem particularly enamoured in motion pictures. This is just a few of her terrible brood who caused the Gods all sorts of mayhem, though it was often mere mortals who dispatched them in the end.

Now, why the Australian Echidna or as it is colloquially known, 'Short-beaked spiny anteater' is labelled in such a way can be put down to clearly 'frightened' English Scientists who had never encountered such an animal. The Echidna, generic to most parts of Australia, is (along with the Platypus) the world's last surviving monotreme - an early branch of mammals that still lay eggs like reptiles and yet suckle their young upon hatching. They are very shy and well camouflaged to blend in unobtrusively with the Australian Bush and they've been around since the age of the Dinosaurs. They are ant & termite eaters with their long sticky tongue, grow to around 40-50 centimetres weighing between 2-7 kilograms and can live up to 45 years. The live on the forest floor and in nesting burrows. They have vicious claws, primarily used to scratching the earth and breaking open falling tree logs in search of food. You'd not want to get on the wrong side of a right hook from an Echidna as they'd slice you open like a rampaging Edward Scissorhands. Their spikes, that make them look like a Hedgehog, are each formed by a single hair and are quite painful though used purely for defence from predators. As an aside, I've never encountered an Echidna suffering from hair loss either. The male Echidna has spurs but no venom glands attached. Oddly, the Echidna can swim quite well and when mating takes place, it is belly-to-belly, which avoids the male spiking himself on the female's spikes. He'd not want to get 'confused' in this regard I reckon otherwise it would be a severe case of 'ouch!' I also read that an Echidna can lift twice its weight (try doing this on a quiet day in the office, though how you would lift yourself could be problematic) and its level of intelligence is slightly less than of a Cat. I think this overrates Cats - no offence meant to Cat owners.

For me the Echidna, which I reckon are one of the most beautiful of indigenous Australian mammals, always looks stressed. They seem eternally scrumming around and are not the easy of creatures to photograph in the wild. As soon as they sense your presence they start digging into the ground and form a defensive spiked ball, best avoided and best not stepped on. However, if you keep perfectly still and upwind, they will go about their business.

This Echidna, which looked to be a juvenile, I came across whilst doing an afternoon's ramble under some soothing June sunlight along a Creek near my home. I was amazed to see an Echidna in these parts - the Creek is not the most pristine of habitats. So, I moved around and sat quietly until the creature resumed its forage to take the photo. Proof again to always have your camera with you. It was the only photograph I took for the day too!