From Bin Diving to Besties? - December 2024 Blog

 

Jamy, this one is dedicated to you. Thank you for all the laughter we shared, and for taking photographic evidence of the following story… which I don’t think I can include without getting into trouble from the media team!

 

Hello Folks! Me again, writing about another adventure!

I have very quickly realized that most of these stories will seemingly connect to a deeper life meaning (that I tend to unravel as I’m writing – isn’t that serendipitous?) and revolve around people. Being a woman, adventuring off into nature alone is generally, and maddeningly, unsafe. Therefore, I usually have an adventure buddy. However, these are tales for another time, as although I had an adventure buddy, this time, this story takes place at work.

Still puzzling over the title? I promise you it will all make sense eventually.

Whilst I love spending alone time in nature, I also love sharing it and connecting with people (if you couldn’t already tell that from my last blog). I have a handful of distinct “alone in nature” memories, where I sidestepped away from the group I was with and took a moment to just breathe deep and connect; perched on a rocky outcrop before the ocean at Hastings Point; watching the sunrise on New Years Day with Whistling Kites (Haliastur sphenurus) at Wivenhoe Dam; sitting on a large river rock away from my classmates at Lamington National Park in Year 11.

In that same vein, I also have distinct moments of sharing nature with friends and loved ones; finding Flying Duck Orchids (Caleana major) with Jenni; hiking Flinders Peak with Kate; seeing a platypus for the first time with Tayla; pointing out trees and birds with my Mum and Gran’ma; identifying birds with Laura in Canberra; being gifted shells and hunting for pebbles and sea glass with numerous people over the years; and running around in the bush, climbing trees, and just generally getting up to mischief with family friends as children.

In nature we find peace and solitude, but we also find connection and sharing of knowledge and joy.

This story is about finding and sharing joy in unexpected places.

I’d been working with Jamy for a good few months before this story took place and while we got on really well, I think this moment was the one that really solidified our friendship as something more than just work friends. A few things about Jamy, she is one of the warmest people you will meet, has a bubbling laugh that feels like being enveloped by sunshine, she loves an organised space (and will thoroughly, but playfully, chastise you if you drop vet wrap packaging on the floor even though you had every intention of picking it up later!), she understands the allure of horse smell (if you know you know), and has such fierce determination to always stand up and speak up for what is right.

On this day, I remember walking into work for an afternoon shift and seeing frowns on the clinic team’s faces. After asking, I was told that the arrow from yesterday was missing. [I can literally HEAR your confusion, so to catch you up: Heartbreakingly, the day before a bird had been brought in with an arrow through its breast. This was not the first time I had seen something like this, and unfortunately, I don’t believe it will be the last. The poor creature was still alive; however, its injuries were extensive, and the decision was made to humanely euthanise it. Photos were taken as this was now considered a cruelty case, as though bow hunting is legal in Australia, it is heavily regulated, and the hunting of native species is prohibited. Though photos were taken of the arrow, we were keeping it for the time being, hence the frowning upon discovering its absence.] Scores of people had scoured the clinic to no avail, when someone suggested that it might be worth checking the skip bin.

“I’m down.” As usual, the words were out of my mouth in an instant. It sounded fun, like a little bit of adventure. Something out of the ordinary. Already, I was bouncing on the balls of my feet, excited.

“I’ll come with you.”

I directed finger guns and a wink at Jamy, my newest mischief associate, and we jauntily made our way to the skip bins, ladder carried between us.

After perching on the outside of the skip, alongside Jamy on the ladder, and trying to move around the overstuffed plastic bags, it became clear that our current plan of attack wasn’t working very well. Jamy had just lifted a bag, which to our dismay was not properly tied, and cascaded an avalanche of kitty litter over everything, when I decided to change tact. With a quick, “hold on a sec!” I dashed off to the Leaf Cutter Deck, looking for a rake or SOMETHING to help move the bin bags around, something to give us a bit more reach and/or grabbing power. Essentially, a glorified stick. I returned victorious, with two rakes and we continued searching.

It seemed futile.

“WHY THE HECK WOULD YOU CHOOSE A BLACK ARROW WITH DARK BLUE FLETCHING! IT’S ALMOST LIKE YOU WANT TO LOSE YOUR ARROWS!” Was a phrase we kept exclaiming in exasperation as we tried and failed to move bags from one side to the other, in a somewhat organised fashion, without them spilling their gross contents. “WHY NOT USE A PURPLE ARROW AND, I DON’T KNOW, PINK OR YELLOW FLETCHING?”

By this point I had abandoned my rake and was laying across the lip of the skip, reaching as far as I could to move bags around. As much as I’d been trying to avoid it, I knew there was one card left to play.

“I think I have to get in.”

Jamy looked scandalised.

“I’m getting in.”

I’d been coming to terms with the decision for the last five minutes and had surrendered to it. All I felt was calm as I swung myself in and landed waist deep amongst the black boulders of waste.

We made eye contact. “Ew.”

That was all it took for Jamy to start giggling and we redoubled our search efforts, fielding questions from curious colleagues that walked past. After about ten minutes we halted again.

“I think it was thrown out last night and the bins were emptied this morning. I mean, they’re barely half full, and this would have been the leaf from today. I think it’s gone.”

Despite our sinking suspicions, we searched on for another few moments before deciding to call it. Neither of us were thrilled about admitting defeat, and kept shooting glances around the bin, hoping to see a hint of dark blue or black, as if we could make it appear. (Turns out we DID make a violin appear months later, but that’s not part of this story.) I gracefully flounced out of the skip bin, we returned the rakes, and admitted a humbling defeat to our colleagues (the mood lightened by the photos Jamy had captured). An unfortunately boring and anticlimactic ending, but for me it’s all in a day’s work! Moments of troubleshooting always make for the best stories (often with really boring outcomes – either I fixed the thing, or I didn’t. It’s the problem, the process, and the journey that’s interesting part), and I am lucky that my life has been filled with these moments.

I truly don’t think I will ever forget such a simple and random moment that turned into a story that brings me joy every time I think about it (it goes without saying that I am not referencing the animal cruelty part of this story; I am referencing the absurd hilarity and found friendship in the bin diving part). Imagine if one or both of us hadn’t decided to go hunting for that arrow. Our choices, no matter how small, really do shape our lives.

Perhaps the moral of this story is: “Say YES to EVERY opportunity”. Or maybe, “Life is what you make of it, so make it an adventure”. Or maybe, “Sometimes good things come out of rubbish situations, and perhaps it’s not always the thing, or outcome you were originally looking for”. Maybe even, “Sometimes when you bin dive you find a new friend, and sometimes you find a beautiful China tea pot and grow devil’s ivy out of it”.

Whatever message you take from this, I encourage you to always look for the beauty in the tough times and to surround yourself with others who do the same and can help you when you’re struggling. I promise you, there is ALWAYS a silver lining, no matter how small, and sometimes that silver lining is learning how strong you are.

Until next time, safest of travels!

Ella

Ps. The next story does contain more wildlife and adventure!