The Nightshift, Willies Pearl Farm, Crocs, Cassowaries and Epigenetics

Back towards the end of medical school I vividly recall an Emergency rotation I had out in New Westminster – a suburb of Vancouver – requiring an hour commute back to my apartment. We had to do a few nightshifts as often the cases arriving in the middle of the night were much different from those during the day and besides, it was something we would likely have to experience once we were out on our own. Although very few cases come to mind from that rotation, I do remember the long slog home in the morning, barely able to keep my eyelids from collapsing over my eyes. With this vividly ensconced upon my brain, I wasn’t looking forward to my final two nights of work. The day shifts seemed to be a bit long at times but in our ADD way, we plucked along finding things to do. Unfortunately, on nights it was me alone (with a few nurses of course), so I was left to my own devices and had to manage whatever buzzed through the door into the emergency. On my first night there seemed to be a steady stream of doctor seekers until the wee hours of the morning and then nothing. The second night was on a Thursday – apparently pay day in these parts – so we were anticipating lots of fun and games which never seemed to materialize. I was blessed with some “good call Karma” – the gods were looking out for me and let me rest my weary eyes. The drives home were only 5 minutes, so the fatigue didn’t have a chance to catch up.

The good thing about doing nights is that you get to play during the day (with a nap of course) so we decided to explore the raison d’etre of Broome – its Pearling history. The best marketed pearl farm (and perhaps one of the only ones in the area) is Willies and it does daily tours through its main pearling shed (now shop and tour facility) some 20 kms out of town. It sits on Willies Bay which is essentially a protected lagoon. The name has a few origins. For one, the Aboriginal name for twisters or tornadoes is ‘willie willie’ and they get their share of some big storms in this area so boats will often need to use Willie Bay for shelter. Secondly, there is a certain type of mangrove in this Bay called the Willie Mangrove which is famous for its roots which can be crushed up and then sprinkled in your favourite fishing hole. It apparently takes up all the oxygen in the water and the fish essentially float to the surface for easy collection. Once you’ve collected your lot, your kids jump in and swim around to re-oxygenate the water – or so we were told. Given the propensity for crocs in the area I’m not so sure I’d let me kids anywhere near the water! The tour gave us a rundown on pearling oysters, how they seed them and the 5 qualities which determine a pearl’s value (size, shape, skin/texture, lustre snd colour). After a bit of refreshments and fresh-from-the-oven beer damper, we took a short boat ride around the bay to see some of the naughty oysters (those that would spit their seed out and make odd shaped pearls) and a resident croc sun-baking within the mangroves. We then returned to the Pearl shop to browse the South Sea Pearl collection and see if we could value some pearls ourselves. In short, pearls are bloody expensive. The cheapest basic South Sea Pearl on a chain is in the order of $680 and these usually have a few flaws which put them at the bottom of the scale. Other larger, more perfect pearls fetch a few thousand dollars each. A string of pearls, depending on quality, can set you back anywhere from $20,000 to $100,000 perhaps more. The question is – who’s buying these things and more importantly- why? I went into a shop in town and the marketing was essentially – well how much do you love her? Excuse me? I’d give my left nut for my wife but wouldn’t drop the dollars they were asking for these small rounded oyster abscesses, nor would she expect me to – in fact she’d probably make me take it back. We both know she’s not a Christmas tree – so why the need for such adornments? Needless to say we didn’t leave any of the kid’s inheritance at Willies Pearl Farm Shop.
Our second adventure on day two of my nights was to the local croc farm/ wildlife refuge. I never get tired of visiting these places as the animals are fascinating. They epitomize all that is incorporate in the term ‘fear’ and fit the context of ‘nightmare’ perfectly. They are the inventors of stealth and likely, the term, Game Over – in the natural setting. One beastie was a former Perth Zoo resident and aptly named Zooey. He was 4.3 metres long and looked like he had swallowed 2-3 very fat Americans. When we were visiting he was lying in the sun literally against the 2mm thick link fence through which we were peering. Of course the tour guide had to demonstrate that Zooey was indeed aware of us being their and with a stomp Zooey launched his head at the fence and us – very scary stuff! The reserve also had various bird species and some cassowaries. We’d seen these before up in Cape Tribulation but seeing them again was just as fascinating. They have this large ridge of keratin material (what fingernails are made from) on their head called a casque which apparently is used like a battering ram as they run full speed through the thicket. They move their head around like an emu, side to side, back and forth, and eat whole fruit – straight down the gullet. Their necks are such that you can actually see the plums or whatever fruit they might be eating, making its way down the hatch. Just like the crocs, they seem otherworldly, from some prehistoric time. Speaking of which, our tour guide at Willies had pointed out that crocs have now learned how to eat cane toads. Apparently, they block off the back of their throats, sort of chew on the toads and shake their heads until all of the poison has dispersed, then open up the back hatch and pop them down. How they learned to do this is a bit of a mystery as they are far from social creatures and often will eat their own young if hungry. Our guide surmised that this new behaviour is likely traceable to the time of Gondwanaland, when all the continents were essentially one large land mass. Perhaps the late great ancestor of the croc was genetically programmed at that time to manage with poisonous toads like the cane toad and it wasn’t until Queensland so wisely introduced the species (without any known predators in Australia) to get rid of the cane beetles that crocs were re-introduced to these beasties, effectively clicking the genetic switch in their brains to milk the poison out before having a feed. In some weird 'synchronicitous' fate I just so happened to pick up one of the many Guardian Weekly newspapers we’ve managed to collect  (and have yet to read) and found an article regarding a theory of epigenetics essentially outlining this very phenomenon. When applied to human species it is actually quite scary as it entails that stressors or adverse experiences that we have may actually trigger something in our genetic makeup that carries forth into our children and our children’s children. It makes for a good argument to treat others well and avoid seriously stressful living situations such as war or abject poverty as these population groups will take generations to genetically recover. It likely explains the current predicament of so many of the aboriginal peoples of Australia, Canada and elsewhere, in which they have essentially become entrapped in DNA coded chaos perpetuating itself through each successive generation. Alas, this blog is going on too long. With work now done I should hopefully be able to become more regular in my submissions again. Sorry for the wait.