I went to the lake for peace and quiet. Why did it end with me “All shook up”?
At the lake entrance I saw a woman striding along like the leader of a marching band. She had two sheepdogs on a tight leash. Both shivered with anticipation.
She barked, “Bobo – go left! Coco – go right!”
The dogs raced off in opposite directions like furry arrows.
They clearly had a mission. I just didn’t know what it was. They may have been sheepdogs, but what were they rounding up?
Ducks, cyclists and joggers are notoriously difficult to herd.
I stepped onto the narrow path along the dam wall.
A grinning nine-year-old on a bike was heading straight for me. Behind him puffed his grandfather on a bike two sizes too small, pedalling hard, two basketballs bouncing from the handlebars in string bags like oversized earrings.
“Alan!” Grandpa wheezed. “It’s time (gasp) for basketball practice! (gasp) Not bike racing!”
Alan giggled and rode faster, obviously having fun leading his grandpa on a merry chase.
“I like the scenic route!” Alan yelled as he swerved past me. “It’s funner!”
Grandpa swerved too, trying to avoid me. But he crashed into a bush and the basketballs bounced across the path and into the lake.
“Alan! Help!” he yelled.
Young Alan thought this was a huge joke and plunged into the murky lake, threw the basketballs to grandpa and clambered out, dripping wet. Then he made sure grandpa was okay and tore off again.
I walked on. Alert, expecting the unexpected, bracing myself for plot twists.
A young woman blocked the main path, swinging what looked like a jousting lance tipped with a piece of glass. She kept on smiling at it. She primped and preened and posed and twirled the stick. She nearly decapitated me and several others.
Later I learned it was a selfie stick holding her phone camera.
Apparently she was filming herself having an authentic nature experience but she seemed to be avoiding nature. She swung the stick in wide arcs, forcing walkers to take the lower track that led to the big bridge over the creek. What was she up to?
At the lake lookout I spotted a massive black swan. Long neck. Red beak. Dramatic presence. It rose from the water flapping like it owned the lake and then settled back down again.
I’d never seen one here before. They usually live on the coast, twenty kilometres away.
Was he lost? Broken hearted and looking for love? Scouting out a setting for a new movie called “Swan Lake Showdown”?
Could I lure him home with breadcrumbs? Do swans eat breadcrumbs? What about sourdough pond weed?
So many questions, so few answers from the swan.
Near the creek, a young man all in black strode toward the bridge. Black cap. Black sunglasses. Carrying a large black box covered in knobs and dials. I love a good gadget.
Was it a swan translator? A pop-up barista coffee stand? A submarine drone to chase all the carp fish pests out of the lake and down the drain?
Then I saw him.
A middle-aged man in a gold lamé shirt with a collar high enough to require planning permission. Gold cape. Black trousers. He bowed to everyone he met as he walked along saying “Thank ya. Thank ya very much” with a cheeky lip curl.
Gold Shirt and Gadget Man met on the bridge. They gestured dramatically. This was not a swan rescue mission.
The selfie warrior reappeared. “Go see the show!” she commanded, nearly spearing an elderly walker.
Then came the barking.
Bobo came up behind us, herding a crowd of humans toward the bridge. Coco did the same on the far side. We were like confused sheep.
The area around the bridge filled up with humans and dogs.
Gadget Man hoisted his machine onto the railing. It was portable PA system. Of course.
Young Alan skidded to a stop on his bike, in a spray of gravel. Grandpa followed, bouncing off a tree trunk thanks to the cushioning of the basketballs.
“See, Grandpa? Scenic route – funner-er!”
Then Gold Shirt raised a microphone.
“I’m Melvis Messley — Melbourne’s most banned Elvis tribute act!”
Naturally.
He launched into “You Ain’t Nothin’ But a Hound Dog, Cryin’ all the Time”, supported by the man in black who had started playing a twangy rock ‘n roll backing track through the PA system.
The PA blasted. The sheepdogs howled. A dozen fluffy white dogs joined in. All off key. But they gave it everything.
The crowd joined in the chorus: “You ain’t never caught a rabbit and you ain’t no friend of mine” while making rabbit ears behind their neighbours’ heads.
The dogs howled even harder in response and added a few yelps at the thought of rabbits.
Selfie Girl filmed everything. Herself. Melvis. Herself again. The swan. Herself reacting to the swan. She posted social media updates every thirty seconds.
By the time Melvis brought down the pace and crooned “It’s Now or Never, my Love won’t Wait” the black swan had made a decision. It was now.
He began a dramatic take off sequence. Flapping. Running on water. Spray everywhere. Just when it looked like he would run out of lake, he finally lifted off like a heavy jumbo jet and swung around towards the coast.
Melvis finished with a flourish. The crowd roared. The ducks quacked themselves silly.
Melvis bowed and blew kisses.
Suddenly he swept away in a swirl of gold lamé. He had spotted a park ranger running towards him.
Selfie Girl made a final announcement to the audience: “That’s all, folks. Melvis has left the building, I mean… the bridge. Don’t forget to look out for me… and him. Wherever he isn’t banned yet.”
I went to the lake for peace and quiet. And found a whole lotta shakin’ goin’ on.
But as Elvis himself would put it :
“That’s all right …
That’s all right …
That’s all right now mama
Any way you do” ①
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© Geoff Milton 2026
① “That’s All Right, Mama” written by Arthur “Big Boy” Crudup. Recorded by Elvis Presley in July 1954.
