Leaving Darwin, the propellers outside hummed loudly (reassuringly). We pressed our noses to the windows, looked out on the wild top coast of Australia. The fires lit by thousands of years of tradition. And then, we were there. Over the mines, into the red dirt.

On the deck with Jennifer and her niece; with Chopper; with MacBook Pro

We drove east to Umbakumba then headed into the bush on sandy tracks. We set up tents on top of a berm, feeling {relatively} safe from water-borne crocs and collected firewood from the beach. We watched a heavy moon pull itself up into the sky.

Picnic Beach, Groote Eylandt | Jaime and Eddie set out, bait, and mark quoll traps

Under Jaime's guidance, we set out traps for quolls, hoping to catch at least a few to obtain measurements and hair samples.

We caught 4. Plus a few bandicoots. It was good enough for Jaime to get her samples, and good enough for me - these were the first wild quolls I'd seen.

It was only a week ago we got back from Groote Eylandt. What a special place. Wild, and raw, and special. An island of contrasts, between a traditional culture and a modern mining industry. An island with a lot of crocodiles.

It was my first trip up, and Nelle came along. We met the Rangers and friends and family and Gavin and Kerry and the rest of the team and Alex-from-Stanford. We drank tea on the deck at the Ranger station, and packed up everything {but petrol} for a quoll-catching venture to the east side of the island. {Former labmate} Billy was appointed Ranger Coordinator. We learned our first Anindilyakwan words. We entertained Nelle, and learned the value of ABC for Kids downloads {and PhD students}.

A quoll curled up in its very own, custom-made pillowcase | fishing for dinner

We were almost as successful catching fish ... the ocean here teems with them {apparently} but we didn't have much luck. Three fish only made it into our bellies.

That's ok. We had plenty of patience ... and potatoes.

- written byAmanda Niehaus

Crabs will fake it to avoid a fight, research finds Dr Robbie Wilson, Head of the Performance Lab at UQ, where this study was conducted, said the research identified more than just some crabby behaviour. “This study is important because it reveals the general principles behind how liars and cheats are controlled and encouraged in nature.“Whether it's a soccer player diving to fool a referee or a crab trying to intimidate a rival with weak claws, our lab has shown that individuals cheat more when their deception is likely to go undetected,” Dr Wilson said.

Ms Candice Bywater who is finishing her PhD on fiddler crabs, said that she found that more males bluff their way through fights when they are less likely to get caught.

“When there are lots of crabs living in one area, there is lots of competition for resources like females and food. High competition means there is a greater chance of males having to fight each other to win resources compared to when there are not many crabs about. Those crabs might not have to fight at all,” Ms Bywater said.

“Crabs that have strong claws will generally win fights. Producing large and strong claws is important to their survival.

“Where crabs are likely to have to fight a lot, the crabs are producing large, strong, reliable claws. We found that when there are not many other male crabs in a population (low competition), males produce large but relatively weak claws (unreliable), as they don't have to fight as often and ultimately because can get away with it."

In nature, signals may be behavioural, as in growling or posturing, but are often structural, including the antlers of a deer, and the enlarged fore-claw of many crustaceans.

A male that overstates his quality could improve his ability to gain food or mates, but surprisingly, most signals are honest reflections of a male's prowess.

Written by UQ Media