Pademelons
Small, quiet, dusk grazers. They like the edge of the lawn where the bush starts. Sit still on the deck and they’ll come within a few metres.
An acre on Bruny Island is, first and foremost, an acre of bush. Helyea sits inside it.
Dusk is the hour. The pademelons graze the edge of the lawn, the wallabies cross the road below, and the yellow-tailed black cockatoos pass overhead in their slow, mournful flight. White-bellied sea eagles soar over the shack on the thermals — their wingspan over two metres, unmistakable against the sky. Stay still on the deck and you’ll see most of the cast within an hour — and if you’re really lucky, an antechinus might scurry past at the edge of the torchlight. Below are just a small sample of the things we've been lucky enough to see at Helyea.
Small, quiet, dusk grazers. They like the edge of the lawn where the bush starts. Sit still on the deck and they’ll come within a few metres.
Bennett’s wallabies cross the track at first light and again at sunset. Drive slowly on the Lunawanna road — they don’t look both ways.
Big, slow, unmistakable. Their long wailing call carries across the gums in the late afternoon — always look up.
Olive-green and quietly beautiful, the female golden whistler forages through the understorey at Helyea. Often heard before she is seen — a rich, melodic whistle from deep in the scrub.
One of Australia’s most striking raptors and a rare sight. The all-white morph of the grey goshawk hunts through the canopy at Helyea — silent, fast, and unmistakable against the gums.
Banksia flowers crown the scrub along the property boundary, drawing honeyeaters and spinebills from first light. A quiet marker of the seasons on the acre.
Endemic to Tasmania and one of the island’s most vivid birds. Bright yellow and blue, they forage through the gums and wattles on the property and call loudly from the canopy at dawn.
A jewel of the Tasmanian bush. The golden stag beetle gleams bronze and amber in the torchlight, emerging after rain to move through the leaf litter and rotting timber on the acre. Harmless, rarely seen, and a sign the bush is in excellent health.
A robust, olive-brown frog with bold dark stripes running the length of its body. Listen for its sharp, repetitive “bok” call rising from the damp corners of the property after dark — one of Tasmania’s most vocal frogs.
When the light drops and the bush goes still, the pademelons come out. Red filter on the torch to minimise disturbance, guests — young and not so young — sit at the edge of the garden and watch them graze within arm’s reach. It is a privilege to witness.
Helyea sits in their habitat, not the other way around. Keep food and rubbish inside, drive slowly on the island roads, and watch from a distance. The wildlife is wild because we leave it that way.
Send a short enquiry with your dates — we’ll write back with what’s open.