National Geographic : 1956 Dec
804 Wicker Lobster Traps Suggest Wasps' Nests Tasmanians bait and sink these baskets in coastal waters to snare the clawless crayfish (opposite). New Englanders prefer a boxlike pot made of laths. This Stanley fisherman has hauled his boat ashore for repainting. Truck after truck, laden with cases of apples, crawls away through the hills toward Hobart. Ap ples spill onto the streets. Apples replace flowers on dining-room tables. Chil dren eat apples as they play games or ride bi cycles. I kept apples handy in the car to top off picnic lunches. Edging into a long con voy of loaded fruit trucks, I followed them to Ho bart's docks. Ships of all sizes and flags crowded the wharves. Most of the vessels were swinging crates of apples into their cold holds. Tasmania's very first apples were planted on off-lying Bruny Island by a seafaring man associated more often with bread fruit and mutiny. Capt. William Bligh's botanists in 1788 set out several trees at Adventure Bay. Bruny, 31 miles long north and south, varies in width from 300 yards to 10 miles. On a map the island takes the shape of a scrawny kangaroo. The well-scattered popu lation numbers some 600. They raise apples, cattle, and sheep, or fish and cut wood for a living. A resident farmer, Tom Smith, drove me around the island in his Ford. Where sharp winds sing in the tall dune grass and the sea whispers to the long, sandy beach, we found a colony of pen guins. It seemed almost improper to find them here, solemnly walking about in the relatively warm air instead of en joying bitter Antarctic weather.