Category: Big Sea Creatures

Those who wade unwarily into the windswept waters beneath Murray Bridge risk being ravaged by something truly frightening. Frighteningly fantastic, that is, because Bertha the Bunyip is both an ancient indigenous spirit guardian who devours those foolish enough to take a dip in the Murray River, and a proud, brave trans woman.

Meanwhile, I have a doozie of a time keeping up with two Netflix shows at the same time – teehee!

Assigned male at birth, this mesmerising monster was known as Bert when she first appeared in 1972. She was lovingly created by local chap Dennis Newell as the major attraction for the Weerama Festival, which was held on the Australia Day long weekend each year. Lamingtons, party pies and a rendezvous with slimy water imp, does it get any better?

With $2250 from the council and $500 from the local Jaycees club, Dennis spent months constructing the adorable abomination in his shed. Designed to emerge from a pool of water and roar ferociously at anyone silly enough to peek inside his cage, Bert was certainly unique amongst the Bigs.

“Everyone thought he was a little bit crazy,” Dennis’ wife Marlene told a captivated reporter. “Dennis recalls much controversy emanating, with heaps of media comment and ratepayer meetings.”

Despite his ghoulish appearance, Bert was an immediate hit. Curious onlookers lined up to drop 20c into Bert’s bucket to watch him squeal. Dozens – perhaps hundreds – fainted during the outrageous encounter, but thousands of dollars were raised for the community.

So successful was the attraction that Dennis made a tidy profit selling Bert t-shirts, coffee mugs and school lunchboxes, and even hatched grandiose plans for a bunyip-themed board game. Bert-a-mania was gripping the nation but, deep inside, the star of the show was living a bunyip-sized lie.

Bert or Bertha?

The good people of Murray Bridge needed to adjust to living alongside a hideously deformed creature of superhuman size and strength, but Bert was dealing with something even more ghastly – gender dysphoria.

On December 5, 1981, the world was shocked, yet delighted, when Bert introduced her lovechild, Graham. The smaller, yet equally gruesome bunyip caused a new wave of Bigthusiasts to flood into this vibrant rural community.

But a bombshell would soon be dropped upon an unsuspecting public. Bert, famous for brash masculinity and tough guy charm, now identified as a woman. And so she revealed her true self, Bertha, a curvaceous and feminine swamp monster who delighted and frightened in equal measure.

Her bravery inspired many in Murray Bridge to bare their own sexualities, with several burly tradies and members of the local Aussie Rules team also coming out as trans. It was an age of enlightenment in the region, and it was all thanks to an animatronic swamp creature.

Being an icon of pride did not, however, vaccinate Bertha from the twin terrors of bigotry and stupidity. In 2000 a group of transphobic alt-right hatemongers broke into her cage and, in an act of domestic terrorism, brutally bashed Bertha and kidnapped poor Graham. The beautiful rainbow child, a symbol of hope to all gender-diverse Australians, was never seen again.

Scarred beyond recognition, Bertha required a complete reconstruction. She emerged some time later bigger and more beautiful than ever, with her trademark ruby lips and provocative expression luring in lovers from all walks of life.

The members of the anti-trans death squad were, fittingly, dragged to the icy depths of the Murray River, their bodies never recovered. Which brings us to the violent, bloody, vicious legend of the Mulyawonk.

Sun’s out, the Bun’s out!

To truly appreciate Bertha’s legacy as the grand poobah of Murray Bridge’s flourishing LGBTQIA+ scene, we must go back thousands of years, to the Dreamtime. Pomberuk, as the area was known to the local Ngarrindjeri people, was a popular meeting place for hunting and fishing and all those those icky things that a lady of leisure such as myself wouldn’t dream of doing.

Sadly, this little slice of paradise was destroyed by some Selfish Simon who came along and took all the fish from the river, leaving none for the others. I feel their pain – the same thing happened at West Gosford Sizzler back in my youth, when a very young Guy Sebastian would scoff all the salmon fajitas, leaving crumbs for the rest of us.

Thankfully the elders, tired of this cretin’s shenanigans, transformed this Greedy Gus into a mulyawonk – a sort of half-fish, half-man detestation. Geez, imagine the impact on the Australian music scene if the security guards at Sizzler had been able to do that to Guy Sebastian!

Whilst I am Australia’s most beloved cultural historian, I’ll hand it over to Rita and Michael Lindsay to tell the rest of this horrendous morality tale, through the eternal words of The Mulyawonk Song.

We know the Mulyawonk, lives in the caves and rivers
He watches and he waits for the ones that he can take
Remember the ancient ways of the river and waterways
Our elders sang

Take only what you need, for you and your family
Don't go swimming alone, or fishing on your own
Remember the ancient ways of the river and waterways
Our elders sang

Mulyawonk is still there, you should look everywhere
Mulyawonk makes the sound, in deep water he is found
Remember the ancient ways of the river and waterways
Our elders sang

Murray’s Darling

A visit to this verdant township is always a delight, so when I was summoned by Gerald Wang, president of the Murray Bridge Commerce and Culture Advancement Society and proud trans man, I wasted no time heading there. Huddled outside a well-regarded coffee shop for a skinny cap and a vanilla slice, Gerald clasped my hands within his and leant in close.

“Bigs, mate, the town needs your help,” he spluttered, a thin film of froth quivering on his top lip.

“Plenty of towns need my help, Gerald,” I responded, blowing the froth off my beverage. “Be specific.”

“It’s Bertha, mate, she’s stopped working,” the non-binary businessperson blabbered. “Since being damaged in the floods she just lays there in the water! Our booming tourism industry’s ground to a halt. Without the threat of being eaten by a robotic goblin, fish thieves are running rampant. And with the region’s only source of entertainment busted, our teenagers are being lured away by the bright lights of Adelaide. We’re gonna lose the town, Bigs!”

“Not on my watch, Gerald,” I reassured him, before guzzling the remains of my scalding hot drink and flouncing off to put on my scariest pink unicorn bonnet. Taking up residence in front of Bertha’s cage, I snarled and slashed at anyone imprudent enough to wander near. Not surprisingly, entranced sightseers were soon lined up all the way to Tailem Bend.

Unfortunately I was a little too scary, causing several pensioners to have heart attacks after chasing them through the streets of Murray Bridge.

“No big deal,” shrugged Gerald. “We’ll just toss their bodies into the river and say the mulyawonk did it!”