We humans share this planet with an immense array of creatures.

On a daily basis, whether consciously or not, we interact with a variety of living organisms, some of which are welcome in our space, and some which are definitely not.

Let's start with the insect. The brazen mosquito mercilessly irritating you with its buzz at night whil you're trying to sleep; that plump and shiny black cockroach scurrying across your kitchen floor and suddenly darting under the fridge before you can thwack it; the pesky fly which relentlessly bombards you, but only when your hands are full; the beetle, the ant, the bee, the spider all have a reason for being, and have been eminently successful at it.

They are true survivors.

Humble dogs and cats, our beloved pets, give us unconditional love, loyalty and companionship. We sometimes affectionately call them our fur babies and they are a treasured part of family life. Humans develop deep and loving relationships with these creatures, and it is always a two-way street. As it is with pet horses and ponies.

We depend on farm animals in a different way - we raise them for their meat, milk, eggs and wool.

Then there are pet birds, snakes, mice and reptiles. Humans interact with and care for these creatures, as we do for those that are free and wild, both on land, and in the sea.

Over many years travelling extensively in Australia, and then in other parts of the world, I have had the good fortune of many encounters with a variety of these animals, sometimes planned, sometimes by chance.

Living in Kiama is such a blessing for a sea-loving person - our town is on the coast, our waters are clear, we can boast of octopuses being born in our rockpool, of pods of dolphins surfing in the waves of our beaches, of whales visiting annually as they head north to give birth, and then south again along the whale trail.

I was at Kiama's round rockpool one very wet day last year during whale season. It was icy cold, the wind was howling and pushing the waves violently onto the surrounding rocks.

There was not another soul there. I was standing at the top of the stairs looking south, watching the huge sudsy surf swirling, crashing and launching spumes of brown froth skyward.

Suddenly, a hill appeared to slowly raise itself out of the water. It looked as if the sea bottom had risen. It was only after it dived again and then resurfaced that I realised what it was.

If I'd been crazy enough in those conditions to stand on the pool wall, I could have reached out and touched a whale. I stood, totally awestruck, waiting for it to rise again. But no more, it had gone.

On another occasion, this time in Monkey Mia in Western Australia quite a few years ago, I came even closer to another beloved sea creature.

I had for years wanted to interact with dolphins, and apart from seeing them from afar while I was in the surf, or from even further on land, this bucket list desire of mine hadn't eventuated.

Until we were in Monkey Mia. Handfeeding of dolphins was offered as a must do for tourists, and I bought my ticket.

But it wasn't to be.

Unlike years ago, there are restrictions now put in place when it comes to animal welfare. Today, the rangers quite rightly, strictly control dolphin feeding, to maintain their wellbeing.

If we feed them too much, they won't hunt their own food. They become reliant on humans, to their own detriment.

These days, at each daily feeding session, with hundreds of onlookers, four or five children are given a tiny bucket each with one or two fish, which they feed to the few dolphins on show.

This was the delightful, caring and correct way to interact, but nevertheless I was a bit dejected. I'd not achieved what I came to Monkey Mia to do.

So, behaving like an overgrown sulky toddler, I headed for the nearby beach and its warm, comforting water, lilo under arm, to ponder what might have been.

Within a few minutes of luxuriating on my lilo, spirits now uplifted as I bobbed around lazily on top of the water with the sun shining down on me, I happened to turn my head slightly, and saw a dark shape pacing through the water, headed my way, and it definitely wasn't human.

In that instant, my worst fear made its way into my disbelieving mind. This couldn't be happening to me. I was about to be attacked by a shark.

In another instant, the creature was there, and then it was under me. It had dived under me on my lilo!

It was a dolphin. A gorgeous, glistening, graceful creature of the sea, gliding so smoothly through the water, and it had found an unexpected toy floating along on top, with a human attached.

For only a minute or two it stayed to play, and then just as suddenly as it had appeared, it was gone. It felt surreal - had that just happened?

By sheer wonderful chance, I'd had my dolphin encounter after all. So had hubby, sunning himself on the shore, phone in hand. He got the photo, and to this day when I look at it I am still amazed by how lucky I was.

There have been many other encounters with creatures. I have swum with manta rays at Ningaloo reef, and reef sharks on Dunk Island.

I have sat on an open-sided truck in Kruger National Park, a little too closely in my opinion, watching lions eating a wildebeest. The smell in the searing afternoon heat was indescribable.

I have been divebombed by micro bats in the CuChi tunnels of Vietnam. And rushed at by a foam-mouthed dog in a Phnom Penh street. Fortunately, hubby took aim with a rock and scared it off.

I have ignored a python living under my bedroom, and a red-bellied black snake living for a short time in a drain near my front door on Berry Mountain. And still on the mountain, I persisted with creating gardens despite my resident wombats tromping them as they blissfully and blindly went about their nocturnal wanderings.

I have been stung relentlessly by bluebottles, bitten by mozzies, and traumatised by rats who lived in the bar I worked in at the Menzies hotel back in the 1970s. It was all part of my job to bash ferociously on the metal fridge doors as I opened the bar at 11am daily, in order to warn the rats off. Customers would never have known.

These encounters with all manner of creatures has enriched my life. I have enjoyed and been positively inspired by most of them, and will set my sights on having many more in the future.