Author: David Jenkins

Seems for ever since I started this series, and now I’m going to share some of the more intimate portraits from the season.

It needs to said, again, that these birds were not under any stress from our presence, indicated often enough by their close approach, and sometimes complete indifference to our presence.
No photo is worth stressing the birds and it’s something we are constantly aware of.
If I approach a bird, it baulks and flys on, then that is a serious failure in their trust on my part.

Working with the young is just a little different as they emerge to fly and as we were in the area every other day, they just accepted ourpresence. I invited a friend down one day and while we were standing together, the birds were comfortable. But if he walked about on his own, they would quickly relocate. So much so that in the end, he commented to that effect.

Quite a number of the portraits were made with the bird resting quietly on a branch, and me standing still, waiting.

Not all birds react this way. But we believe the time put in working with just a few birds rather than trying to spot many in a day and build no connection, is worth it.

I’ve quoted from Jon Young before, but here it is again.
… a San Bushman said, ” Every time I see and recognise an individual bird the thread stregthens. Eventually it will grow in to a string, then a cord, then a rope. This is what it means to be a Bushman. We make ropes with all aspects of creation”
Jon Young, “What the Robin Knows” p.xxv

My challenge is to acquire an understanding of the bird’s perspective. Or at least an appreciation of that perspective.

Here’s a baker’s dozen.

Enjoy

Writing this up now—several months later—it made me think how quickly the time we spent with the clutch sped by. They are, no doubt, off for their winter layover further north. The adults to ponder a return season, and the young to set up families of their own.

WIthin only a few days of being out on the wing, the young were beginning to learn hunting skills, and quickly became confident at the drop and grab technique.
Dad now began to have time to look after the other skills that no doubt a young Kingfisher must master.

About 150m along the river from their territory a pair of Collared Sparrowhawks had begun a late nesting, normally they would have their young out and about well before the end of the year, but it wasn’t until mid-January, just about the time of the young Kingfishers training weeks that the two young Sparrowhawks fledged. So it was not unusual to hear the crys coming through the forest as they learned to swing out over the trees and chase one another through the understory.

On several occasions one wandered over the Kingfisher location. Dad would sit in on a branch in an open area and call very loudly and make lots of wing and tail flourishes. I concluded it was as much a warning for his young to take cover or at least be aware of the danger, as it perhaps was to attract the Sparrowhawk’s attention. Depending on the threat level, sometimes he would land on a branch under some leaves, and make himself very thin, and point his beak skyward, almost vertically. He could hold that pose for several minutes until the danger had flown off further along the river.

I only saw one of the young adopt the same pose, but as they were so spread out most of the time, it was impossible to locate them all at one time.

By the end of three weeks, the young were pretty much independent, and became harder to find. Eventually we had to conclude they had moved away from the nursery area and our time with them was over for the season.

I have one more post to make next week, mostly portraits, as we had lots of opportunities of the young landing close or hunting and sitting nearby to eat.

Enjoy.

We arrived one morning and scanned about the nest. No adult flying in, but that could have been normal. So. We waited. Time, did go by. About an hour infact before we both acknowledged that they were no longer tending the nest.
A quick look around the nearby trees, did not find any sign of young, nor of either adult.
We crossed over the small depression that acted as a water overflow in flood, and looked further down the forest.
Finally, a flash of blue in one of the tallest of the River Red Gums.
And, way, way, way up high was a smaller golden and blue bird. They had managed to get at least one off.
Much too high for good photos, so we went back to waiting.

The time between feeds stretched out to from 20 to 30 minutes. There was no need for the little bird to fly down, and so, it didn’t.

The long wait between food could have been explained if there was at least one other young one somewhere, but look as we might. To no avail.

A call from one of the adults and the little one zipped out of the tree and across to where the food was waiting. Then suitably stocked up, it flew further down the forest, and we followed.
This time is was a little above head height and we held back to see if it would be fed.

It amused itself by preening and trying to manipulate a stick it had broken from the branch.
Eventually Dad returned with a morsel and things seemed to be going well.

We left, still wondering after all those food supplies that went into the nest, if there might not be more than one. A solution didn’t seem to be forth coming.

Here is a selection from several days on the wing.

Enjoy