Birds as Poetry —— Just because I WANDER doesn't mean I'm LOST
Just because I WANDER doesn't mean I'm LOST
All good tales have a protagonist and of course the antagonist. From Romeo and Juliet to Jane Eyre, or a Hitchcock movie, the ‘player of the first part’, has always to experience the consequences of decisions.
So as our hero the Little Eagle made its way across the paddocks in the sunshine, oblivious of the dangers, it was soon to learn that not all skies are clear, blue and free.
Continue reading “SnapShots: The Account of The Magpie and the Little Eagle”
You can tell, dear reader, when its a quiet birding day. And that I’m down at the Point Cook Coastal Park. When the tide is in, the cormorants, Little Pied and Pied mostly, congregate on an old abandoned pier that orginally served the first Chirnside Homestead in the area.
Now it’s a shadow of its former self, but regularly used by water birds as a safe haven for resting, preening and establishing relationships.
And when there are no other birds on show, well, I settle down on the sand, and watch the comings and goings. Always some new thing to see.
Continue reading “SNAPSHOTS: Landing Rights at Cormorant Jetty”
Yep, I know they are Pied Lark. But, ever since I was a little tacker, I’ve been impressed with Muddies—as we used to be allowed to call them. I think there is an affinity between a young lad, and a bird that makes its stand in a tiny puddle of muddy water alongside the roadway.
I really want to get a shot of a pair engaged in their wingflap/flare pair-bonding call. But I’ve also been following them for such a long time to get a respectable wing shape in flight.
Tis the season for young muddies to show off among their peers and it does make it a little easier to get a close fly past.
We came across a group working over a roadway, and I walked down the fence line to where a female was sitting. All I had to do was wait till it flew.
Females have the black line down through the eye. Males have a white eyebrow and no white bib.
What I didn’t anticipate was what happened next.
After yesterday’s relatively quiet day, we had planned a day at home as those weather prognosticators were falling over themselves combing their various thesauri for even more gigantic, huge, colossal, mammoth, immense, tremendous, immeasurable, Brobdingnagian(Ye of Gulliver’s Travels will understand), humongous, astronomic, ginormous words to describe what was to be a weather of mass destruction, headed our way, so we had decided that it would be a doonah day, and we’d sleep through it all. The patter of rain on the roof and window shutters seemed for once to confirm their cosmic, epic, giant, stupendous, mega predictions.
However as I peeked out from under the protective, shielding, defensive, safety, preventive, insulating, warmth of the doonah, what was it I spied coming in under the window shutters.
Gasp, horror, elation, joy, disbelief. Was that sunshine.
No prizes Sherlock. It was sunshine.
In quick succession t’was breakfast, pack cameras, (I think there should be a get dressed in there somewhere) pack a thermos of Green Tea, (I’m off the Grey of Earl at present), tuck in the Drizabone Jacket, and head to the Office. Also we beat the Mother’s School run, so the roads were fairly, rather, a little, slightly, comparatively, after a fashion, reasonably, kind of, sort of ish, quiet.
But the wind across the carpark sang a different tune. Large gusts, of huge, colossal, mammoth, immense, tremendous…. you get the picture… winds that made even the Drizabone Jacket feel a bit challenged.
And what was that on the fence line up the track!
It says something about the whole day in general when, we set out to find some Flame Robins at Point Cook Coastal Park, and end up spending half an hour with a single Pink-eared Duck.
The plan was to have a look around the old homestead area and see if we could locate any Flame Robins that usually turn up for their winter holiday at the beach. And if we were really lucky, perhaps a Pink Robin, or two—that would be nice.
We met Bernie the ranger on the way in, and he (of the sharp eye), said he’d not seen the usual suspects so far this season.
So we went.
It was one of those mornings when I looked out the window when I got out of bed and it looked clear. No Wind.
Bonus. Didn’t take long to work out what to do. Check again, just in case. Yep, no sun up yet. Crisp twinkling stars set against a perfect black velvet setting. Good to be alive.
Mind, most of the apprehension of the morning was based on dire predictions of Noahic proportion winds and rain from the weather prognosticators on the telly the previous evening. But most times they leave me amazed at the amount of descriptive words that can be used to create fear and despair among the masses, when it comes to describing the following day’s weather.
So we went.
Ahh, dear reader. Bet you didn’t expect so soon an update 🙂
Chatting, as I usually do with my current mentor, and it was suggested, that the challenge of writing a full page blog with scintillating patter that is both cogent and helpful may only be causing the blog, well, to blog down. Err bog down.
So welcome to a new addition to the world of blogging at Birds as Poetry. Snapshots
Snapshots will be a quick collection of shots from a given event or location. Not a lot of pretty patter, but rather just the images to do the talking. After all that is what I really do best.
That leaves, Postcards to be a bit more in-depth on either an event, or more likely an encounter with one or two birds.
Then Studiowerkz will carry on doing the in-depth photographic detail from a shoot. Kind of the ‘Day Book’ of photography of yore. Interestingly enough we concluded that a photo might get a boost in Snapshots, the pop up in Postcards, and finally make an appearance in Studiowerks with info on the whole studio-like encounter.
Then there will be those times when verbal virtuosity takes hold of me and the muse connects with the spirit of the universe and the words literally write themselves and I can wax lyrical about happenings of all sorts of birding activity. Expect to see Sea-eagle pics in that one.
Well we’ll see.
So here is Snapshots.
And an important one it is.
EE and I did a trip to “The Office” this afternoon. Had a particular Australasian Darter and a probable nest site as our goal.
But when we arrived in the carpark, the first thing we noted were Flame Robins!
I’m getting tired of starting each post with,”Its been quite awhile since I uploaded a new page.” And even if I wasted half a page explaining the ins and outs of the delays, let’s face it, like apathy, no one cares. 🙂
The problem for me with a blog like this is if I don’t get the time on the day, then several go by, and a new project has emerged and the blog is left in the dust.
So, just as well I decided to send postcards!
EE and I took advantage of the early morning sunshine and headed to the You Yangs. Couple of things stood out for us. We’d been discussing the fact that neither of us had made any reasonable shots of Scarlet Robins for quite a long while. Not just because we were spending time in the wrong areas, but well, the birds had been around either.
So you might well imagine, (if you will), our delight, surprise and excitement when we pulled into the carparking area and had to shoo a pair of Scarlets out of the way so we could park the vehicle. Gotta think a day when the birds meet you in the carpark is going to be a good day.
****** If you have an aversion to Silver Gulls, or stories about Silver Gulls, then ClickAway NOW. You have been warned.**********
We have just returned from a few days ‘holiday’ down the coast. Accommodation within walking distance of the beach, in the company of some friends from our village.
The smell of sea air, the splash of the waves, all very rejuvenating. These days I’m not a great swimmer, would have once, thought it just the best way to spend a holiday, tearing up and down the beach, rolling in the waves, getting sand in between my toes, and going home with a dripping towel. And an ice-cream. Let’s be practical, a great day out.
But these days, I’m much more inclined to watch it all happen.
As it turned out the bay we were staying near was quite wide, and very shallow for much of the day. The waves must run in from both points and wash the sand into the middle of their force, and a lovely inverted “Y” sand bar has formed between the forces. I went down to look.
The tide was at low-level, and there was only a few centimeters, (inches) of water washing over the bar. It ranged in width from a few metres close in, to around 15 or more further out, then tapered down again at the end of the bar.
The enclosed part of the “Y”, of course was closed in by the beach proper, and the water in the pool of the “Y”, was only being replenished by the gentle wash of the wavelets over the sandbar, and was being warmed by the sunshine.
Too much fun. So off came the shoes and socks, up rolled the trousers and wading into the luke warm water was, I must admit, enjoyable.
One of the more visited areas at the Western Treatment Plant is the “T-Section”. Among its notable areas is the aptly named, “Crake Pool”, it’s not unusual on any given trip down there, to find at least one, sometimes more, vehicles pulled up in the open areas near the pool, hoping to catch a glimpse of the many crakes that inhabit the area.
Just a little further along the road and a small pile of rocks in the middle of the pond usually has a share of waterbirds, or waders loafing in the sunshine.
So you might well imagine our suprise the other day to see a pair of enterprising Black Swan had taken over the rocks, and built what can only be thought of as Swan Hilton, securely among the rocks.
Hope you survived the little tirade in the last post. All is forgiven.
EE and I thought, based on the last couple of adventures to The Office, that we needed to make a quick looksee if the Black-shouldered Kites had settled.
Many will remember Kitty and Kalev (The Brave), and their nesting attempts over the last couple of seasons.
They are fairly tolerant, and as she makes some of the best, most secretive nests, the chances of interrupting her on nest are pretty slim. And he has no problems about bringing mice in for her virtually above our sit spot.
So it was with a bit of an expectant parent looksee, that we turned up on a mostly cloudy day and looked around the carpark. And there they were, clever pair, way down the range, and out of camera reach.
“Perhaps he’ll come over to hunt along the river edge,” says she. So we meandered on along the river bank.
Not much of a subject really in a bird blog. Is it?
For quite awhile I’ve had a disclaimer on this blog of our birding practice(s).
I’ve been challenged, (accused is too strong a word-but you have to sit in my seat to appreciate the difference), that we (EE and I) take ‘liberties’ with the birds we photograph.
Here is the summary of what I’ve said previously.
Addendum: Just to be very clear. These birds are not baited, called in, or in anyway interfered with. We don’t use: hides, camo gear nor setup stations. We mostly sit, and work for acceptance. We are simply recording the activities of a very relaxed and completely confident bird. We strive for connection and if a bird exhibits any ‘stress’, we leave it in peace. No photo is worth stressing the bird.
Now you know!
Long term readers will be familiar with my quotes from Jon Young’s “What the Robin Knows!”. Short version Jon Young strives for and encourages “Connectedness”.
“One day I will see a bird and a thin thread will form between me and the bird. If I just see it and don’t recognise it, no thread is formed. If I go again and again, the thread is strengthened each time. It will eventually grow in to a string, then a cord, then a rope. This is what it means to be a Bushman, we make ropes of connection to all aspects of the creation” Introduction, page xxv.
We strive to keep that connectedness, in some very special instances the birds respond in a most enchanting way. For those, we are able to raise great stories.
Brad Hill, is a Canadian photographer, and I follow his work regularly.
He has posted recently posted a timely “Code of Ethics for Bird Photographers”. Thought you might like a different perspective. See it here http://www.naturalart.ca/voice/photography_ethics.html
Oh, and here is a bird that had developed connectedness with me.
Her name was Primrose. A lovely female Red-capped Robin at Woodlands. Most days as we walked past, she would deliberately come out for a visit.
The header photo is from the Kestrel Series and there are several blog posts back a year or two about that extended moment. Her name was Elizabeth— Jane Austin fans will understand.
Keep takin’ photos. We do.
Flow with whatever may happen and let your mind be free. Stay centered by accepting whatever you are doing. This is the ultimate. Chuang Tzu
We’d been sitting quietly for awhile. Infact long enough to enjoy at least one cuppa and think longingly for the Thermos for a second.
It’s the You Yangs. Near the old, now unused, Duckponds School building. We were making one last session at finding the Jacky Winter pair and to see what the Eastern Yellow Robins were up to.
And.
To tell all the truth. Not much. Yep, that’s it. Little, a void, devoid, uninhabited. Departed, moved on, relocated.
And its been like that for quite awhiles. Many of the more productive spots we’ve been visiting, have been, well, decidedly UNproductive.
I knew there were White-winged Choughs on the other side of the main road, as their calls were quite clear.
“Forget the years, forget distinctions. Leap into the boundless and make it your home!” ― Zhuangzi
Here’s a quick one as I’m still smiling after watching it happen
Take two Purple-crowned Lorikeets in preening mode. Have one of them decide that its more fun on the other side of the branch.
Imagine (if you will), it can fly across to the new spot.
But.
Our hero of the moment takes a much more direct approach. Had I but known this would have been so much more fun to see in video.
Enjoy
Nothing like a preen and a wingstretch to build a pair bond
Continue reading “Purple-crowned Lorikeet: The Art of the Impossible”
Birds as Poetry —— Just because I WANDER doesn't mean I'm LOST 