Mostly we think of Swamp Harriers as pretty serious birds, going about their serious business and always on the look out for the next meal.
So we were a bit taken back to find a couple of Swamp Harriers, engaged, in what can only be described as games.
It’s often seen among the Whistling Kites and Black-shouldered Kites, but Swamp Harriers seem to be very much the solo bird.
These two took it seemed great delight in working the air, and making passes at one another. They remained at it for at least 10 minutes, and stayed around the river edges, so we were able to follow them along for much of the time. In the end, both swept away, to see what they could find among the ducks now congregating along the ponds.
Had a trip up to the family acres.
No trip that far and yet so close to Goschen can be let go without a side journey down to this great little area.
Goschen Roadside Reserve has gained among the birding fraternity something of a ‘honeypot’ status. And it seems with good reason.
Isolated as it is from the wetlands down the road at Lake Boga and surrounded by wheat paddocks on every side, the little handkerchief of land wedged next to a road junction, provides both a home and a welcome stop over for many species. Continue reading “Venturing into the ‘Hood’. Hooded Robin that is”→
I jest about writing a book on getting some good photos of these most fascinating and elusive creatures.
They have absolutely no tolerance for humans. And I beleive they have the area mapped and anything that wasn’t there on the last pass, is either a food opporunity or danger to be avoided.
++++ Editorial Note: This was written back in May 2016, due to complicated circumstances, (if you will) I had let its publication slide. Enjoy. ++++++
One of the most endearing myths surrounds the Search for the “Grail”. This mysterious cup that is the hero’s quest.
Joseph Campbell, is one of my favourite authors and while I don’t always concur with his conclusions, his insight into the depths of myth and legend always intrigues me.
One such story is the Hero’s Journey. A story that is played out over and over in old Hebrew texts, Chinese history, Indian legends, South American dramas, and innumerable other historical stories. And into modern-day novel such as Dan Brown’s “Da Vinci Code”
Simplified it’s “Local Hero—(ine) makes Good”.
Somewhere the legend becomes intertwined with knights bold of old and ends up as justification for the wholesale slaughter that was inflicted during the Crusades, in search of the now “Holy Grail” the cup that held the crucified Messiah blood.
Campbell writes it best as the story of Sir Perceval, although there are lots of previous versions going well back into the Dark Ages of Europe.
Still.
Sir Perceval, is off on his Quest. His is the journey to visit the wasteland, (Joyce devotees take note {++ Ed Note: I was thinking of Ulysses, here, but as Cheryl rightly points out the reference probably belongs more to T.S. Eliot++}), of a certain king, sometimes called the Fisher King who is the possessor of the Grail. Giver of Eternal life. This dude is crippled, variously described as from battle or curse, and the ‘grail’ keeps him alive. He not only has the cup, but is wont to hand out helpful advice and wisdom to any who would enter his realm (Aside— I’ve often pondered if he was so smart and wise how come his kingdom was a wasteland and his subjects abject suffering wretches— but let’s not let detail get in the way of a good story)
Sir Perc, is supposed to ask the magic question, but of course his chivalrous upbringing, (or lack of) means he can’t do that, so he misses out on the prize. Now banished he too must walk his own wasteland. (I do see a picture building up here).
Before your eyes glaze over, he returns, retrieves the grail, heals the king, the land and puts out the cat and makes toast. On ya Perc, good afternoon’s work.
(Aside: always wanted to write it that way for my term paper on Myth and Symbol, but figured a pass was better than a laugh).
Which brings Sir Perceval, that is the name of our little grey car, on its quest to the Wasteland of the Western Treatment Plant in search of “The Grail”.
On board Sir Perc are EE, Mr An Onymous and your erstwhile writer. The Grail is “White-bellied Sea-eagle”
There are several of these amazing birds at work over the Treatment Plant ponds. The amount of duck on the water is fairly easy picking for a well-trained Sea-eagle, and these dudes are well trained. (Even without the Fisher King’s help, they know fishing)
Yet.
Finding one in a good location, and up-close and personal, has always been a problem for Perc and contents. EE had a plan, not the first you are reminded, but none the less a plan. Mr An Onymous had the lens ready and a theory for everything. And me. I was looking for birds.
We entered the track alongside the Little River, being allowed access by the “Gate Keeper”, Little Pied Cormorant who is often at work near the gate.
Onwards
Two Whistling Kites departed from the Specimen Tree, and were away before a lens was pointed. On to the Japan Tree. This lovely tree has featured here on the blog and on my Flickr site regularly. A tree of a thousand poses, it sits on the edge of the causeway over Little River.
I spotted it in the tree.
Grey and white in the sunshine.
I slowed Sir Perc and stopped. Each looked about. “Not much here- as usual”.
“What about the Sea-eagle,” I reply.
“Oh it would be so good if we saw one somewhere along the track today, ” reply.
“Well what about that one up in the tree,” saith I.
“Yeah, that would be a good spot”
“It’s there on the left-hand side.”
Brains click into gear, doors open, cameras start to bundle images onto memory cards.
“It’s tough light here,” add I, “I’m going to take the car to the other side of the causeway.”
Meanwhile, I’m adding up the possibilities.
Move to other side of causeway.
Light better.
Not hidden among tree branches
Bird will throw if I move the car
If bird throws from this side it will be into the light and we’ll get silhouettes.
Walking about will make it throw.
Take the risk.
So, Sir Perceval moves over to the far side of the causeway. I think I heard the Fisher King groaning.
Bird is relaxed. Goodo—out of the car, setup the lens, beanbag on roof, line up shot, check exposure, make more shots.
Change camera to the shorter lens. — Mistake. Note to self. Only take one camera/lens combo next time.
The light is about as good as it gets, the pose is as regal as they come and the memory card is still taking in the images.
Then
It ruffles the wings, and I can only say, under my breath, “It’s about to throw”, to no one in particular, and before I can change back to the longer lens, it’s airborne. No time to put up the big camera. Mutter under breath about senility.
And
It throws out into the open, pulls the big wings about, and comes directly into the sunshine. No time to ponder correct exposure now, this is what we came for.
“Well, we can go back for coffee now”, I announce. But the others are ‘chimping’ at the review screens on the camera. Y’know, head down, arms waving, “Oh, oh, oh”
Not a bad morning’s work. The Sir Perc of Old would be happy.
Enjoy
The Gate Keeper “Who dares enter here?”First sighting. Lost among the branchesThat was the view I was looking forElegance has a formWing ruffle, its time to go.Beginning to stretch the wingsCoiled and ready to unwindStepping out, wing driving to the leftSuccesful launchAnd against the best backdrop sky
I’ve made it a bit smaller pdf, so don’t go viewing it on the 30″monitor and expecting hi res. Cause ‘taint there. Mostly to conserve my limited WP space.
“the occurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way”
The weather map showed a large high stalled over us for most of the day. “Let’s do an evening at the Western Treatment Plant”, saith, I. “We could take down the picnic, and have a fine old evening watching the sunset over the bay, and maybe photograph a few birds, and well, just enjoy the evening sea breeze. What thinkest thou?”.
A call to Mr An Onymous, and the famed, and legendary “Blackmobile” was on the highway loaded with his fine repast. EE and I decided on a Peri-Peri Chicken Salad, and a round of Earl of Grey.
Went to visit the Jacky Nursery last evening.
Both parents are busy looking after the two fledglings, now ensconced in separate trees. One little dude had chosen to fly in and land in a tree that White-plumed Honeyeaters consider “their territory”.
I’ve made the statement before that Jacky Winter are birds that have stolen my heart.
They are not the most startling of colour, nor do they seem to have a particular outstanding feature that makes them a special bird. They used to carry the unfortunate name, “Lesser Fascinating Bird”, so that should be a hint as to how we’ve seen them in the past.
But
They have a pleasant nature, and don’ t seemed too fussed by us humans. And once they have id’d us, they seem to settle into tolerance bordering on disdain.
We were in the You Yangs some weeks back and it was casually mentioned, “Oh, I saw a Jacky Winter down near the old school building”, as in— well that ticked Lesser Fascinating Bird off my list, have you seen anything important? It was enough to make me stop on the way out and scout around.
Been meandering through Julieanne Kost’s “Passenger Seat” folio book. Julieanne is a product evangelist for Adobe Lightroom, (and having been one of them product evangellies in me time, I am a bit sympathetic to start with),
But Julieanne is quite a creative, and very visually expressive photographer. As she says in the introduction, “meeting with others continually opens my eyes to what’s possible.” and that is why we share stuff I guess.
Took a stroll tonight to look for the little lone Wagtail of my previous post. A bit harder to find as its well on the wing.
So turned to go back for a fine cuppa of Earl of Grey with EE, my favourite person.
As I passed by the old tree that had held the nest, I stopped just to see how dilapidated it would have become in the past few days.
Double take Time !!!
Was that a tail I saw on the nest. Stop, rub eyes, look again.
Yes.
She has added a new coat of web to the nest, set up the wide-screen tv, remodelled the Kitchen, and laid eggs and was about to do her part for Wagtail lineage.
In what must be about the fastest turn-around between clutches, this lady means business. No doubt they’ve figured that one can sit the eggs, while one administers the young fledgling to maturity.
And if the nest worked once. Well!!!
This time I refrained from yelling my best advice across the paddock to her. Including the fact the next few days are going to be in the high 30s C. I don’t think she considers it good wagtail advice.
Time will tell how it all goes.
Nicely setteled in. The next addtion to the family is on the way. Persistence and Patience have your way.
When it comes to nesting and bringing on a new clutch, Willie Wagtails seem to go from one extreme to another, in more ways than one.
The weather can take a turn and dash the plans of quite a number of nesting pairs. And around the Werribee River area at the Office, they all seem to start within a day or two of each other and a change of weather takes out most of the nests. That has happened once already this season.
Plucky little birds, just shake off the wet feathers, take a wagtail deep breath and start again.
Now that Kitty and Kalev-the Brave, have their two young on the wing things get a bit more interesting.
Learning to be a Black-shouldered Kite is not a copy book exercise. There are lots of practical things to be considered as they develop not only their wing power, but also their ability to read the wind, find mice, learn to hunt, how to hover, and the myraid other things that are needed to make a Black-shouldered Kite successful.
Among those things are off course the ability to sit very quietly and unobtrusively on a perch. The thinner the better it seems.
Astute reader that you are, and having followed along from the beginning of this blog, will recall that I originally all those years back set it up to document the comings and goings of Red-capped Robins at Woodlands Historic Park.
As the years have gone, things have changed, and among them of course, our move away from the area.
So when we travel back that way we are more or less tourists.
Where once we had a fine almost family familiarity with a number of Red-capped Robin pairs, and were as familiar with each of their territories as they were, today we are just interlopers in their front yard.
Over the past few weeks along the river area at Werribee River Park, (The Office), we’ve been waiting for the Willie Wagtails to get into their nesting season.
Normally quick off the rank for a bout of nesting, the Wagtails around The Office seem to have been particularly slow in making the first move.
Not that I blame them, as about 8 pairs we worked with last year, built a nest early, and were washed out with rain. They rebuilt, only to have a second storm cell come though about a fortnight later and once again wash them off the branches. After a couple of weeks they started again, and as luck would have it, a third storm ripped through and again devastated their efforts. By the fourth clutch, we were well into summer and most seemed to raise this round. At one stage there were over 30 young juveniles all flitting about together as mum and dad worked on a fifth clutch.
This year, they seem to have taken the approach: Wait till the storm season is behind us.
And about two weeks back, we were thrilled to hear the nesting call of as many as 8-10 pairs as they worked away building in various locations from highly concealed among the leaves, to desperate, out in the open. Nothing is going to get us.
But.
Birds as Poetry —— Just because I WANDER doesn't mean I'm LOST 