We have had good numbers of Hoary-headed Grebes at a number of locations over the past few months. Not that we don’t see them regularly, just the large numbers are quite unusual. Some ponds at the Treatment Plant have had 30-40 birds on occassions.
We were at the T-Section area, and in the pond near where we’d parked IamGrey, it was hard not to notice the 15-20 or so Hoary-headed Grebes all swimming about together.
What turned out to be unusual was they all drifted down to the far end of the pond on a strong breeze, and then with a hop, skip and a jump, they launched themselves into the air and flew the 150m or so to the other end of the pond, drifted back and flew again.
It is most unusal to see any grebe airborne, so this was particularly intruiging. The books tend to say that “they fly at night”, but I suspect that is because no one sees them in daylight, and the conclusion is obvious, “I haven’t seen grebes flying in daylight, so…. They must fly at night”
These ones, obviously hadn’t read that book. And they continued to repeat the performance I’ve also been told, on reasonable authority, that Grebes tend to lose the ability to fly the longer they are in a permanent pond. Some Little Aussie battlers can have several seasons in the same pond, and if the theory is correct, then the wing muscles etc, must atrophy and they are for all intents, flightless.
And the Hoary-headed continued to drift up the pond and then fly back. Presumably they were using the rather strong wind blowing down the pond to help get lift. We began to wonder if they were perhaps getting some training in to re-develop the flight muscles
We stayed in the area for a couple of hours and to our surprise when we checked, just as we were leaving, there were only a couple of Grebes still in the pond. The rest had flown!
And of course we missed that. Often see them sitting in the ponds and doing a wing-stretch and conclude that those wings aren’t all that big for such a small bird. But, stretched out in flight they obviously get enough lift. With those little stuck-on legs dangling out behind. Enjoy
Long time readers will no doubt be having “Dejavu Feelings” or as Yogi Beera once said, “”It’s like déjà vu all over again.”“
As 2024 rolls around, I’ve taken on a new writing mentor. One of their first challenges was: To write something new everday. Or photograph something new every day. As a long time collector of little snippets of quotes and snippets from a range of souces, i guess I felt the time was right to settle to a schedule of both journalling, to see where that might take me, and to have a goal of a new page here on the blog. One of the things Saturday Evening Post was helpful to me over the covid years was an outlet for the difficulty of being locked out of travelling to our normal birding sites. Perhaps it was a bit cathartic, and I do apologise toward the end of the series as all the ‘stream of conciousness’ stuff started to dominate.
So my intention this time round is to stay to the job in hand. An image that has been recently shot, and perhaps a little about the moment. I was asked, the other day, by a health care professional, about a response I’d made to a question, “How did you get involved in photography?” What concerned me in my response, was that the question seemed to seperate a number of related things. My life’s work, my current body of work, my desire to be out in the field, to document and journal the lives of various birds we encounter, the reason I’d rather take a photograph than make watercolours. And a myriad of other things. Seemed that the question was about pigeon-holing the photography, when to be honest it is the raison d’etre.
My next comment was to have them go to the web, enter Birdaspoetry, and when they saw what a body of work contained, then the reason for the question faded away. All my creative life is about words and pictures. (We used to publish a series of articles for a number of magazines under that by-line in another galaxy far, far away.) More discussion is only commentary.
EE and I made a run to the Western Treatment Plant on Friday evening. It was going to be cloudless and the tide was a low, low tide. (Is there a technical term for that? … edit> Called Spring Tides, from the concept of the tide “springing forth.” ain’t Google wonderful!)
The mudflats would extend out in some places 200-300m and we might get some shorebird activity. But of course the real reason was—that late in the evening, golden, raking, light spilling over the subjects, for great colour and impressive shadows to build a feeling of depth.
This is not driving about putting money into the coffers of the OPEC nations. It’s sitting, contemplating and as Ming Thien has said: “If you are waiting for something to happen to get a shot, you must be hyper vigilant at all times until you can no longer stand it or have your concentration broken for you: because the minute you turn away, …what you’ve been waiting for will happen”
Then. The Little Egret wafted across the sand bar and landed in the shallow tidal pool in front of us. YAHADDABETHERE!
The big question is whether you are going to be able to say a hearty yes to your adventure. – Joseph Campbell
There is something quite distinctive about a Magpie’s call to warn of raptors in the area. It would be a fascinating study to plot the soundscape and work out some of the subtle variations. For instance, the main call is short and agitated. Yet depending on the level of danger, there are differences in delivery. A Kite circling somewhere over Argentina, is called by a Maggie out on the paddock here, more as an ‘headsup’ for it family and near neighbours. A Swamp Harrier working its way along the lower fence line a kilometre away might get a variation of the call, indicating a more serious warning. A Falcon working through a close treeline, will be given even more attention, more regularly and a much sharper and shrill call. And so it goes. A raptor resting in a tree, while the family is still fleldging young, is really at risk of evoke the ire of the family, and the entire clan. And many short sharp calls will eventually move the raptor into the open. So when I hear those calls going out, it is often wise to stop and consider where the raptor(s) might be. As my Tai Chi instructor rightly pointed out, ““If you can practice even when distracted, you are well trained.”
It’s not so unusual for birdwatchers, and bird photographers to be a little closely tuned to the changes of bird calls. Those that have followed this blog for a long while will know I regularly quote Jon Young. Jon, is a US native tracker and trainer. His book, “What the Robin Knows” has lead me on a number of discoveries of bird language.
Yet, in spite of all that, sometimes even the obvious escapes. I was alone on the beach area at Point Cook, EE had checked the beach, declared there was no sign of the young Falcons we were looking for and headed back up the paddock toward the new growth pines.
As I turned back off the beach, I heard the familiar “pip, pip pip” piping of Oystercatchers in the air. I looked along the beach in the direction of the call, but could not discern any shapes that matched. Darn Cartaracts! I’ve got to go get them looked at! Then I spotted a largish flock of 20 or more heading my way, and all bunched up, and quite close to the water. A little unusal, but I made some frames as they sped past. Suddenly they were followed by several skenes of assorted Cormorants, all equally in a hurry to be somewhere. Perhaps the fish were in on the low tide? And just as quickly a couple of largish flocks of teal and black duck. These birds were not on a seaside excursion looking at the scenery. They needed to be somewhere else, and looked for all the world like they should have already been there.
“Something has put them up,” I exclaimed to no one in particular, and as there was no one else on the beach near me, it was just as well.
Next a motley collection of Silver Gulls also went by in a straight line. “Something has put them up,” I concluded. The little bay where all this happened is quite shallow at low tide, it’s possible to walk out 150-250 metres and never get your knees wet. There had been, I’d noted earlier some people around the point wading in the water, and thought, perhaps they ventured just that little too far out and the birds objected.
Looking along the beach line, the swimmers and waders had left the area. So I wondered, out loud, to no one in particular, “Perhaps a Kite has put them up or maybe a Falcon?”
And on a start, there was a shape just above the waterline. Heading down the beach toward me. I didn’t worry any more about the cataracts. ”It’s a Sea-eagle”. ”No wonder everybody is on the move!”
It was a juvenile bird and swept down the beachline in no particular hurry. It’s luncheon options had already disappeared way behind me. Came over my head, swung inland made a subtle U turn and landed on the tallest tree on the shore line. It could probably see to Argentina from up there.
Excitedly, I dialed EE to tell her of the good news and the option to come see.
Now, here is another strange thing in this digital age of mass and urgent communication. Any text message, from family, friends, lunch meetings, coffee gatherings, junk mail, spam, sales offers from Rivers or Rockmans, and of course the occassional scam text, are answered and replied to ‘instantly”
An important message, “Hey, I’ve got a Sea-eagle on a tree on the beach, come see” is ignored. Go Figure.
So the Sea-eagle and I settled to our roles. Eagle, to look majestic and stay perched. Me, try and get the best angle. The pictures tell the rest of the story.
(PS) and EE did eventually get the message and turn up, just before the bored Sea-eagle decided that the fishing was better further along the beach.
Enjoy
Pied Oystercatcher in tight formationYou can almost hear it humming as it casually came down the beachlineBig turn toward the shore lineHardly a wing flap Sailing over my headBest viewpoint in the areaTime to GoHeading out
The trees and gardens around the nearby beach park date to the time of the first settlers in the area. They had obtained rights to farm huge areas of the Port Philip Bay area and began to build a life-style to rival their English heritage.
Part of that incluced the planting of a range of pine trees, some must be over 100 years or more. The close spacing of the pines as wind-breaks has resulted in some fine nesting locations for a range of raptors. Over the years we’ve had: Black-shouldered, Whistling and Black Kites in the area. For several seasons a pair of Spotted Harrier were in residence and they used the surrounding open paddocks that are covered in thick bracken as resting spots out of sight of the world. Australian Hobbys have also chosen a few spots. And at present a pair of Collared Sparrowhawk have recently completed their clutch.
The Queen of the Area is a Brown Falcon, Cassia of Cinnamon, and her handsome light morph beau, Alistair.
But all this brings heavy pressure on the birds as each wants the best opportunities for their young to be fed. So it’s not unusual to see swooping, name calling and direct attacks occuring from time to time. And its not all one-sided. Depending on the development of each clutch depends on who is the aggressor.
However the other day an added complexity to the mix. The Sparrowhawks have successfully fledged two young birds. They are a month or more ahead of the Falcons, and so have reign of the treeline at present. And being young birds with highly developed flying skills and a little bit of juvenile team work, they decided that the lone perched Cassia, of Cinnamon would be a bit of a game.
She has claimed the tallest of the Umbrella Pines as her lookout, over the paddocks for food, out further for the returning Alistair and a direct line of site to the precious nest location.
The two young Sparrowhawks took umbrage she should be in their area and settled into a name of game calling out in the open, from a nearby old tree. Then in a series of planned attacks they launched at her. Nothing she couldn’t handle, but the action did get pretty hot.
Enjoy
Cassia, of Cinnamon readies for a close passHigh Speed RunLots of front on dashes.Both birds would want to avoid a contact if possible. But, you never can tell with Sparrowhawks.Name calling from a nearby tree.Ready for the next pass
Well if nothing else, the ground is getting a fair old drenching. Keeping your Downwardly Mobile scribe inside too.
But the wet weather has certainly played its magic across the Crake and Rail communities.
We have been over the past few weeks monitoring a pair of Willie Wagtails that have set up a nest in a tree in the foyer area of a local Uni gym.
Sunday morning on the way home, we picked up a sandwich and some coffee and headed for said gym carpark. The weather was overcast, but not threatening, so we were going to use one of the picnic tables on the gym lawn for lunch.
Normally, I’d stop, EE would walk across the lawn and I’d park IamGrey and head back. But the lawn was little minature lakes, so it seemed best to stop at the ‘drier’ carpark.
Oh, she said, look a Coot has it two little young ones out in the grass. And sure enough, and who dear reader would argue with that observation. Click, click, click from that side of the vehicle.
I looked out and saw, just in front of the bonnet, another Coot, and thought, Oh, its a bit seperate from the family, until it cocked its head, and lo, it was a Buff-banded Rail.
Now its nigh on impossible to get a photographer to change from photographing one subject to taking interest in something more interesting. And with fear that I’d frighten the Rail, I backed the car ever slowly about 10m. Then, of course EE spied it and the door of the IamGrey slowly began to open. My camera was securely in the back, so I slipped along the edge to retrieve it, knowing full well that the bird will have taken the hint and fled. But this one was a calm as they come. Sunday morning at the gym, no other people around, it felt pretty comfortable.
It foraged quite near us, then scampered back into the reeds, to emege again down near the table where we’d adjourned to have lunch and contemplate our fortunate state at seeing it so well.
It strolled about the path, then into the grass and about 10 minutes later slipped away, to come out again and let us ‘creep’ quietly up on it. Cool as.
In the end, time ran out, but the Rail was still going.
Was hoping to post these on Flickr, but for some reason, my Flickr account has been hijacked to another user id. So all I get to see is their pictures and contacts. So until I feel comfortable with Flickr again, most of the next couple of weeks shall be here on the blog. Hopefully won’t bore you with too many stories and same pics. Couple of interesting developments in the field at present.
I’ve had several email me and say that the Flickr photos are getting up, but I can’t see or comment on any at all. They tell me my Flickr Stream needs a complete rebuild and may take “Some hours depending on the size of the photos, and links.” I’ll get over it. 🙂
A Buff-banded Rail at the GymI think this is the only time it actually looked in our directionTasty morsels for the pickingsAbout to scamper into its little Railie hideawayHigh stepping through the wet grassThe grasses gave it plenty of opportunity A very relaxed bird
In my new Downwardly Mobile role, we stayed around the Crake Pond area at WTP for the rest of the morning. Not only were the Crakes out and about but also quite a number of other usual suspects.
Highlight was some Black-tailed Native-hens. Another bird that I rarely see and the first time ever a this location.
I also spent some time with several large flocks of Whiskered Terns, hoping, perhaps a bit too much that there might be some White-winged Blacks among them. But not this day. Means another trip should be on the cards.
Here is a few of the morning’s finds.
Enjoy
Whiskered TernBlack-tailed Native-hen and a small part of the Crake Pool areaBlack-tailed Native-henDusky Moorhen in ColourLittle Grassbird. An enigmatic and very seldom seen in the open little birdGreat Egret. I love to watch how slowly they can move. Sometimes its imperceptibleAn Austrlaian Reed Warbler came out to challenge my clossup picture skillsWhite-necked Heron. We’ve seen this one in the same location for seveal weeks now so the fishing much be goodBlack Kite. Up close and personal. I’ve opened up the shadow area, and I think its taken the whole nest of a Pipit or Skylark. It turned to land on a post quite near and then stipped out all the grasses
I was writing to Mr An Onymous t’other day about the weather, or lack of it in fine proportions, and lamenting being unable to get out in the wind and the rain.
I mentioned that I’d concluded that I’m no longer a member of the Upwardly Mobile and was rapidly sliding into the Downwardly Mobile. Just seems too hard to get out and about regularly.
Still, there is a lot to be said for quietly sitting. EE has made a science of it and half her magic comes from such experiences, I percieve.
So I thought I must take advantage of such a change in direction and rejig the blog at least one more time. Rather than look for the ‘big’ stories of bird-world/land I might just cover a few pics from one connected set of birds. Which if I recall correctly, (and that you might want to check against para 2 above), was roughly what my journalism instructor(ess) had to say. Write the little stories with insight. The big stories can wait. (In my case they still are!) Well I might have missed her quote a bit, but the intent was the same.
After a week or more of rain, we took an opportunity between all the unimportant life missions we are on, to leave home early and head to just one location. The T-Section at the Western Treatment Plant. And to spend the morning at the “Crake Pool/Pond” For the initiated, it’s easy to find. For those who’ve never been there, its not a pool or a pond, its part of a reed bed that is on the edge of a typical, large, former waste-treatment pond. Yet for some reason, water density, coverage, food, shelter and a host of Crakie sort of things the Baillon’s, Spotted and Spotless seem to favour. Most times they skulk (love that word) about in between the reeds and are hardly seen. At present, all bets are off and they are mostly feeding in the open.
Birders and Photographers have devised some pretty sneaky plans of their own to be able to see the birds without scaring them off. But. In the interests of brevity I’m going to ignore all that at this time.
We parked the car at a junction, walked the 150m or so down to the pool, and there they were. Happy in their litte Crake world and the only thing that seemed to scare them back into the reeds were a few aggressive Australasian Swamphens that kept maurauding across the open areas in pursuit of one another. They’d scare me too.
So here here we are. It’s Rained Crakes.
Australian Spotted CrakeAustralian Spotted CrakeBaillon’s CrakeBaillon’s CrakeBaillion’s Crake: Wiping down the feathersSpotless Crake: Rarely see these anywhere about so this was a high day Spotless Crake: Like a Line from Dire Straits-Romeo and Juliet. Finds the Sunlight, steps out of the ShadeSpotless Crake: It’s not always a winner. Missed the fly in on this one.
So many cliches that could be used as a title for this little series.
We’ve had well over a week of soaking rain. Fortunately not driving heavy rain so many of the nesting birds have been able to deal with it. But, of course some in early stages of hatching with downless young have succumbed.
After a week of sitting in wet trees, eating of the wet ground and flying through the downpours, you’d think your average magpie would be sick of water. But. No!
We ventured out to monitor a few of the nests locally, and managed a bit of a break in the weather with a spot of sunshine coming through. We found this small Magpie family making the most of the bathing facitilies offered in the puddles along the tracks.
Their young one didn’t seem all that keen, but Mum and Dad got right into the business and soaked it all up. I wonder if they were using the gravel to help clean out the underfeathers. They certainly stepped out of the puddle soaking wet. Both made several excursions into the water and then flew to a nearby tree for the shaking out and preening.
Junior had overcome its fears by then and stepped in to the water as well.
And it just goes to show the folk with birdbaths at home, that you should keep them clean no telling what might turn up if there is any muck in the water.
Enjoy.
Splashing Good FunYoungster watching apprehensivelySoaking to the CoreIs it safe?Don’t SplashTime to Join InStirring up the WaterLaying out the Wings
Mr An Onymous has been laid up a bit of late with some eye-surgery. He recieved the all clear from Dr Slice’n’Dice the other day, so we decided on a trip to the Western Treatment Plant to try out his new “eyes”
We had been watching a White-necked Heron feeding in the open grass in one of the ponds, when on a moment, a number of Australasian Swamphens decided to take battle, and the Heron was caught up in the middle of it, and took off. It flew across the pond to a safer and quieter spot.
One bird we seldom see out and about is the Nankeen Night Heron. For a number of years, a small colony roosted in a large pine tree on an access track into the Werribee River Park. Then for some reason, they disappeared for about four years.
Recently we’ve been noticing those lovely rich apricot-tan coloured feathers sprinkled along the track, so it’s always worthwhile checking. Almost all the time, they are high up, and surrounded by as many branches as possible and good looks, let along good photos are pretty difficult.
The last couple of visits we’ve seen around five or six in the tree and several of them are juveniles.
The other morning as we passed by, they seemed very nervous and with a ‘grunt’ took to wing. This suited the Sulphur-crested Cockatoos as it gave them something to chase and complain about. What we didn’t expect was that just about every other tree nearby, also ‘grunted’ and in the end we had as many as 25 Nankeen Night Herons in the air looking for a quiet place away from the Cockatoos.
We continued down along the river edge and found eight to ten had moved down to the river to sit on some of the old trees overlooking the water. Just couldn’t get close, but at least we could say they are in good numbers.
Our most recent outings have all been in the one location at Point Cook Coastal Park. At least three families of young Black-shoudered Kites have been working in the area. As best we’ve been able to count there have been nine young Kites, with at least two of their supervising male adults, one semi-resident male, who has a second clutch on the go and is busy feeding Madeline, and perhaps two or three late juveniles that have started to lose their apricot colouring and take on the rich red eye colour.
Intruiging to walk down a roadway with up to eight or more of them sitting on fence posts all calling and tail-wagging in territorial poses. While in the air around them several others are applying their skills for a feed.
But with finite amounts of mice, and so many kites a few squabbles were inevitable. And Mike was not happy about having so many extra mouths to feed when he has the new clutch growing.
As I said to someone the other day, it’s the stuff to fill memory cards on. And I’ve wondered how many feeding Kite pictures does a blog need. Still I don’t know. So here are the dramas from a few days.
Enjoy!
This one seemed to me to be an adult the way it was hunting, and I was suprised to see when I looked closely it was a juvenile.
They pull out of the headlong dive just before the ground and the feet are swung in to land on the prey-mouse.
I’ve been near them from time to time and they hit the ground with quite a distinct, “THUD”If you can’t catch a mouse, then it’s fair game to stop the next bird in their hunting efforts, which always results in a few circles of the paddock as they sort out the differences.
Now this I’ve never seen before. This bird is eating the mouse on the wing. It’s a bit to dangerous to land on a post to have a leisurely meal as one or other other the others will make a pass and try to relieve you of your catch. They fly quite high to do this action, and then hover-fall as they reach down and take pieces, until it can be swallowed whole. This is one of the older two or three that have lately come to the paddock. It has easily secured a meal and is keeping it quite hidden from everybody elseOld enough to defend itself, it was lining up for a fence post landingA large tail-flick is a warning to all that is prepared to claim territory. It has also dropped the wings to ‘mantle’ over the mouse.And here the tail is covering any sign of its possession.Meanwhile Mike is running off any birds that try to hunt in his area.I’m not sure where the boundary was, but the young were continually hunted over the far side of the roadway. The young were quite capable of squabbling amonst themselves for the best positions. I came to the conclusion from the way they each returned to a specific area, that the mice were in that location.Another successful strike. And now to find a place to enjoy the meal.Ths is the same bird and its easy to see that it has the mouse very tightly tucked up to keep safe from the others. It spiralled up to gain height to eat it on the wingHere, it is enjoying the fruits of its labour. As it lazily difted down in a slow descent.
No doubt by this week, the fields will be pretty bare as the young will begin to move further down the coast or inland to find their own hunting grounds.
With a welcome change in the weather for a sunny morning without wind, we went to check on the young carpark Kite of Madeline and Mike.
They are now old enough to fend for themselves, so we didn’t expect to see them in the old hometree.
A little searching found them in the air about 700m down the paddock. So we trudged on down. Trudged of course is a euphemism for went with high expectations and we weren’t disappointed.
As we began to count Kites in the air and on the fence posts, it became apparent that there were two families of Kites working in the paddock as we could see at any one time, six young either sitting or flying about. There was also just one adult, and its likely that this one was not Mike and he is now kept busy further afield suppling the incubating Madeline.
The six seemed to get on together pretty well, and it gave them plenty of chances for hunting as well as mock aerial battles. The young fence sitters seemed to do a lot of tail-lifting, which is a sign of territory ownership, so each one was aware of the presence of the others.
Unsure where the other three would have come from as suitable trees are a bit of a rarity in the long paddocks.
They were all happy to work from the fence posts, and allow either close approaches, or fly in close on their own. A main access track and walking trail is about a chain (about 20m) from the fences on both sides and the track are well used by walker and bicycle riders so the young were quite human tolerant.
And in the warm sunshine, with plenty of action, time just drifted by and two hours later we did trudged back to IamGrey for a spot of the Earl’s best.
We have of late been following the courtship and mating activities of a pair of Brown Falcons. You are probably familiar with Cassia, of Cinnamon, and her pale morph mate, Alistair.
If she has a nesting location chosen, it’s still very much a secret, and she certainly is not showing any signs of incubating. However they are both favouring two trees and no doubt we’ll know soon enough
Cassia, of Cinnamon is relatively comfortable with our presence and has been known to fly onto branches near where I’m standing or sitting. Alistair on the other hand has a zero tolerance program and will take to wing well before a close approach.
The other morning, for reasons, Brown Falcon, he decided to fly out around the treelines in the two close paddocks and made several circuits that gave us some lovely views of his wing and tail details and of his masterful airmanship. I don’t think there was any aggresion, and he seemed more to be performing for her, before flying off to hunt for a morsel or two to bring in as she waited on the very top of an Umbrella pine. (Pinus pinea)
Not much to comment on, so enjoy the circuits.
Something high up must have got his attentionHere he is dropping in from height on close folded wings to gain speed.
Wrestling, I have to admit has never been “my” sport. Too much huffing, puffing and sweaty armpits for me.
So you can imagine my surprise when I came across two White-faced Herons in the middle of a ding-dong battle.
A lot of name calling began, as they sized one-another up on the roadside. The bird, that I think, throught it owned the territory arrived with neck outstretched and loud calls to intimidate the pretender.
From there it escalated quite rapidly.
Let Battle Begin
Gracefuness is not an essential sparring technique
It might seem like chest bumping, but its designed to get the advantage
No quarter is given
It’s bar-room brawl scruff of the neck time
In the end, the challenger made one move too many with enthusiasm and less skill
And the old hand was ready to press home the advantage
That beak is good for more than just catching fish
Released, the pretender admitted defeat and flew off. Seemingly none the worse for wear, but perhaps a little wiser.
The local champion flew up and down the pond with neck outstrectched and very vocal. Now everyone knows whose pond it is.
Birds as Poetry —— Just because I WANDER doesn't mean I'm LOST 