Every year thousands of Austalian Shelduck fly into the Western Treatment Plant during November.
When I grew up, on the river country, they were called “Mountain Ducks”, so as a littleun, I just assumed they must be, as the horse in the The Man from Snowy River, “mountain bred” But it’s highly like that among the thousands, not one has ever been seen in mountain territory.
They congregate to moult out all their flight feathers and for a few weeks are flightless. And pretty helpless. The foxes can ravage the flocks and its not unusal to see a dozen or more carcasses by the roadside on a trip through the plant.
Once they have gained a new set of flight feathers they then begin to fuel up for the next part of their journey.
We stopped on Twentynine Mile Road to have a look at a great number of them feeding.
And for bonus points a pair of Brolga landed and walked through the flocks.
With a few wing flaps and some head shaking they seemed to clear a path between the ducks, until in the end, perhaps tired of that game, they took to wing and headed further down the Plant.
The ducks just continued sitting, enjoying the sunshine.
Birds as Poetry —— Just because I WANDER doesn't mean I'm LOST 