Take a butcher's at this colourful lot

But it's brown, why's it called a Black Butcherbird? I'm glad you asked. In North Queensland - but not too far north - Cracticus quoyi race rufescens comes with either black or rufous young, in the same nest sometimes. The rufous birds change to black in their second year (note black emerging on bird's left wing. They'll also stick around and help their parents feed the next generation.

But it's brown, why's it called a Grey Teal? I'm sorry you asked, because I've no idea. Possibly because calling it brown would confuse it with Chestnut Teal. The species confuse themselves and others by hybridizing sometimes.

But it's black, why isn't it called the Yellow-streaked-necked-male Bittern? Ha! They get it right sometimes, though the female isn't really very black.

Don't ask me how the Darter managed to escape the colour determinists, though it did get saddled with the tag Snake-bird, which, I'm pleased to say, nobody has ever used in my experience. I'd much rather go for Very Twisty Neck Bird, but that's a bit colourless.

And there's obviously too much white everywhere and it's such a boring colour anyway the colour must come from a really really exciting name, such as Intermediate Egret. Not Great or Little or Reef. All too dull, dull, dull. Intermediate, now that's a name with zing. Like a Bill Shorten zinger! Talk about colourful. But actually something in this picture does bring him to mind ...

Bittern in the light: owl in the night

Four Black Bitterns (Ixobrychus flavicollis) in Tyto today but no image to match the above, taken from the highway at a temporary pool near Ingham the other morning.

Another image standing around for a bit, Intermediate Egret (Ardea intermedia), atop a Leichhardt tree.

And a little night visitor to the caravan park a while back, young Barking Owl (Ninox connivens) waits for parent to bring in some dinner.

Click pix to enlarge  

Squelching the numbers . . .

Squelched into Tyto today after 740mm of rain and widespread flooding through the week finally gave way to mostly dry roads and sullen grey cloud. Tracks overgrown and some knee-deep in water.  


Found 26 bird species. Few in usual numbers, apart from White-browed Crakes and Forest Kingfishers. Even Crimson Finches and Willie Wagtails notably reduced. 

But did surprise a Black Bittern in spot flushed from soon after Cyclone Yasi crashed through last month. A creature of habit, possibly partner of bird above, pictured in January.

And while looking back, two views of a Sooty Oystercatcher from my flying visit to NZ.

Painful crawl over volcanic rock on Manukau Harbour foreshore brought little reward!  
Click pix to enlarge

Treecreeper rainforest highlight

Quick trip to high rainforest near Wallaman Falls yesterday found only this White-throated Treecreeper (Cormobates leucophaea) close to the camera. Then the clouds rolled in and the rain poured down.

No greater luck in the quest for Victoria's Riflebirds earlier in the month, when this wary Eastern (Common) Bearded Dragon (Pogona barbata) caught the eye.

More frustration today in Tyto with several sightings of Black Bitterns (Ixobrychus flavicollis), but only one distant bird standing still for a second.

Here's a sharper image of a more co-operative bird, Striated Heron (Butorides striata) sitting deep in mangroves near the coast.
Click pix to enlarge

No frills defence display from lizard

Frilled Lizard (Chlamydosaurus kingii) plays dead (wide-eyed) in the middle of a sodden Tyto track today. No movement. Not even discernible breathing. Certainly no display of frills. Past experience has always been that in this defence mode the lizards will not move until touched, no matter how close the approach. Didn't bother putting this smallish animal to the touch test.

Black Bitterns (Ixobrychus flavicollis) don't play dead in the middle of mown tracks. But this male seeking morsels washed from the overflowing main lagoon stuck to position as I approached from about 60 metres off. Sadly, two Magpie Larks flew in and for reasons known only to themselves drove bittern off. And I got only blurry shots of the swooping.

Taipan swims into view

Just when I begin to think most of the snakes have been washed away, this Taipan (Oxyuranus scutellatus) comes swimming briskly from the Scleria and hauls ashore close by the footbridge to the Tyto hide.

I stepped across to its likely route up through the grass and got near, but the species is ever alert. Couldn't get unobscured shot of the raised head. Moved a little too much, and snake slipped quickly away into knee-high weeds.

Taipans are often active hunters by day. Not so often encountered in the water. This was the first I've seen coming from the flooded razor grass. Not sure that this one-metre snake could cope with a fullgrown water rat, so one of its targets could be this White-browed Crake (Ixobrychus minutus) photographed later in front of the hide. Crake eggs or chicks probably in very short supply after the whole system went under twice in the floods.

An observation on snakes and reported sizes. Most snakes appear to grow with each retelling of sightings. Discarded skins are little help, because they stretch greatly. Swimming snakes always look considerably bigger and longer than when out of water. I know this and yet still had to revise my first estimate of the above snake down by 30 centimetres. Little wonder 'huge pythons' were once so common.

Here's an unlikely meal for any passing python. However this Black Bittern (Ixobrychus flavicollis) stood almost motionless for more than half an hour today directly in front of the lookout knoll. It had presumably been there for much longer, unnoticed by some camera-toting visitors who I spotted from afar but who left before I reached the knoll. Cameras are no substitute for a decent pair of binoculars.

         

Black Bittern out and upstanding

Upstanding start to the day! Cycle past a creek beside the highway and spot a strangely prominent figure rising from some flooded grass. Immature Black Bittern (Ixobrychus flavicollis) revealing its inexperience, choosing wrong place to adopt the stiffly upright posture of the species when caught unawares.

Bird stayed motionless as I braked on bridge, propped bike against guardrail, doffed helmet, fumbled camera into operation and snatched first few pictures. Bird twisted right and then turned left as I tried for steadier position. More pictures. Luck ran out when I tried to add 1.4x converter. Bird stalked slowly into long grass and didn't reappear.

No way of being sure, but this youngster probably came from a nest over water in rainforest just southwest of Tyto. The parent birds would be the pair often seen in the wetlands once the rains come. As the ground dries out they retreat into the forest and its deep, shaded pools.

Here's another youngster prominently out in the open today. This juvenile White-bellied Sea Eagle (Haliaeetus leucogaster) swept briefly directly over the top of me (picture is full frame deep) near the Tyto hide. The birds get progressively lighter year by year as they go from juvenile, to immature, to subadult, and finally gain the full white and grey of maturity.

And yet another young bird over the lagoon today. Juvenile Caspian Tern (Hydroprogne caspia) did a quick circuit without seeing anything that took its fancy and headed off towards the coast. 

Interestingly, many of the smaller and medium sized species were less apparent today than two and three days back. Perhaps the rush to feed after the flooding rains has abated. It seems likely too that insect numbers were much reduced by birds desperate to feed in midweek after the terrible weather cleared, though yesterday/overnight was the first 24-hour cycle without heavy rain for about 36 days.

Black Bittern finally poses

Wary Black Bitterns (Ixobrychus flavicollis) had till today been too quick for me since they arrived as usual with flooding rains and overspilling of Tyto's main lagoon. The birds stand in shaded areas close to culverts and drainage pipes, waiting for whatever the outflow provides. Once flushed they commonly fly off to a tree from which they can keep an eye on any intruding threat.

This month brought four birds, almost certainly two pairs, though the birds stood alone. Each flew off when disturbed and seldom looked back, let alone took up any nearby position. There were territorial disputes, with one of the males (pictured) showing little tolerance for the other. My last few sightings suggest the bullied pair has quit the scene.

So photo opportunities had been limited to long-range shots, fast deleted in hope of something better. Which finally arrived today, but only after I saw a female fly from a favoured spot and vanish through the trees. 

This male then rose from close by and - against recent experience - stayed briefly low in a tree watching me and issuing croaky grunts bordering on barking before scrambling higher through the branches and taking off after the female. Now I must hope to sneak closer in next few days.