Four birds in flight

Bush Stone-Curlew looks down as it passes overhead in Tyto yesterday. The birds usually stand quietly for most of the day before walking off on their nocturnal feeding rounds. In common with many larger species, the birds normally go out of their way to avoid flying low over people, but I'd by chance been hard for the bird to see till it was right over me. And here are three other birds-in-flight from the not-so-sharp folder:

Little Pied Cormorant 

Nankeen Kestrel

Whistling Kite

And a sharper Welcome Swallow to finish with. 

Sacreds the devil to catch in flight

Spent an hour today trying to catch Sacred Kingfishers (Toditamphus sanctus) in flight or on sodden open woodland ground as they pounced on small insects and reptiles. No success. Birds proved almost impossible to anticipate and were typically wary when I moved to unobscured positions.

This flight shot is offered as much in frustration as explication. There is something in the bird's bill, possibly a caterpillar, but I couldn't get close enough or steady enough for a satisfying picture. The Sacreds' numbers are building, however, so we'll have another go tomorrow.

Surprisingly, Forest Kingfishers (Todiramphus macleayii) have yet to dominate the pickings from the swampy grasslands and woodlands. But soon they'll be lining up like a blue and white army on fences and in trees and elbowing the Sacreds out of the picture. Six or so Sacreds will give way to 30-50 Forests.

Hard to elbow a Blue-winged Kookaburra (Dacelo leachii) out of the way, though Willie Wagtails often try. Flood or drought, one or two pairs of Blue-wingeds maintain a quiet presence in Tyto's trees. This female allowed me close a few days ago. She completes the present set because there have been no recent sightings of Little Kingfishers, and the sole Azure seen has been but a high-speed blur.

Even the finches are cleaning up

Ingham cleanup continued today in steamy hot sunshine. Did a squelchy tour of Tyto and found remarkably little flood debris considering up to three metres of water poured in and sat over almost everything twice in a few days.

Not only the townsfolk engaged in getting all back in order. Crimson Finches are busy renovating the nest in a paperbark trunk (above) in front of the hide. May not be the same pair as produced four young in November and then another batch of unknown number from a nest in a fork slightly higher in the same tree. 

Some useful material to hand is coming not from the second and now vacant nest but from the third of the Brown-backed Honeyeater nests in the second of the paperbarks fronting the hide. Finding white feathers to line the nest won't be so easy. Old ones have all been flushed away and few Magpie Geese have stayed near the flooded lagoons.

No egrets, herons, cormorants, darters, and few ducks. But Comb-crested Jacanas and White-browed Crakes were out in small numbers, and noisily busy out of sight. One Black Bittern, highlight of the morning, and mistaken for debris as I surveyed a messy outflow from main lagoon to side pool.

But plenty of chirpy activity in the trees, led by the honeyeaters, doves, woodswallows, wagtails, Metallic Starlings, orioles, figbirds and cuckoo-shrikes. No raptors, few lorikeets, no sight or sound of cisticolas or grassbirds. In all, 35 bird species, plus a few wallabies (many drownings in district) and turtles. No snakes.

The total debris cleanup for Tyto's 120+ hectares will take two men with a small truck and boat about half a day, less time than for many a stricken individual household. Even better, there is nothing that cannot wait. Three metres of water? Been and gone. And it has put a temporary damper on the rampant Pink Lotuses. No worries!

Friars' habits inhibit native habitat

Blue skies! Ingham scored an after-flood break today, starting with light cloud and quickly turning mostly to blue sky and fast-drying sunshine. Second major cleanup at the caravan park almost done. Time to think birds. But no time from water blasting and mopping up to get any photographs. 

So here's a splash of colour saved from early this year (and a message): Helmeted Friarbird (Philemon buseroides) part-ringed by African tulip tree flowers. The bird's a vocally varied goody, the tree's an infesting pest.

'African tulip tree (Spathodea campanulata) is a fast-growing evergreen tree native to tropical Africa. African tulip tree is a Class 3 declared plant under Queensland legislation. Non-invasive native alternatives to the African tulip tree are black bean (Castanospermum australe), wheel of fire (Stenocarpus sinuatus) and flame tree (Brachychiton acerifolius).' (Qld govt site).

Just another of a long list of totally unsuitable plants introduced to Australia, often by people who should have known better. Plenty of concern even 100 years back about thoughtless imports. (Not sure too much has changed.)

Most Tyto visitors love the tulip trees, and few show great enthusiasm for mainland Australia's largest honeyeater, no matter how many pleasing short calls (I've just spent 30 minutes seeking apt onomatopoeic formations  - and failed entirely) it makes.

Here's the real rub. Those big bare black faces are just made to dive deeply into flowers such as the tulip tree's. As with many pest species, the trees lead friars and other birds to conspire against native revegetation.

Suddenly the picture above seems less sunny, doesn't it?

More rain, two more sunnier birds

More heavy rain today. More tomorrow. And the next day. But we've cleaned up almost all the caravan park. No danger of huge reflood, but Herbert River rising slightly, delaying any concerted start on work in Ingham. Now it's time for sunnier images. 

Golden-headed Cisticola (Cisticola exilis) perky and chirpy. The picture's a bit soft, disguised by the sharply alert eye. Lefthand branch retained to help frame bird. Two distracting out of focus branches cloned out from behind the head.

Not much risk of this bird being taken for much rarer, whiter Zitting Cisticola, but Tyto visitors are prone to wishful thinking. No record of a Zitting near the wetlands in almost five years.

Little Bronze Cuckoo (Chalcites minutillus) also suffered background problems. The black bill was lost in the darkness.   Isolated the bill and darkened it to obtain some extra separation and so gain a little more definition. Heavy branch cloned out from across back of bird. The beauty of the plumage in morning light made the effort worthwhile.  

Sick of flood, back to birds

Ingham still cut off. Town cleanup awaits another metre drop in Herbert River. But at caravan park we're better off with standing water shelving across back third of grounds. All facilities came through more or  less intact and we ripped into blast cleaning in yesterday's sunshine. More heavy rain forecast for three days should not slow river's fall.

Tyto's out of question, but it's time to get back to the birds, if only to show slightly improved processing. (Nothing like rainy days to force one to knuckle down and try more time-consuming tasks.) 

First, Brown Honeyeater (Lichmera indistincta). Bird's not bad. Too much tree, and try as I might, couldn't find way to clone the problems away.  The attractive markings are rather at odds with the bird's Latin name, aren't they?

Here's a White-gaped Honeyeater (Lichenostomus unicolor), previously unposted in this blog, but put up on Birding-Oz.  The gape seldom phtographs as true white, usually offering a strong yellow tinge. But the Latin is truer to the plumage.

Time to get back to the cleanup. More later.

Town's under water? No worries!

When your town is under water, what matters most?

No disasters reported in Ingham. But many will have suffered mental distress, physical discomfort and worse, and severe material losses. Their collective suffering makes the news. All sympathy to them.

But a blogger mostly confined to a caravan best stick to the personal, recognising that solipsism rules.

Housing first. A matter of centimetres. Waters reached to 2cm below caravan door last night. Rose slightly, fell slightly. All this, as the rain belted down (perhaps 300mm in 12 hours). But the total flood area is now so great a 30cm fall - in a narrow band - is swallowed and levels just creep up. So, housing dry, no worries. Food? Enough. No worries.

Car? Parked in crowded, swamped driveway outside park owners' residence. Not floating, no leaks. No worries.  Personal gear? Anything of value, high and dry. No worries. Other stuff will survive soaking. No worries.  No insurance (because live in caravan). No worries.

Let's get to the worries.

What say I get Alzheimer's because there's no Times cryptic crosswords to stop my brain tangles knotting even further. 

If I don't cycle daily the right leg will lose muscle tone and the bung knee will have an orthopaedic surgeon hovering above it like a vulture.

What about watching 10's liar-spotter nonsense drama last night because ABC transmission pixilated? Such guilt stress can cause all sorts of illness.

Could cabin fever lead me to do an Oates and tell the cockroaches as I go: 'I may be a while'? (recent TV skit: Scott made up comment after cannibalism).

As you see, there's a lot to worry about! This post starts in serious vein and ends tapped into an artery of flippancy and black humour. Reverting to type.

What matters? 'To thine own self be true'? No matter, truth will ever out!

Unrelated closer: not often I come across a gag in my pictures. I offer this Straw-necked Ibis for nonprize caption competition.    

Gracefully spotting Yellow-spotteds

Two honeyeaters in Tyto can bring birders to a serious identity crisis. Yellow-spotteds (Meliphaga notata) and Gracefuls (M. gracilis) are found in woodland and creek forest areas, mostly outside the hot pre-Wet and wettest months (November-March).

So in this saturated January I was a little surprised to first hear and then get poor pictures of this Yellow-spotted earlier in the week (before the rain really set in - again!). The hearing is almost everything, until the birds get into close range.

Yellow-spotteds offer a metallic rattling (feebly echoing 'machinegun' bursts from much larger - but seldom in Tyto - lookalike Lewin's Honeyeater (M lewinii)). Gracefuls, slightly smaller, with longer, slender bills, mostly give one repetitious 'tuk' (louder further north: can trick southerners into looking for 'tinking' Bell Miners).

But birds don't always call on command. And slight bill differences can be hard to spot. You could try and see whether the earmark is a rounded yellow triangle (Yellow-spotted) or merely rounded (Graceful). Good luck with that idea!

How to tell them apart? Well, both have a yellow gape streak, which points at the earmark. The Yellow-spotted streak points to the centre of the earmark, but in the Graceful it curves down and points to the bottom of the earmark. (Sorry, can't lay hands on Graceful picture: two oldies of mine just checked are Yellow-spotteds!)

It's obvious when pointed out, though not every guidebook gets it right. So that's my out for never having noticed. Many thanks to Tyto visionary and birder supreme John Young for showing me the difference.           

Rainbow Lorikeet over the top

A problem with Rainbow Lorikeets (Trichoglossus haematodus) is the temptation to crank up saturation to psychedelic levels. But the colours are dazzling enough, there's no need to go over the top.

Nobody told this bird (click pic to enlarge) about not going over the top. Came upon it bouncing on a dead stump of branch in Tyto this week. The bird kept mouthing and 'licking' a leaf of the tree. Couldn't see any insect life at all on the leaf. Nor was the bird biting chunks out of the leaf.

Rather, it seemed the bird might be drawing something 'chemically interesting' from the ragged edge of the leaf. After each mouthing/lick it would bounce up and down on the branch, then throw its head vigorously left and right. Licking, bouncing, head tossing. Bouncing, licking, head tossing. And so on for more than 10 minutes. A few random screeches and a bit of chattering added to the colourful encounter.

A few other Rainbows then turned up, but landed in a nearby Euodia. They paid no heed to the bouncing bird and it showed no interest in them. But it gave me a last screech and took off. Hard to be sure, but it may have been joined in departure flight by the newcomers.

I have absolutely no idea what the episode was all about. Took a tentative taste of leaf. Nothing. No taste, smell, reaction of any sort. Never seen any lorikeets in the tree before, nor any other birds acting oddly.

Am trying to nail ID for tree. Don't hold your breath! (Feb 6: hope you didn't hold breath! Tree is 'Alphitonia excelsa, commonly known as the Red Ash or Soap Tree, is a species of tree in the Rhamnaceae family. It is endemic to Australia, being found in New South Wales, Queensland, Northern Territory and the northeastern tip of Western Australia. It is used in bush regeneration as a pioneer species and for amenity planting.' Thanks, Wiki, and Greg Calvert, who told me name, which I forgot.)

While on the subject of lorikeets, here's a holdover Scaly-breasted (T. chlorolepidotus) from an earlier post, for comparison between the closely related species.  

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.

Red tails in the sunset

A small flock of Red-tailed Black Cockatoos (Calyptorhynchus banksii) has graced the caravan park over the past week. The birds are drawn to Indian almond trees. More exactly, to the tough, fibrous fruit. Above, a male flourishes its crest in late afternoon light. 

The birds have two feeding strategies. Pluck the almonds and eat them while perched in the tree. Or litter the ground beneath the tree with branches bearing the almonds and descend to eat them. A female (above) makes light of ripping into a tough green almond.

Either way, feeding is accompanied by companionable chat conducted in hoarse squawks. Full volume alarm screeches can make the birds somewhat less lovable.

Once the almonds have been stripped from the trees the cockatoos will move on, usually toward the beaches, where they can find more almonds and also tuck into casuarina nuts. Less often, they tackle green pine cones in the district's forestry plantations.

Hard to catch the birds' coloured tail panels in flight, but this male showed off 'reddily' while preening late this afternoon.

Chasing wren to a conclusion

Chased a male Red-backed Fairy Wren back and forth along a small area of swampy woodland track for about 15 minutes in Tyto today. The bird danced in and out of small trees, vine-hung pandanus, scrubby weeds and long grasses. The first result? A few so-so pictures, one with fresh-caught grasshopper (above). A strong argument for purchase of flash unit.

Result two? The wren hopped across some scraggly vines, one of which dangled interestingly. As small Amethystine Pythons do. It had almost certainly been in the same position throughout all my chase after the wren. Hiding out in the open. Well, openly in the shade of a pandanus. A strong argument for standing still and and looking, looking, looking at our surroundings.

For now, I lean to the second argument. It's much cheaper, and applies universally.

Elsewhere today, came upon this Lace Monitor on a vacant block in the seaside suburb of Forrest Beach. The 1.2-1.3 metre beauty was taking the morning sun, as reptiles do, with throat and breast directed to the incoming warmth. Took some time to capture the flickering tongue as the animal got a long-range 'taste' of me and vanished into a culvert hidden by the long grass.  

The Bad, the Ugly and the Beautiful

Steamy stuff in the daytime? Sounds a bit like soap opera to me. We'll call it The Bad, the Ugly and the Beautiful!  

Not so bad to look at, but ugly is as ugly does. And what the Cane Toad (Bufo marinus) does is reproduce its poisonous self in noisome numbers: up to 30,000 eggs per female a season. Perhaps 99% will not survive. Still leaves 300 to do their worst. Look closely and you'll see a chain of black eggs stretching along the flank of the male toad (above, at work in Tyto. Click to enlarge).

Hard to see bad barbed wire as anything but ugly, even with an attractive young Welcome Swallow (Hirundo neoxena) taking a comfort stretch upon its rustiness. But I was taken with the colour match between rust and parts of the bird. (Note to barbed wire collectors: I don't think this is a rare piece.)

Nothing ugly about the Ulysses butterfly (Papilio ulysses), though the brilliant blue coloration signals a warning against swallowing the swallowtails. The males sip salts from small puddles, in part to produce pheromones to attract females. Their liquid uptake - and throughput - must be considerable as this butterfly spent several minutes moving from puddle to tiny puddle and produced scores of drops, such as that shown.

Nothing ugly or bad about Plumed Whistling Ducks (Dendrocygna eytoni). Two have taken up temporary quarters in a waterlogged corner of the caravan park. Funnily enough, Plumed Whistlers can give the impression they are averse to water. They stand around by day, prefer ground landings to splashdowns, will breed far from water, and feed nocturnally on grasses and other low growth.

Well, that didn't go so badly, did it?

Lorikeets in two minds

A Scaly-breasted Lorikeet (Trichoglossus chlorolepidotus) tucks in to Euodia (commonly, Evodia) flowers during an extended feeding spell in Tyto yesterday. The bird's partner shot off early on. Expecting the pictured bird to do likewise, I rattled off several quick bursts. Then, we settled down: the lorikeet to enjoy foraging; me to stay close for a chat.

There's always a fly or two in the (app)ointment however. Birdwatcher first and photographer second, and engrossed in the chat, I failed to change camera settings to take advantage of improving light. So, pictures noisy and suffering for lack of tripod - back in car and put aside in favour of umbrella.

Rather appropriate, being in two minds about what to set out with, then having extended chat with a bird that itself often seems in two minds. Smaller and plainer than Rainbow Lorikeets (T. haematodus), Scalys give the impression they would be amazed to be told they were not Rainbows.

I'm sure they think themselves merely a little less colourful. And though their smaller relative size leaves them open to bullying, it's no surprise that aviary escapees in Melbourne and elsewhere are said to readily find Rainbow and other lorikeet breeding partners. (But I cannot remember ever seeing any intermediate forms.) 

Bee-eaters: just my b..... luck

Seldom have much luck getting close to Rainbow Bee-eaters (Merops ornatus) when I've a camera in hand. Large flocks close up against blue skies are memories of non-photographic yesteryears. 

But there have been a few pirripping here and there in paperbarks and launching out after dragonflies and other insects - almost certainly not bees. (At risk of repeating myself, Rainbows rarely show any interest in Tyto honeybees, which four years ago swarmed in to a large tree hollow and took over from a pair of Masked Owls.)

Two of the birds this week proved a little less wary than the rest. The light was ever changing as clouds white and grey rushed west, now and then leaving frustratingly small blue holes and some sunlight. 

Just my luck, though, to find the one bird that stayed low and let me walk up to it looked as if it recently went through a car wash - backwards! It seemed healthy, without any sign of parasites. Just moulting, I suppose. The other bird let me even closer, without ever presenting itself in good light or at good height. B..... bee-eaters! 

Trickle of birds as Tyto floods

Plenty of rain, but Tyto wasn't looking too wet today. A bit of water running over a track, some paperbarks and razor grass sitting in deeper water, unwanted rampant lotuses going under, a few trees with limbs shattered by weight of water and gusting winds. In fact, surprisingly little flooding, given more than 300mm in 24 hours on Monday and heavy showers yesterday.

Improved culverts on the highway allowed much swifter outflow of floodwater than in previous years. Newly completed rock-lined lagoons overtopped yesterday by 700mm-800mm of surging brown water were today back to merely brimming.

But few birds were on any of the water or its edges, though there was plenty of activity in the trees. Best sighting on my morning cycle was a Black Bittern. Also showing out briefy: Buff-banded Rail, Pale-vented Bush-hen, White-browed Crake, Black-necked Stork, Comb-crested Jacanas, and Magpie Geese. No ducks, pigmy geese, egrets, cormorants.

Didn't feel like risking the new camera and lens, so pressed the old Panasonic FZ30 back into service. Pictures not quite so sharp, but came across a Long-necked Turtle and a White-bellied Cuckoo Shrike to get some wildlife into the morning's ride.

A tail piece about the 'nannyism' threatening all sorts of outdoor recreation. Note the water flowing across the track (above). Be aware there's a crocodile warning near Tyto's lookout (one croc seen in five years, but ever a possibility). I've been told that the track doesn't conform with safety guidelines even when most of the year it stands 300mm-500mm clear of the main lagoon (left in picture).

Such guidelines, enforced rigidly, would close much of Kakadu, many other northern national parks and nature reserves, and huge numbers of boat ramps. Informed and sensible caution, yes; mollycoddling for all, NO! And don't get me started on croc and shark hysteria... 

Beating the grey skies

Rain. Showers. Threat of rain. Well, it is the Wet season. But the real rain has been falling well to the west or north of Ingham and it's been frustratingly hard to read the morning sky. I don't mind the rain, but the camera's not so keen. Even when there's no rain, the grey skies make bird photography something of a washout without plenty of flash power (which I lack).

One or two chances have offered themselves however. There's this Brown-backed Honeyeater from a sunnier moment a few days ago. And the juvenile Crimson Finch (below) with its spot of coming breast colour.

   

The stop-start weather has made short-term nonsense of my predicted inflow of birds chasing small fish as they thrash upstream into flooded grasslands. But all will come to pass!

In the meantime, looking for more birding stuff? Try I And The Bird 91  Lots of interesting bits - and an amusing false link that makes Kiwis Australian!

A year of Tyto moments

Gulp! Tagged by Duncan as part of a chain meme to list 10 memorable nature moments in 2008, I've scrabbled through my tatty sweat-stained daily notebooks praying that in my absence they'd miraculously grown magical details of marvellous sights. They haven't!

What's worse, it turns out that my most stirring moments failed to present themselves as photo opportunities. And when they did, my camera skills were not often up to the task. That's got rid of the excuses-in-advance, time to knuckle down and get the 10 off the fingertips.

First must be the Tyto morning  a Common Tree Snake slides slowly over my shoulder and coils about my hat as I sit paused on my bicycle.  Blurred getaway.

Second, enraged female Pacific Black Duck stands tall, wings flailing and furiously fights off a Little Eagle after it targets her and two ducklings ... and same day, same post ...

Third, after years of failure, a Little Bittern hunting almost out in the open. Get pictures, grainy but graphic. 

Fourth, first Tyto sighting of a Red-capped Robin. Made memorable by my misidentifying it and joining later photo to a dummy spit.

Fifth, witness Black Kite learn new fishing trick, but fail to resnatch catch.

Sixth, find Lovely Fairy-wrens and nest after years of searching.

Seventh, play time with wallabies and wagtail.

Eighth, bit of nonsense with a snarky Carpet Python.

Ninth, see a small Agile Wallaby hurtle from nowhere to boot a large Amethystine Python's head. 

Tenth. At least 10 times in 2008 hear a sweet high song. No sight of bird. No idea of species. Good to have a challenge for 2009!  

Wings on the headstones

Female Magpie Lark (Grallina cycanoleuca) brings vibrant life to old headstones at the Ingham Historic Cemetery. Chanced upon the bird's mud bowl nest and two near fledglings in a poinsettia as I cycled by the other day. 

The parents gave the game away with their alarm calls and half-hearted swooping at me. Too dark within the tree for worthwhile shots of the youngsters after they left the nest. But the noisy posing of the female offered dramatic possibilities. 

Unfortunately, she wouldn't let me close enough and wouldn't stay still long enough for any first-rate pictures. And the male was content to let his mate do most of the squawking!