Gould's Lagoon... The "Others"

Before the "excitement" at Gould's Lagoon over the sightings of two Baillon's Crakes (see previous blog) becomes a distant thought, albeit a memorable one, it's worth mentioning other sightings. I'm not a patient birder at the best of times, but to photograph or even sight the "Baillon's" required considerable sitting or standing in a chosen spot for hours, yes hours. I should recount here that one local, 'nameless' birder, recounted that he had spent a total of 17 hours looking for this crake, before finally succeeding--I'm not sure what to say about that feat!
  During my sojourns sitting in the hide, or wandering around the lagoon perimeter, there were plenty of distractions, not including the human ones (the lagoon is very adjacent to a major suburb).
     The early morning visitors usually started with Welcome Swallows, mostly family groups, hawking for insects, with the occasional individual 'propping' on a large post in front of the hide. This is usually followed by a visit from a Swamp Harrier (image) looking for breakfast, and its' presence is usually heralded by the strident calls of the numerous Masked Lapwing that temporarily leave their roost on the nearby railway embankment, to harass it. I do wonder whether they do this from habit or perhaps just enjoy the pursuit, since they no longer have young to protect. There is little doubt that these harriers do take a substantial toll on the young of several species that breed in and around the lagoon, but the area would be the 'poorer' if they were absent.
     While wandering around, I watched two Australian Crakes (image) swim across a gap between reed clumps, one stopping en route to grab a small fish, while a few metres away on the dry crust, 3 Black-fronted Plover (image) "ticked" away at my presence, before taking flight. Two Great Egrets (image) have been present much of the summer, but have lately been joined by three others, and together with Australian Pelicans, have feasted on the small fish in the ever diminishing eastern lagoon. 
     Getting to the hide inevitably causes considerable disturbance especially to the ducks, the approach being open, but a slow approach may minimise this effect, but the hide offers less than ideal cover. With patience, and perhaps the presence of the more audacious Purple Swamphens and Eurasian Coots, a few duck return to the water's edge to roost. I managed to photograph Chestnut and Grey Teal, and Australian Shoveler, all from the hide, but they remained suspicious. Swamphen and Tasmanian Native Hen occasionally crept past, all with one eye on me, and an immature Dusky Moorhen (image), a relatively recent breeding resident here, sidled past too. I watched family groups of Common Greenfinch (image) and European Goldfinch, fly down to the water's edge to drink at several parts of the lagoon, but only managed this single shot of a greenfinch,( frankly they really seem more yellow than green!)
        Arguably the highlight of my recent visits and one that nearly 'got away', was the arrival of a single young Swift Parrot (image). The Swift Parrot is listed as endangered under the Tasmanian Threatened Species Act, so any sighting away from their known areas is noteworthy. The truth is, at the time of its' arrival, I was deeply engrossed in photographing the Baillon's Crake, which was slowly making its' way towards me, and my concentration was such that everything else was virtually shut out. I did notice its' arrival on a nearby reed stem, but as Musk Lorikeets could be seen and most certainly heard, only a short distance away, I assumed that's what it was. Fortunately, because it was in an unusual habitat (not a flowering eucalypt!), I took a few shots anyway, then returned to the crake. The crake shortly moved out of sight and I was able to return to the "lorikeet". Then the penny dropped! The lack of the long tail of the adult 'threw me'. It was obviously aware of my presence, but flew down to the water's edge and first drank, then partially immersed itself in the dreadful looking lagoon water. It was actually in sight for nearly 5 minutes, but my mind was so focused on the crake that I didn't really make the most of this unusual event. I can take some comfort in the fact that only a few minutes later the 'Baillon's' made its' closest approach and the best photo.opp.--so what would have been your choice? 

Baillon's Crake at Gould's Lagoon

  Gould's Lagoon, near Granton, in southern Tasmania, has this summer become something of a Mecca for many local and visiting birders. The centre of their 'excitement' has been the sighting of several crakes including at least 2 Baillon's Crakes, something of a rarity in this state. Their job has been made decidedly easier by the low water levels and a relative paucity of reed cover. Crakes are 'lurkers' by nature, preferring the dense reedbeds to the exposed mud, but have been forced into the open as the food rich wet mud has 'receded' from the reedbeds.
   On hearing of first one, then 2, Baillon's Crakes, I just had to visit "Gould's". A single bird was first reported by Ed Pierce in early December and tentatively IDed as a Baillon's Crake. Rodger Willows subsequently sighted this bird and then a second, keeping birders updated as to where they might be seen. I made several brief visits, but 'only' sighted several Australian Crakes, but there were many other "goodies" sighted too, including Hardheads, Grey Teal, Australasian Shoveler, Black-fronted Plovers, Caspian Tern, and Little Grassbirds to name a few.
    After meeting Rodger Willows by chance and getting some first hand information, I eventually managed to find a single bird on the edge of the eastern lagoon. My views highlighted the difficulties of crake watching. Although I had scanned this area before, I eventually noticed a movement beneath the fallen sedge stalks, on the far side of the lagoon, some 20 metres away, and there, shuffling along, was a small bird and by its' shape, obviously a crake. I watched for sometime and eventually it broke cover and I was better able to see the colouration and confirm that it was indeed a Baillon's, my first for several years. It seemed 'nervous' and several times ran for cover, once for a passing Swamp Harrier, and again after a brief 'confrontation' with an Australian Crake. It was this event that made me aware of just how small this bird is. The Australian Crake is perhaps the size of a slightly corpulent starling, and the Baillon's, a whole size smaller, being about sparrow size, no wonder I had so much difficulty finding it.
     Mid January, Jeremy O'Wheel photographed the Baillon's from the hide and it appeared this was worthy of follow up and attempt at photographing said bird. So a few days later I sat in the hide and waited, not with any great conviction, but my patience was to be rewarded. Watching several feeding coot some distance away, I became aware of a small bird feeding amongst them--"the" crake--I had at least seen this 'second' Baillon's. I was joined by Els Wakefield and Karen ? and we sat patiently hoping and reminiscing about past bird encounters, all 'armed' with cameras. We took oh so many shots as it eventually 'fronted' the hide, but in the overcast, I can't say that my results, at least, were much more than record shots. So a few days later, in better light, I tried again.
       The second try was not without its' frustrations. First a passing Swamp Harrier scattered "everything" and no sooner had they settled down than a visiting birder arrived, having a similar effect. This was followed by 2 locals, dressed for the beach, who had little or no interest in birds or the lagoon, who stood in the middle of the walkway to take the 'obligatory' camera phone shot of themselves, before, mercifully, moving on. I mention all this, because, as you might gather, I did become somewhat frustrated by this toing and froing, but this is a public hide in a public place and like it or not, visitors go with the territory. I still managed the accompanying images (not to mention many others), not quite what I had hoped for, but it's not often that I get to photograph such an elusive bird.

Season's Greetings

                     Have a happy, fulfilling, and safe, Christmas & New Year.

Worth a Visit........Pilcher's Hill Reserve

Satin Flycatcher (male)

Over the last few months I've been surveying bird populations in some of the reserves in the Clarence City Council area ('Clarence' lies on the eastern shore of the Derwent River 'opposite' Hobart).  
I'm quite well acquainted with most of these reserves, but one seems to have 'escaped' me--Pilcher's Hill at Gielston Bay. I had made a fleeting visit a year or so ago, in light drizzle, and my first impressions weren't good. It lies close to a fairly recent housing development for one, and has been the dumping ground for building and garden 'refuse' and is criss-crossed by multiple bulldozed tracks and, if that wasn't enough, it is still recovering from a major bushfire of a few years ago. Doesn't sound too good so far!

Flame Robin (male)

So without a great deal of 'conviction', I undertook two surveys one each in October and November. Both early morning and lasting a few hours on each visit. So the surprising result was that I recorded a total of 44 species not counting 'overflyers' such as Kelp Gulls. To this total, I consider other species that are probably present, especially closer to the hills of the Meehan Range, or casual visitors (e.g. Yellow-tailed Black Cockatoo and raptor species), may total an additional 16. The only raptor seen, and on several occasions, was a male Brown Goshawk, which I'm sure is breeding here.
In the Tasmanian context that puts this reserve, in species terms, among the best. Finding only 6 of the Tasmanian endemics was a little disappointing, but a search in the wetter areas nearer the Meehan range will probable show the presence of both Tasmanian Thornbill and Scrubwren--awaiting further surveys. It's worth commenting here that most of the 44 species seen in this reserve, are breeding here too.
Dusky, Flame and Scarlet Robins were recorded, with the former present in considerable numbers, largely in the bushfire damaged regrowth areas. In fact I can't recall ever seeing the numbers of Dusky Robins that were present here, anywhere, quite remarkable. Both Bronzewing Pigeon species are present, and finding 5 Brush Bronzewings on a track in open, dry scrub, was an interesting sighting.

Scarlet Robin (male)

Of the summer migrants, Satin Flycatchers were the stand out, with one or more pairs heard calling in most wooded valleys.  Three of the four cuckoos were present, with only the Horsfield's Bronze-Cuckoo absent--I have only 2 spring records this year. A few Black-faced Cuckoo-shrike and Dusky Woodswallows were also seen, but numbers of the latter seem to be well down on 'usual' numbers in many areas. 
Surprisingly (and with some feeling of relief!), I have yet to record Australian Magpie or Noisy Miners in the reserve, but that could easily change if large trees were removed, as they have in my suburb (Bellerive)-- many bush species that were once regular visitors to my garden are now only a distant memory.
So if you're looking for fresh fields to explore, you might consider a visit to this reserve. I would be interested in your observations. 
 NB. The accompanying images were taken during the surveys.

Not Far from the Madding Crowd.....Australian Reed-Warbler

The grandchildren had opted for a visit to Zoodoo, not far from Richmond (southern Tasmania), a few weeks back. I have a somewhat ambivalent attitude towards zoos, but concede that for the children, it's a great day out. Our ritual when we're in the Richmond area, has to include a visit to the local bakery for lunch, followed by a visit to the sweet shop and then on to the "bridge" to see the ducks. 
   The day had proved to be unusually mild and the village was choked with people and parked cars. The bakery was full of like-minded visitors all vying for the diminishing choice of pies and sandwiches. Not my scene at all, and I couldn't wait to move on. I hadn't felt the best from the outset and my patience was fast running out. I avoided going into the crowded "old world" sweet shop, giving the grandchildren some money instead, and warning them of the dire consequences of spending more than the very modest limit I had set. On to the bridge and the ducks.
For many visitors to the village, Richmond Bridge is the one "must see" site. Completed in 1825, it's the oldest bridge in Australia that's still in use. It's showing its' age. 

      The grandchildren spilled out of the vehicles and ran down the grassy banks to the river. A photographer was ushering a wedding party into position, while other visitors took the inevitable images of the view through the bridge arches. I tried to relax by the vehicles, keeping a watchful eye on the young ones. A chainsaw roared intermittently nearby as did a number of lawnmowers, a group of bikers crossed the bridge, briefly raising the noise level to new heights, but even amongst all this hubbub, I suddenly became aware of the unmistakable sounds of a bird persistently calling-- an Australian Reed-Warbler. The day took on a whole new perspective, my spirits raised. Amazing what one small, as yet unseen, bird can do!
         
I strode down to the river bank about 50 metres away and listened, trying to locate the calling bird among a small area of phragmites reed on the opposite bank. A Tasmanian Native Hen swam towards me, 'escaping' an off lead dog. A Little Black Cormorant nervously passed, diving after unseen prey. A Black Duck ushered her youngsters away from me and a single Eurasian Coot sought refuge among the reeds. The reed-warbler sang on, still hidden among the reeds. An eel rose, taking bites out of passing slices of bread thrown by visitors, and Welcome Swallows collected mud for their nests from the river bank--and the bird sang on. Finally, it appeared on a stem on the outer edges of the phragmites clump, giving me my first view, still calling, with  its' rich, rasping notes now seemingly drowning out all other noises around me. A great moment.

       A few days later I returned to Richmond and took the accompanying images. It required rather more patience than I can usually muster and had its' moments of sheer frustration. From my observations, it appears that 2 pairs of Australian Reed-warblers were present. This species is not rare in Tasmania, but is fairly thinly distributed in the south. Most are summer migrants to this state, but on bright sunny days in mid winter, I've heard them calling in the Tamar Marshes, probably the stronghold for this species in Tasmania. Gould's Lagoon at Granton was for many years the "surefire" place around Hobart to see them, but in the last few years they have been almost absent. A single bird, late last summer, is my only record from there for the past 2 years.
                                                                             

  

Golden Mornings........Whistlers

Towards the end of August, there was a noticeable increase in female Golden Whistlers in some of the coastal areas that I frequent. They were feeding quietly among the denser scrub, rarely seen in the open, and I had dubbed them "grey ghosts". I say 'grey', because despite the fact that they are indeed mostly light brown, as you can see from the image below, they appear grey. While watching honeyeaters and other bush birds, I would become aware of these females as they moved through the scrub, rarely getting an opportunity to photograph them. Reviewing some of the few shots I did get, I noticed the unmistakable remnants of spiders around their bill (legs), so I'm assuming they're high on the menu at this time of year. During summer these whistlers feed mainly on caterpillars. I only very occasionally saw a male, in fact throughout the winter, I only saw them on rare occasions.

     In early September, I heard the first male calling, and in the ensuing days the numbers of males I observed increased, but mostly they too were deep in the 'shrubbery'. By mid September, the numbers of calling males was significantly higher, and they 'emerged'. Males chased males as they patrolled their chosen site, stopping to call at times from a prominent perch. Not, I suspect, the site where they will breed, but an area where they could show of their singing skills, and attract a mate.The numbers of males in some spots far exceeded the number that will breed there, so perhaps it's not so surprising that the males were so boisterous. The upshot of this was that for a few days my morning walks were full of very strident and persistent calls as the males participated in a singing competition, marking another spring event. Within a week most of these birds had dispersed leaving only the few pairs that will breed there.
   Golden Whistler males are one of the 'showiest' of our native birds, and judging by the numbers of images on the various photo forums, one of the most photographed. I am, however, left with a puzzle. Where do all these male Golden Whistlers hang out during winter?

More on the Early Migrants

Well it's all happening out there, and during the last few weeks, between the showers, I've  had a few close encounters with some of the recently arrived migrant birds, and here they are.
 The most widespread species is the Striated Pardalote (at left). At almost every local venue I've visited, the first sound that has greeted me, has been the persistent "pick it up" call of this pardalote. Considering how many there are about and that they all seem to suddenly appear, I can't recall ever seeing a flock or any gathering of more than half a dozen or so birds. I do recall watching around 20, all gathered in the outer branches of a dead tree in late summer. It had just started to rain after a long dry spell, and they appeared to be 'enjoying' a shower, at least that was my interpretation. The bird pictured had flown, with difficulty, to the top of the post to administer the 'coup de grace' to this caterpillar by bashing the hell out of it. It's certainly a sizable mouthful.
  For many people around the World, the arrival of swallows of one species or another, is considered to be the first sign of spring. Although in Tasmania the vast majority of Welcome Swallows migrate to warmer climes during the colder months, a few pairs hang on and manage to survive, often roosting in buildings. The Welcome Swallow at left had obviously started nest building as the bill is covered in dry mud. They gather mud from pools or other water bodies, and use this to form their nests. 
 
  Often mistaken for swallows are the Tree Martins, particularly in flight. They both hawk for insects in a similar manner, and are often seen together. The white rump and the much shorter tail are  the most obvious differences. The Tree Martin at left, was using an old fence line to rest between forays over the nearby heath. It was still cool and there wasn't much flying insect activity, giving a photo opp.. Frequently nesting in holes in large trees, and seldom needing to come down to ground level, they aren't the easiest to come to grips with.


This year, the Shining Bronze-Cuckoos seem to have arrived particularly early, although a few had obviously overwintered, as I outlined in a previous story. I photographed this one (at right) a few days ago at Pipeclay Lagoon, but I've heard them calling from most local birding spots. Perhaps a little more surprising, was recording my first Pallid Cuckoo in the first few days of September, many more will arrive shortly.
The bronze-cuckoos are small, swift flying birds that are more often heard than seen. From experience, they often call from among the outer foliage of shrubs and trees, and their excellent camouflage makes them difficult to locate. I had the good fortune to find this one while I was photographing pardalotes feeding in low heath. It flew around, occasionally propping in the top of low sun bleached shrubs,and calling. Eventually, and from my perspective, fortuitously, close enough to photograph.

Signs of Spring

 Spring in Tasmania comes in fits and starts. Recent weather conditions have swung from mild, still days, to blustery windswept ones with rain squalls and snow down to the 300 metres mark. I've spent some of the milder days wandering the coastal heaths along the South Arm peninsula and the signs of spring are slowly emerging, but definitely gathering a pace.
 The earliest signs are usually the Masked Lapwing nesting. They often start in July, but locally at least, appear to have delayed until the last few weeks, possibly because of rain sodden paddocks. They in turn have brought to notice the recently arrived Swamp Harriers, which become the harried as they are vociferously pursued by pairs of lapwings.
  This last week has seen the return of Tree Martins, firstly wheeling high overhead, and later scything their way low across the heath in pursuit of flying insects, occasionally joined by the odd Welcome Swallow. On one visit a couple of days ago, I heard the first Striated Pardalotes calling, but a rather cursory look failed to find any, but that was about to change.
    I had stopped at a small piece of woodland and had noted a few pairs of Black-headed Honeyeaters, which I felt was worthy of a return visit as they are thin on the ground in this area, and was trudging back to my vehicle. My thoughts were on a soft armchair and a cuppa after a 3 hour birdwatch, when a vehicle stopped abruptly nearby and the occupant walked towards me asking (I thought rather accusingly) "are you a birdwatcher?". I wasn't quite sure whether I should admit that I was, despite carrying binoculars round my neck and wearing a "silly" hat! I sheepishly admitted I was, but quickly added that I take photographs too, as, for some reason, I thought this might give me an 'out' if it transpired that he had some dislike of birdwatchers.
   This was all far from the reality. John, as he introduced himself as, believed he had some interesting pardalotes on his property, just up the hill, and he wanted some assistance. I agreed to follow him and take a look, and I hoped I looked more enthusiastic than I felt. I was tired. But the thought that perhaps, just perhaps, this might prove to be the threatened Forty-spotted variety urged me on. The site is after all, very similar to other 40 spot venues, and Tinderbox and Bruny Island can be seen from here, just across the River Derwent Estuary.
    John showed me around the area of his house and I could clearly hear both Striated and Spotted Pardalotes calling, as well as a small flock of Yellow-tailed Black Cockatoos nearby. John has made a vehicle turning circle above the house, cutting into a bank, and during the construction had noticed that pardalotes had dug nesting holes in the sand piles. Since inevitably he had to move these piles, when he built the stone retaining wall, he included short lengths of plastic pipe in the wall. There were several of these pipes and they all appeared occupied by the recently arrived Striated Pardalotes. John confided that he had grown an interest in birds as a result of these pardalotes, but I got the impression that this wasn't something that he was in a hurry to tell his friends.
  I left John and did a brief and only cursory look  around his property, and as he had invited me to return anytime I liked, I felt that I at least owed him that. I did stop and take a few shots of the 'striated', (at top right), but I hope to do them more justice on a subsequent visit.
     It's interesting to think that this small bird weighing in at around 9 grams (less than the weight of a 20cent coin), has flown from the Australian Mainland only a few days previous and has immediately got down to the arduous business of finding and preparing a nest site, and defending it from all comers. Puts my feeling tired to shame!
    It's all change on nearby beaches too, the soon to leave Double-banded Plovers consorting with recently arrived Red-necked Stints. The few Double-banded Plovers that remain, are resplendent in their breeding plumage (upper left), the majority of their ilk having already left for their New Zealand breeding grounds. The migrant Red-necked Stints, some in partial  breeding plumage (lower left), have just returned from their sub Arctic breeding grounds and are appearing among the rather dour grey of the overwintering stint flock.
     Spring is probably the most exciting time for birders, a time of hope and renewal. It's time for you to get out there and enjoy it!                                                                  

Another Winter Cuckoo

     As any regular reader would have noticed, I'm a frequent visitor to the Mortimer Bay reserve at Sandford. I often just drop in on my trips round the local traps. This particular morning, as well as birding the area, I hoped to get some shots of a Grey Shrike-thrush that I have regularly seen in an area that seemed to present some "possibilities". The area is only a few yards into the reserve, and I could hear the shrike-thrush's unmistakable metallic contact call as I got out of my vehicle, so I set off with high expectations.
      Within minutes I had taken several images of this shrike-thrush as it tore at bark looking for prey (from the images, spiders), but the call of a Fan-tailed Cuckoo side-tracked me. It was obviously close, but try as I might, I couldn't locate it. I  narrowed it down to one mid-sized eucalypt, and in the outer canopy. Eventually it flew a short distance to a nearby limb and I managed to get the shot shown at right, resplendent with a hairy caterpillar. In my experience, caterpillars are the main prey for cuckoos, and I'm always surprised that there are apparently so many around during the colder months. This bird may well be the same individual that I had seen and photographed as described in my previous story.
        I hung around, now completely absorbed by the cuckoo, the shrike-thrush forgotten. The cuckoo appeared to be finding most of the caterpillars from the outer foliage of a flowering peppermint, and was joined by the occasional New Holland Honeyeater attracted by the blossom. While watching these and a nearby, very vocal Yellow-throated Honeyeater through the binoculars, I noticed another small bird that I couldn't immediately identify. I watched for some minutes, the bird giving only brief glimpses and somewhat silhouetted against the sky. Eventually it dropped down into the lower parts of the gum almost immediately in front of me. It was a Shining Bronze-Cuckoo, a great Winter find. In the dappled light, not in the greatest position for photography, but with the bronze-cuckoos you have to take what you can get! This bird too, had a small, very small, also hairy, caterpillar, as seen in the lower image. It flew back into the canopy and for the first time, gave a single "fwee" call and almost immediately a second bronze-cuckoo appeared. I soon had another brief photo opp., when the second bird 'propped' on a low branch (top image) between short forays to scratch among the leaf mulch. I've never witnessed this species doing this before, and as it has very short legs unsuited to foraging, I'm guessing that they seldom do. That would perhaps suggest a paucity of suitable food sources. Another excellent morning and I even managed some passable Grey Shrike-thrush shots too.

   The bronze-cuckoos (Shining and Horsfield's) are much smaller than the fan-tailed (17cms vs 26cms), and all cuckoos, including the largest, the Pallid Cuckoo, are essentially Summer migrants to Tasmania, although Fan-tailed Cuckoos are fairly regularly seen here in Winter, mainly in coastal areas.
     

The First Cuckoo of Winter?

 A few days ago, during a break in the "indifferent" weather, I set forth to visit some of the local traps. The first few seemed ominously quiet, and I finally settled on the Mortimer Bay reseve at Sandford, a favourite of mine. I can't say it was jumping with birds, but the New Holland, Crescent, and Yellow-throated Honeyeaters, Brown Thornbills, Spotted Pardalotes and the Superb Fairywrens at least kept me interested. I stopped briefly to photograph a thornbill. It had caught my attention with an unfamiliar call, perhaps it was seeking a mate, it was strident, but not the usual territorial call. I could hear a nearby Dusky Robin calling, but failed to see it. Several Grey Butcherbirds called. They have taken up residence in the coastal strip of pines and from previous experience, they  make the local birds 'jumpy'.
  A few pairs of Grey Fantails were evident, brushing the acacia bushes with their wings to dislodge insects and then swooping, with great agility, to catch them in mid-air. Pairs of Scarlet Robins were active along the tracks, making forays from a convenient perch to catch grounded insects, but even they were hard to approach on this occasion. Of woodland species, I must have photographed 'scarlets' more often than any other, especially the "showy" males.
   I was about to call it quits, when I heard the unmistakable 'descending trill' of a Fan-tailed Cuckoo, close by, high among the tall pines. As I neared the pines, it called from the acacia scrub alongside of the track and as I neared them, it called from the lightly wooded area a further hundred metres away. It was mobile!
   At this point, for some reason, I became determined, perhaps obsessed, to see it, photography was in any case unlikely. It had thrown down the gauntlet (in my mind at least). Fan-tailed Cuckoos are a common enough summer visitor to this state, and a few are assumed to overwinter., mostly in coastal areas. So is this an early arrival, or just failed to migrate? Most of their 'host' species, thornbills and fairywrens, are early breeders, so early arrival would appear to benefit this cuckoo.
    I then had a stroke of luck, it flew across the track only metres away and called from the nearby scrub. I had at least seen it. I closed on the scrub, it flew a short distance, and appeared to alight in a young eucalypt. I stood for several minutes peering through my binoculars, hoping for a better view and at last found it. It was facing away and surprisingly cryptic for a fairly large bird (26cm.), but appeared to well aware of me. It called and an answering call came from some distance away. Now I understood why I had thought it so mobile--presumably a pair. With careful approach I even managed to get close enough for a 'shot' or two, as you can see.
   I left soon afterwards, feeling, I must admit, a little smug!

Pardalotes........40 Spots or Not ?

I had taken my son and granddaughter, Jade, to Fossil Cove, near Blackman's Bay. Jade has a new found interest in fossils which needs to be encouraged, and this site was one that I thought worthy of visiting, which it proved to be. The downside was the 'climb' back up, made only slightly more bearable by the variety of birds seen--a spot for further exploration.
 A short drive and we stopped to explore some roadside vegetation that appeared to have possibilities.  Almost immediately we noticed a pair of Spotted Pardalotes feeding in the low hanging branches of a peppermint that seemed a good photo opp., which it proved to be. I took a few shots of the female (at top), and reviewed the results on the camera's LCD screen, put the camera back up to my eye, refocused, and did a double take! In place of the 'spotted' I now had a 'Fortyspot'--a couple of shots and it was gone.
We stood around looking for this bird and found that we actually had 2 pairs, and they seemed much more interested in chasing each other than in our presence, so I was able to take several more shots. If you're interested they can be found on my pbase site via the link at right.
When I have been out and about birding, on many occasions I have stopped to talk to passers-by about what I'm doing, ( I have in part, found the need to explain my potentially suspicious looking gear and dress). One of the more popular bird topics raised has been about 'fortyspots', they're one of the birds that people seem to have heard of, they are after all, an iconic Tasmanian endemic species  and listed as "endangered". They frequently top the list of 'must see' birds for visiting birders. On a number of occasions, the 'passer-by' volunteers that they have seen the fortyspots in their garden, or in a nearby park. Being the sceptic that I am, I usually pass over the subject of the improbability of their sighting, not wishing to offend them, but some are not easily put off. Sometime I may press them for more information, especially if they live somewhere near a known breeding site. Forty-spotted Pardalotes do roam in the cooler months, but you're more likely to see the common, and much more 'flamboyantly' plumaged, Spotted Pardalote, or during the Summer, the widespread Striated Pardalote, which in any case lacks 'spots'. Undoubtedly the best place to see the fortyspots is Bruny Island, in the lightly timbered areas almost always among stands of White Gum Eucalyptus viminalis. The Peter Murrell Reserve at Kingston, which for many years was the best spot near Hobart, has become somewhat unreliable in recent times, but I understand that a few pairs still 'hang on' there.