The Myrtle Forest, Wellington Park

I am rather a creature of habit, and anyone regularly reading this blog will be aware that I often visit the same places, but occasionally, I break out. Lying in bed the other morning and knowing that the forecast was for one of those idyllic Tasmanian Autumn days, I racked my brains for a 'new' place to visit that wasn't too far away. Going back in my mind over the last 30 years or so, I recalled birding a spot in the foothills of Mt. Wellington, near Collinsvale, about 30 minutes drive away. A quick look on the internet confirmed there was a reserve there, named as "The Myrtle Forest", and I headed for the hills.
Arriving, I realised that the area had changed out of all recognition from my last visit, it sported a formal car park, and a formal road in, and I set off down the track with high hopes. I passed the picnic hut and started the climb and shortly came across a trio fungi hunting, one of whom was David Ratkovsky, a birder from way back, whom some of the long time birders will recall. He co-authored 2 papers on the birds of the Mt Wellington Range. After a chat, I decided that I'd take one of the side tracks that I'd passed earlier, which, apart from anything else, gave more chance of photography than the heavier rainforest. That proved a good move!
At first I thought the track was probably an old, now overgrown, fire trail, but debris along the track suggests it was probably an early logging access road. Much of this area was destroyed in the 1967 bushfires that ravaged much of what is now, the Wellington Park. The climb took me away from the manfern-lined creek, into more open forest, with a thick understory of shrubs and cutting grass. The predominant birds were Crescent Honeyeaters, noisy as ever, Eastern Spinebills, Tasmanian Scrubwrens, and small parties of passing Tasmanian Thornbills, one individual briefly posing for me, (pictured at top right). Overhead, there were numerous flocks of Strong-billed Honeyeaters feeding in the tops of the eucalypts, several Green Rosellas, not to mention the noisy flocks of Black Currawong, flighting down the mountainside.
As the track narrowed, largely with encroaching cutting grass, and the bush either side became denser and wetter, I saw the first of several Olive Whistlers, feeding on the track. I stopped to photograph it, a female. As I stood there, I became aware of first one, then a flock of perhaps 10-12, Scrubtits feeding among this dense scrub. I think this is the largest flock that I've ever sighted. A few ventured to the edge of the scrub, enabling me to get a shot or two, one of which is shown at left. They were gleaning insects from both the trunks and leaves, and in a short while, had moved on. Perhaps, as their name suggests, this is their true habitat, but it's not the habitat that I usually associate them with. Perhaps I've been looking in the wrong place! I also saw and photographed the first of several Pink Robins that I recorded along the track, mostly males. It was interesting to notice the difference in their calls, one had a call that had a 'fault' in it, sounding rather like a vinyl record that had been badly scratched! I tried, unsuccessfully, to photograph the Tasmanian Scrubwrens, of which there were many ensconced in the thick scrub, but they were quite content to stay there and scold me as I passed. While having one last try at photographing them, I was 'rewarded' by having a solitary Yellow-throated Honeyeater, alight on the underside of an overhanging branch just above my head, and feed by pulling the bark back to expose insects, (bottom image), and in case you're wondering, it is the right way round! Like all of the Tasmanian endemic honeyeaters, and somewhat in contradiction of their name, they spend much of their time searching for insects under the bark of trees, displaying great agility in the process.
All in all, a great morning, and I managed to 'shoot' a number of other species in the process, which I hope to blog soon. In the right conditions, this is a great area to bird.

Dusky Moorhen & More

A recent phone call from Bob Patterson, a long time friend and birder, set me scanning the skies for 'swifts', well White-throated Needletails, to give them their proper name. It was a week or so ago, before the 'big blow', and on a day forecasting a thunderstorm. Bob had mentioned hundreds over his suburb of Blackman's Bay, but I only managed distant views of small numbers around the hills and over the Derwent River, from Bellerive. 'Swifts' seem to be far less frequently observed in the Hobart area these days, and I often spend time expectantly scanning the clouds during suitable weather conditions. By suitable weather, I'm referring to warm humid days, preceding storm fronts.
Bob and I go way back, to arguably the heyday of the local birding scene ('70s and '80s), certainly as far as amateur scientific work is concerned. Today, quite rightly, the emphasis is more on conservation. I suspect, like me, he takes a somewhat jaundiced view of some of today's 'instant experts', in a hurry to show their limited knowledge of the local birding scene! (Perhaps we were similarly perceived by the established birders when we first started).
Bob also mentioned that on an old farm dam, close to the Antarctic Division's HQ at Kingston, he had seen some Dusky Moorhen and Australasian Grebe. Neither are these days considered to be rare in Tasmania, but certainly worthy of mention. The grebe has always been a bit thin on the ground, most often found on farm dams, and was considered rare during the first Australian Bird Atlas (1977-1981). The first breeding record was in 1965, since when a slow increase has occurred. The similar, Hoary-headed Grebe, is widely recorded around the state.
The Dusky Moorhen is a more recent 'invader', first recorded on Flinders Island in 1935, and present and breeding since the 1960s, on King Island. By 1977 it was recorded as breeding in the Launceston area (I can remember seeing them there then, on the surrounds of the then Launceston tip). From that time there has been a gradual southward range expansion.
An early morning visit to Kingston found 4 Australasian Grebe, and a similar number of Dusky Moorhen, as well as a few Black Duck, and 2 Eurasian Coot, on the less than one hectare pond. Trying to get close enough for worthwhile images, particularly of the rather timid moorhens, proved difficult, almost to the point of total failure! The pond is fringed by reeds and protected by an impenetrable 'hedge' of Blackberry bushes, but eventually I 'scrambled' the accompanying images after several circuits of the dam. Watching the moorhens, there appeared to be 2 juveniles (one pictured at lower right), an adult (top right), and an 'intermediate' plumaged bird (upper left).
While compiling this piece, I've spent sometime looking at various images of moorhens, and the bird that I've described as "intermediate", still seems to be odd. It certainly seems to lack the white undertail feathers which is present even in the younger birds. I'm leaning towards the possibility that it is a hybrid cross between coot and moorhen, but with my limited recent acquaintance with Dusky Moorhen, I'm hesitant to be categoric! Certainly there are records of coot and moorhen hybridising in Europe, so that could be a possibility. It spends all its time with the other duskies, so it thinks it's a Dusky! Not sure whether such a cross has been recorded in Australia. It also fits with the possibility of it being a parent of the two younger birds. Probably of academic interest only, but I'd still like to hear from anyone having any thoughts on this.
The Australasian Grebes were far easier to approach, but being much smaller, presented other issues. Although I've seen both of these species many times over the years, this was the first time I've managed to photograph them, so a 'thank you' to Bob!
[NB.The area surrounding the dam will soon be a housing estate, although I understand the dam will be retained.]

The Big Blow

It would be remiss of me not to at least mention in passing, the big blow that hit wide areas of Tasmania in the early hours of yesterday (Thursday) morning. With winds reaching a reported 176km/hr on a nearby hill, I can confirm that it was an horrendous, sleepless night. Many houses suffered damage, most of it relatively minor (loss of roofing etc), and many hundreds of trees were damaged or blown down, some taking out power lines causing blackouts (nearly 5 hours in my case). After an inspection of the outside of the house, thankfully intact, and removing some of the tree debris from my garden, I drove to a nearby vantage point overlooking the Derwent River. From there I took the accompanying shot of one of several Australasian Gannets fishing offshore, their white plumage contrasting against the dullness of the morning. They were among many hundreds of 'muttonbirds', (the local name for the Short-tailed Shearwater), living up to their name, flying fast and low over the water. Close inspection through the bins., I noticed scores of Crested Terns, and way down the river, 2 Giant Petrel, unfortunately too far away for me to ID whether they were Northern or Southern. By mid morning the strong winds had abated and so had all the action in the river, but the memory of the big blow will not be so easily forgotten!

"Happy Hour" at Gould's Lagoon.

Nearly a week ago, with rain forecast for later in the day, I decided to make a dash out to Gould's Lagoon in the hope that there might be sufficient exposed mud for the crakes to put in an appearance. In that regard I was out of luck, and there was little on the lagoon to excite me, with only 40 odd Coot, and a few duck, mainly Chestnut Teal. I wandered down to the bird hide, (which I think the council has given up on cleaning, and who can blame them!) From the hide I noted a few Purple Swamphens, 2 Kelp Gulls, and the roost of Little Pied and Little Black Cormorants in a tree overlooking the lagoon. I emerged from the hide just in time to note a passing Caspian Tern, a species I've rarely recorded here, but is often seen hawking over the nearby Derwent Marshes at this time of year. A little deflated by the lack of birds, I drove back to the highway, parked, and start my rounds of that side of the lagoon, just as the sun came out. This seemed to mark the start of a hive of activity, starting with a fly by over the nearby marsh, of a White-breasted Sea Eagle, hotly pursued by a number of Kelp Gulls. Perhaps it was this that started a procession of ducks, mostly Black Duck and Chestnut Teal, with a few Blue-winged Shoveler, winging in from the Derwent River. As I walked along the side of the highway, the 2 Black Swan pictured at top, came low over the road and alighted among the reeds. A few steps later and several Crested Terns, including a few juvenile birds, started hunting over the open water, occasionally diving, seemingly unsuccessfully, while their young sat atop posts, calling for food. The large gathering of Masked Plover sitting on top of the railway embankment started to get very agitated, calling loudly. I stopped and looked around, half expecting to see a Swamp Harrier, a common sight during the Summer, but most have departed. Deciding that whatever had disturbed them had passed on, I nearly missed the high speed pass of an Australian Hobby. My reaction was to try to photograph it, which really was a nonsense! It flew very low, very fast, over the northern end of the reserve, heading towards the river, picking up yet more speed as it passed the rail line, and down to the marshes. A fantastic sight, and the first time I've recorded this species here. (I think I should just mention at this point that I thought I sighted a wagtail! My view was against the light, and near the railway embankment, and very briefly, as it flew in the typical undulating flight, disappearing over the bank. I did look for it, without success, and the probability is that I was mistaken.)
I ambled back towards the car, stopping to photograph a male Blue-winged Shoveler (bottom right), a species that is a regular here and in the nearby Derwent Marshes. As I stood there, I heard the unmistakable screeches of an approaching Sulphur-crested Cockatoo. Landing among the 50 odd roosting cormorants, still screeching, proved too much for the cormorants, and they took flight, circling the lagoon. A bonus for me, as I took numerous shots as they passed. The roost was largely composed of Little Pied (c.30) and Little Black (c.20), and a few Great. While I was here, I also photographed 2 individual Little Black Cormorants carrying 'vegetation', one of which is illustrated at lower left. This suggests to me, that they may well be breeding nearby-- both birds flew off heading North. This species has been recorded breeding locally before, but there are relatively few recent breeding records for Tasmania.
The above episode had taken less than an hour, so despite missing out on the crakes, I think I can justifiably say that I had indeed had a "happy hour" at Gould's!
[NB Before someone corrects me, the Blue-winged Shoveler is now known as the Australasian Shoveler--at least it is according to my field guide!]

Long Haul to Fledging.......Pied Oystercatcher

I've watched the progress of two Pied Oystercatcher chicks over the past few months as they've grown. They are the progeny of a pair of POs that nest close by the oyster sheds at Pipeclay Lagoon. Their first attempt was most probably washed out, as they nested on a shingle bank close to the high tide line. This is a familiar fate for many oystercatcher nests, and with global warming bearing down on us, this is a potentially serious threat. I never found these chicks at the newly hatched stage, and I'm guessing that the age of the two at top right, is about a couple of weeks. The shot taken around the third week of January. As you can see, they're both in the water, and the high tide strategy against predators, is to swim away. PO young are accomplished divers too, and will dive, as a last resort, when hotly pursued.
The shot of the 2 youngsters running, was taken on the 8th February, and by now there is a marked difference in their size. Less than 2 weeks later, towards the end of February, one runner had disappeared, and I can only speculate on the cause. Given the size difference, perhaps it was food related, but predation from a range of likely suspects, ranging from harriers to gulls is possible, as is the possibility they were taken by cats or dogs. The latter a real possibility, as I've seen dogs being exercised off lead, along this very narrow stretch of beach.
By the end of the first week of March, when the shot of the remaining chick with one of its parents was taken, the chick is approaching fledging, but still dependent on its parents for food. This juvenile was soliciting the adult for food, constantly walking round and round its parent. Occasionally it would flex its wings, and the primaries were clearly not fully developed for flight. By the 18th of March, success, it could finally fly! Rather hesitantly, and somewhat reluctantly, but it could fly. So after around 8 weeks it had made it, but its still dependent on a parent to feed it.
I'll continue to keep an eye on its progress.

A Walk on the Wildside

Mid week, I had this sudden urge to spend some time birding a buttongrass plain. Having spent many hours walking them, in all weathers, and generally finding them close to a birding desert, I'm not quite sure why I had this urge! (I took part in a fortnight's scientific survey in a similar area, in the SW of Tasmania, in which we only recorded 24 species of birds in a fortnight). I chose to drive out to the Scott's Peak Road, some 30 kilometres West of Maydena, and an area that has numerous, extensive areas of buttongrass. Buttongrass is a sedge that grows on some of the most nutrient poor soils found anywhere. The 'buttons" are the seed heads produced at the top of stems. They are widespread in many poorly drained areas of Tasmania. Turning off the Gordon Road at Frodsham's Pass and on to the Scott's Peak Road, I eventually stopped at a spot between and below, Mt. Bowes and Mt. Anne. It had potential, I thought, with a line of stunted and flowering Banksia marginata along one side of the road, and a buttongrass plain that had been burnt, probably around 12 months ago, the sedge having recovered, on the other. The temperature was still fairly cool, below 10C, and there was a heavy mist hanging over the whole valley, but it appeared to be burning off rapidly. As soon as I got out of my car, I could hear and see that I appeared to have chosen the spot well. In quick succession, I spotted Crescent and New Holland Honeyeaters in abundance, many off them obviously this season's crop, most of them noisily chasing one another. I noted a young Pink Robin (way out of its usual habitat), several Dusky Robins, and a couple of Striated Fieldwrens. Buttongrass plains are to my mind, the habitat for Striated Fieldwrens . In the Spring, you can often find them in abundance, calling from the tops of the sedges, especially early in the morning, and again in the evening. Well I always take any opportunity that presents itself to photograph these elusive birds, so I set off in pursuit, so to speak. They took the opportunity to cross the road and take refuge in the burnt stunted banksias, so I followed. Well actually I would like to have followed, but I was confronted with a 3 metre deep ditch, which I thought I could jump, but decided to look for an easier access point. After much searching, I found a spot and soon found a 'heap' of fieldwrens, many of them running between the tussocks, giving no real chance of photography. As you can see (top left) a single bird took pity on me long enough to get a shot or two. There followed a procession of birds that used the skeletal remains of banksia, teatree and hakea shrubs, as a vantage point to catch flying insects. The female Crescent Honeyeater (pictured top right), alighted close enough for this 'full frame' shot, finally catching a small moth almost off my shoelaces! It was only a few minutes after that encounter that I noticed an orange 'blob', standing out against the burnt teatree some 50 metres away. It was one of those moments that stay in your mind, a quick look through the binoculars, yes! it was a Southern Emu-wren, a bird that you often hope to see in these situations, but seldom do. One of the iconic birds of Tassie's more remote areas. I've seen a good number over the years, and I don't think they're that uncommon in the South West, but they are very elusive, as I was about to find out. I stalked 'them', it transpired that there were 4 or 5 individuals, for sometime, trying to get close enough for a meaningful photograph, and took several record shots as I did. The two images shown here (lower right and left) are all I managed, and that they're even recognisable owes more to the benifits of digital photography, than any skill on my part! Eventually they just disappeared, and although I was quite confident which small piece of scrub they were hiding in, no amount of 'coaxing' drew them out. I guess I'll be revisiting this spot. After all the excitement and concentration, I retraced my steps to the car, realising as I did, that I was heavily covered in charcoal streak marks from the burnt scrub, but thinking that it was a small price to pay for an engaging morning.

On the Move.......Crescent Honeyeater

I had an interesting visit to the Long Spit at Marion Bay a couple of days ago, but not for the reasons I expected. I had chosen an early morning with a high tide, in the hope of seeing waders and terns. I did indeed see Crested and Caspian Terns, together with the usual Kelp, Pacific and Silver Gulls, but the waders were a bit light on, only recording Pied and Sooty Oystercatchers, and a small number of Hooded Plovers.
As I neared the end of the Spit, and right at the end of the vegetation covered dunes, I heard the unmistakable call of a Crescent Honeyeater, and went to investigate. It's not unusual to find honeyeaters among the wattles almost anywhere in the dunes, but they're much more likely to be New Hollands, but this morning there were only Crescents. Crescent Honeyeaters are usually found during the Summer months, in wetter areas, or at higher elevations, moving into the coastal strips and suburban gardens during Autumn. It will probably be a month or two before they return to my suburban garden, but here they were definitely on the move. I sat in the dune and began to photograph them as they reached the last vestige of bush, and several males called from the top of the low growing wattles, stopping briefly to chase one another or the odd female. While I sat there waiting, I noticed that small groups of two or three birds, were actually crossing the Marion Bay narrows to the wooded area several hundred metres away to the South. I had noticed movements of birds across this 'gap' before, but they were mainly New Hollands, Silvereyes and Eastern Spinebills. These Crescents were probably from the Wielangta Forest, several kilometres away to the North, as they were notably absent there on a recent visit. I've often wondered why these honeyeaters are so vocal during the non breeding season, some males singing from the very tops of trees, seemingly competing in song, with other, equally vociferous, males. Possibly they're claiming rights over feeding territory, as generally speaking, these honeyeaters are not a flocking species. The females are noticeably smaller, and as you may see in the lowest image, sport a much plainer plumage.
During my half hour vigil, perhaps 30 birds left, males outnumbering females, to cross the narrows, all being quickly replaced by other individuals. At one point I thought the 'procession' had finished , but they had seen what I had failed to see, a passing White-breasted Sea Eagle. I had my back to it, but should have been alerted to it by the larger gulls calling loudly, with a few daring to harass it. After a few minutes, the flights resumed, but I had had my fill, and moved on to watch and photograph the Crested Terns, perhaps I'll post more on that later.

Sandspit River Track

Yesterday, the first half decent day for sometime, saw me heading off for the Wielangta Forest. The weather lately, while not producing much rain, has been blustery and cold--I have to admit to having turned the heater on a couple of times last week, a first for any Tasmanian February that I can recall!
I followed my usual routine, a stop at the picnic area, and then on to the Northern end of the Sandspit River track. This area is fast becoming one of my all time favourites, only soured slightly by being an hour's drive from home.
The stop at the picnic area produced the usual Pink Robin (top left), and I could hear it calling as I opened the car door. I spent 20 minutes or so here, waiting for an opportunity to get a shot and it graciously allowed me to take a few images. While I waited, I watched several passing Tasmanian Thornbills gleaning insects from the underside of leaves, and listened to the calling Strongbilled Honeyeaters high overhead in the towering eucalypts. Having snared my shots of the robin, it was time to take the short drive to the Northern end of the track.
Another Pink Robin greeted me as I parked, which I took as a good omen. It was still fairly cool, but very still, with warmer air from the sunlit patches, wafting over me as I walked. Little stirred over the next 3 or 4 hundred metres, except small groups of Bennett's and Rufous Wallaby scuttling off through the scrub, and the local Kookaburras putting on a noisy show. I moved quickly, deeper into the forested areas.
As I reached the first of the Man Ferns, I heard, and shortly flushed the first of many Green Rosellas, and I could hear a lone Golden Whistler calling. I stopped and listened at a spot that I had previously seen and photographed Scrubtits. I was glad that it was so still, as I soon realised that, right on cue, I could hear a group of Scrubtits feeding in the light scrub 20 or more metres away, and occasionally calling. A little "pishing" (an imitation 'scolding' bird call), saw them approach to a few metres, and I managed a record shot, but no more. A few Tasmanian Scrubwrens put in a wary appearance too, as did several Tasmanian Thornbills. Moving on, 2 Brush Bronzewings momentarily startled me, as they flushed from among the scrub only a few metres away. But it must have been my lucky day, as I shortly found the Brush Bronzewing (pictured), standing mid track, obviously well aware of my presence, but staying long enough to get a few shots in, before it too, flushed, with much 'clapping' of wings. I was to find several more during the course of the walk, probably totaling a dozen or more, quite the most I've seen in one area, for some years. Another stop for a glimpse of Scrubtits, more "pishing", but this time I only got a response from a lone Olive Whistler. It came and had a look at me fr
om among the dense scrub, and obviously unimpressed with what it saw, disappeared back into the bush! The next highlight was the sight of the first of several Bassian Thrushes, feeding along the track,
culminating in one that allowed sufficiently close approach for some shots. In fact the individual pictured, instead of scurrying off into the scrub, actually chose to run toward me for a closer inspection (obviously a bird with taste!).
With increasing cloud cover, and with a forecast of rain, I thought it prudent to retrace my steps to the car. It had been a great morning, and I had managed a few shots of species that are among the more difficult to photograph. The amount of light penetrating the forest here is low, and all the shots were taken at speeds of less than 1/50th of a second, with a telephoto lens. Those with photographic knowledge will know that is 'pushing your luck' and indeed many of the shots suffered accordingly, but I got away with the few shown here. A recommended walk on suitable days.

Tassie's Endemic Parrot.....Green Rosella

I must plead guilty to ignoring the Tasmanian endemic birds all too often. I often mention them in passing, and seeing this purports to be a blog about Tasmanian birds, I must make more effort to show them in all their 'glory'. The truth is, many of them are not that showy, and in the parrot stakes, the Green Rosella is not considered to be among the showiest. But a recent brief encounter, made me realise that I might be selling them short.
This rosella, the largest of the rosellas, is commonly found in much of the treed areas of the state throughout the year. During the cooler months, some resort to open paddocks and suburban parks, attracted by rosehips, thistle seeds, and similar, sometimes in flocks of 20 or so.
The accompanying shots were taken at that well known waterhole in the Meehan Range. They're very wary in their approach to water, often sitting in nearby trees for several minutes and if they're not happy it's safe, they'll take flight with much excited calling. The birds shown here, were part of a flock of around 6 individuals, mostly immature birds, and eventually, one thought it was safe enough and dropped down to the water, and the others quickly followed. I was standing on the dam wall, and looking down on these bathers mostly through the light scrub and only about 4 metres away from them. It's always thrilling to watch or photograph birds from close quarters as they go about their business, but as these were in deep shade and only visible through the scrub, I had to be content to just watch. Fortunately, one eventually chose a spot in a patch of sunlight, slightly farther away, enabling me to set about getting some photographs. It was while I watched this individual, splashing happ
ily in the shallow and somewhat murky water, that one of those memorable instants occurred. In the low angle light of the early sun, the individual beads of water that it had splashed onto its back, stood out like diamonds. That, coupled with the intense bright blue of the splayed tail, was absolutely splendid. I am usually pretty pragmatic about photographing birds, concentrating intently in recording the moment, but the colours displayed were quite moving. The only downside is that I don't think the image quite does it justice, (or match my rhetoric!). You'll just have to take my word for it.
After several minutes watching them peacefully wash and drink, it all came to a sudden, noisy end. I was aware of a large bird that shot past me, heading towards the rosellas. They shot off in all directions screaming their "cusick" call. The culprit turned out to be an immature Grey Butcherbird, possibly trying to ambush nearby Brown Thornbills, also washing. Whatever it was after, it missed, and quickly left, pursued by a female Satin Flycatcher. All in all, another memorable outing.

Meehan Range Blue-winged Parrots

Arguably, one of the more interesting birds of the Redgate section of the Meehan Range, is the Blue-winged Parrot. I have seen a few on recent visits, and even managed a photo or two, as you can see. Twenty or more years ago, I had a study area here, and we (my son Matthew and I), would often hear the unmistakable 'tinkling' call of these parrots as they flew over high up. They were so high, that we only rarely saw them, and this eventually led to climbing the hills to look for them. We eventually discovered several nest sites along the ridge of the hills. I'm nowhere as fit as I was in those days, and the thought of the climb doesn't fill me with enthusiasm! (Perhaps I should get a lift up there on one of the illegal off road bikes that plague this area! They must be good for something). Occasionally, I've come across them feeding in the open, dry grassed areas near the entrance, usually in pairs, but all these images were taken at the waterhole, some kilometre farther in. The waterhole is fast drying, and it will take more than the recent heavy showers to stop it drying out completely very soon.
You can never guarantee what might turn up at the waterhole, some days it really hums with birds, others, seemingly identical, and there's little action. This day there were plenty of fantails and flycatchers, but I've photographed them so much lately, that I pick my shots with care. Also a few Striated Pardalotes, Silvereyes, the usual Brown Thornbills, Yellow
-throated and Black-headed Honeyeaters, Dusky, Flame, and Scarlet Robins, (most of them this year's young) and a succession of Green Rosellas, the latter arriving to bathe. Sometimes I get so engrossed in watching some small piece of behaviour by one species, that I fail to notice a new arrival. And that's what happened with the Bluewings shown here. I glanced up at some movement almost overhead, and there, only a few metres away was the Bluewing illustrated at top right. And that was the only shot I managed, before it flew. Fortunately it joined a few others that had landed, unseen by me, on the far side of the waterhole and they warily approached to drink. A little too far away for great shots of what is after all, a "budgie" sized bird, but you take what you're given. They drank and sunbathed for a while, before suddenly flushing and disappearing into the treed area up the valley. The top two shots are adult birds, and the lower right a juvenile. I'm hoping the water in the waterhole will hold out just a little longer, and I get another opportunity to photograph these delightful parrots.

Eastern Curlew and Whimbrel

Mona asked the questions "What's the best way to tell apart Whimbrel and Curlew, and where's the best place to see them?" (in comments in the last post). So I've placed a few images here to highlight the differences, largely for the benefit of those birders who spend little or no time watching waders (shame on you!). Curlew on the left, Whimbrel on the right. Looking at them the differences may seem obvious, however, in reality you'll often be watching them from a considerable distance in a heat haze, when it's more challenging. Curlews are considerably bigger, in fact the largest of our migrant waders, and the stand out is the bill length. Whimbrel are a similar size to Bar-tailed Godwit, and have their own claim to fame as having one of the most widespread distribution of any migrant wader, being found over much of the World's coastlines.
In the South of Tasmania, Eastern Curlew are found during the Summer months, in the Orielton Lagoon, Barilla Bay, Sorell and Five Mile Beach areas. (In the North, the Tamar River in the vicinity of Georgetown is a good spot for both species). Presently there's a flock of around 70 or 80 birds, frequenting the southern areas I've mentioned . A few may overwinter. Whimbrels are a lot thinner on the ground, but occasionally consort with the curlews, notably in Orielton Lagoon. One has been present in Ralph's Bay for many months and is easiest seen there at high tide on the Lauderdale spit, usually roosting with a small flock of Bar-tailed Godwits. You might be lucky and find the curlew there too, as mentioned in the previous post.
Once you've found a few of both, I think you'll have little problems in IDing them.
[NB. Please approach roosting waders with care. Undue disturbance, particularly at this time of year, while they're putting on fat to enable them to safely make the return journey to their breeding grounds, should be avoided.]