A Painted Button-Quail

Although I'm out and about birding more than most, at least on the local scene, I rarely see anything other than the expected, and this one so very nearly 'got away'.
I visited the Redgate section of the Meehan Range at Cambridge last Tuesday, with high expectations of getting a few more shots of the Satin Flycatchers or Blue-winged Parrots. Last week I had counted a group of no less than eleven 'Satins' at one point, mostly juveniles and quite the largest number I have ever seen at one time. But the weather intervened, and although it didn't rain, the light conditions became very poor, at least from a photographic standpoint. I had even wound the camera up to ISO 800, something I've not bothered doing previously, because if the light's that bad, you're probably going to battle to get any worthwhile images.
I was about to leave, when I noticed a movement on a nearby bank. Obviously a bird and creeping towards an area of thick scrub. Expecting it to be a Bronzewing pigeon as I had heard what I assumed was that species calling from nearby, but just as it disappeared I ID it as a Quail, a species I have yet to photograph, and rarely see these days. I waited for it to emerge from 'my side' of the scrub, but to no avail. Some minutes later I spotted it again slowly moving across a rise about 30 metres away. So with little enthusiasm or expectation, and with great difficulty in focusing on this very cryptic bird in the gloom, I took several shots. Before I had time to use the binoculars, it had crept off.
An hour or so later and back home, I scanned the few images that I had taken that morning, and surprise, surprise! As you can see from the accompanying image, it turned out to be a Painted Button-quail. Decidedly uncommon these days, or perhaps I should say, surprisingly rarely recorded, and only the third time I've seen this species in Tasmania. Reading up on them, I see that they too have an 'oom oom' call, similar to the bronzewing's, something to remember. Not the best image, it's highly enlarged, but it did make my morning.

Year of the Blue-winged Parrot

Judging from the amount of correspondence I have received, it looks as if the past breeding season has been particularly successful for the Blue-winged Parrot, at least in Tasmania's South-East. These parrots disperse to suitable grasslands post breeding, and it's then that numbers of them are first noticed. My first encounter this year was at Mortimer Bay, Sandford, in small parties of 3 to 5, most probably family groups, back in early January, an earlier date than usual. But I've had reports from as far South as Coningham, also from Kingston, Cambridge, Risdon Brook Park and the Coal River valley. Most were seen in grasslands, as you might expect, although I've seen several groups in the wooded areas of the Meehan Range.
I suspect that the good Winter and Spring rains, the highest rainfall for many years, was the main driver. It produced abundant grass, the seeds, according to the literature, being a major food source. The partly digested seeds are regurgitated to feed the nestlings, and also the female during incubation. From personal experience, for much of the time while they're nesting, you're much more likely to hear, rather than see them. Their "tinkling" call can often be heard as they fly high overhead, to and from the nest site.
Both the accompanying photographs were taken in the Meehan Range in the last few days. The upper shot, of a female I believe, was in a flock of 7 that came down to drink. After drinking, they flew to the shallow end of the pool to wash where they were quickly joined by several Green Rosellas, a not infrequent event. They seem to form a sort of "mutual defence pact", the Bluewings being very alert to anything unusual. The lower image is of a juvenile bird that appeared on its lonesome, stayed briefly, obviously didn't like the look of me, and flew off.
This small parrot, (it's about the size of a domestic budgerigar), is one of my favourites and some years ago now, I was fortunate enough to be involved in a project on this species. The project included a visit to the 'Woolnorth' property in the far North West corner of Tasmania, in Autumn, where they gather prior to migrating to the Australian Mainland. Despite the horrendously wet conditions we encountered, the sight of flocks of 3 or 4 hundred Bluewings wheeling en masse, often being harried by Australian Hobbys, both great aerialists, is one of those memories that I treasure.

Rumblings at Gould's Lagoon.......Crakes

Suffering from some undiagnosed 'issue' with my lower leg, and having limited mobility, I have taken the opportunity to visit Gould's Lagoon at Granton several times and just sit among the reeds and watch and wait. The main aim of this exercise was to get some shots of Little Grassbirds, which at the moment are both numerous and active. Most are juvenile birds from what appears to have been a successful breeding season. On my first visit in early January, most of the youngsters were still at least partly dependent on their parents for food and the birds called frequently, so I got a good idea of their whereabouts--rather useful in thick reedbeds! It also meant that by imitating their call (a series of 2 to 4 rather mournful whistles), I had a chance of attracting them. However, this often meant their approach was rather skulking, and, frustratingly, I could see them only a metre or so away, looking at me rather quizzically through the mass of reeds, and certainly quite impossible to photograph.
While I sat there, trying hard not to dwell too much on the fact that my backside was getting ever damper, I noticed a movement to my left, low among the reeds several metres away. Feeding avidly on unseen invertebrates in the shallow (stinking!) water, and approaching ever closer, was an adult Australian Crake. I can't say that it was entirely unexpected, as I had seen a Spotless Crake in an adjacent reedbed from the roadway, but a great find nonetheless. I should mention here that it was a very still morning, no wind, and the sounds and smells from nearby houses were wafting my way. The crake, one of three I saw that first morning, seemed unfazed by sounds of large construction vehicles passing, a goods train, passing cyclists talking loudly, or even my camera shutter, which in the still, sounded like a machine gun. It was soon joined by a youngster (seen above), which kept close in to the reeds. Presumably it hadn't yet quite got used to the sounds of "civilisation", because the slightest sound saw it disappear into the vegetation. The adult came ever closer, and I took many shots. It's pertinent to mention here that these birds are only the size of a starling (with rather larger legs), so close is "good". I couldn't believe it hadn't seen me as I wasn't hidden, and the sound of the shutter seemed so loud. Well, I've found one noise it definitely didn't like--the rumblings of my stomach! I'm afraid I've 'suffered' all my adult life with a grumbling stomach. I've kept meetings amused, certainly when among people I know, but among strangers it can be embarrassing, and I've taken to sitting in the back row if possible. The crake took off at lightning speed, and at first I looked around for the cause, but a repeat performance half an hour later, revealed me as the culprit.
I've been back a few times since, and the juvenile crake image was taken more recently and it's now beginning to show the typical crake markings. I've also managed several shots of the grassbirds, but they appear without warning to feed on the edge of the reeds, and several times I've missed great opportunities while watching the crakes. One is sometimes faced with a dilemma, do I concentrate on the crakes or the grassbirds, and although I must have taken hundreds of shots of the crakes and few of the grassbirds, I do still find the crakes rather fascinating. I just hope they'll forgive my stomach.
Afterthought
Perhaps I should have added a possible explanation to the "rumblings" before you dismiss the story as fanciful or worse. The various inhabitants communicate in the reedbeds by various calls, these crakes by a single note not dissimilar to a quieter, less harsh version of the swamphen's. They share this environment with Purple Swamphen, Tasmanian Native Hen, the occasional Coot, other crakes and possibly Lewin's Rail. Between them they have a variety of calls, many could be described as grunts or guttural in nature. So I suspect the crake with a youngster in tow on hearing a rumbling stomach, mistook it for one of these other inhabitants and using the precautionary principle, took off. Certainly the arrival of an adult Swamphen with juvenile in tow, caused a similar flap.
NB. If you wish to see more images of the crakes, click "Alan Fletcher's Bird Photo's" link at right, then click "Wetland Birds" .

Birds of Ironhouse Point

Ironhouse Point is situated on Tasmania's Eastcoast to the East of St. Mary's, and although it's not a recognised birding spot, the birds here are fairly typical of those of much of the coast from the Freycinet Peninsula to St. Helens. I spent around a week here, at a resort, with friends and family over the Christmas break, so birding was conducted somewhat ad hoc. Much of the forested area was 'devastated' in the extensive bushfires around 3 years ago, and is now mostly typical after fire regrowth.
I managed to bird most mornings, before everyone roused, and from many years of birding during the Summer months on the Eastcoast, this is the pick of the day, before the almost inevitable, euphemistically called, sea breeze comes in--a cooling, often strong, onshore wind. I totalled just over 50 species of birds, which included a few, such as Australasian Gannet and Black-faced Cormorant, only seen offshore, and single pairs of both Hooded Plover and Pied Oystercatcher on the beach. Surprisingly, honeyeaters were 'light on', the commonest and most widespread being Little Wattlebird, but also the odd Yellow Wattlebird, numerous New Holland, and several Yellow-throated. Most mornings found a range of birds sunning themselves in the early sun, including Pallid, Fan-tailed and Horsfield's Bronze cuckoos , but also Australasian Pipit (common, no skylarks), Black-faced Cuckoo-shrike, Dusky Woodswallow and Welcome Swallow.
The resort here boasts a substantial impoundment (stocked with trout), which attracted Great Cormorant, Pelican, Black Swan and a pair of Musk Duck. A drying swamp area behind the dunes held a surprise. While watching Superb Fairy-wrens, I could hear a solitary Striated Fieldwren calling, and in trying to find it, flushed first one, then another Latham's Snipe, an uncommon bird on this coast.
Brown and Yellow-rumped Thornbills were common, as were Grey Fantail. I recorded both Flame and Dusky Robins, but no Scarlets. Silvereye were widespread, particularly in the coastal wattles, as were the fairy-wrens, some seen carrying nesting material. A few White-fronted Chat were seen, all in the dunes or feeding among the beach wrack. While on the subject of small passerines, I noted in the Bird Atlas records, that the only thornbill recorded here was the Tasmanian, whereas I saw and photographed both Brown and Yellowrumped only. It's a point that has "worried" me for some years, and this habitat is not typical Tasmanian Thornbill country. This isn't an isolated instance, and I feel that some birders at least, are unable to tell 'brown' from 'Tasmanian'. I would suggest that if in doubt, they omit. I have to admit to sometimes having difficulty myself!
Both Striated and Spotted Pardalotes were common here, but I failed to record a single raptor, although I had seen a Sea Eagle a few miles to the South. The 'higher' predators seem to consist of a few Grey Butcherbird, Grey Shrike-thrush and Kookaburra. The only parrot species observed was a few Green Rosella. Around the buildings were the inevitable House Sparrow, Goldfinch, Starling, and Blackbird, but surprisingly, I didn't see a single Greenfinch, a common bird in coastal wattles A large family of Tasmanian Native Hens utilised the grassed areas, competing at times with wallabies and wombats. The accompanying images were all shot at Ironhouse Point. Great to get away from my usual haunts and a great family holiday too.

Trials & Tribulations of Hooded Plover

I'm well aware of many of the conservation issues faced by Hooded Plovers while breeding here in Tasmania, but seldom "see" it in action. A family getaway over the Christmas break gave me an all too closeup of the problems facing them while breeding. We stayed at a resort South of Falmouth boasting 2 beautiful, pure white, typical eastcoast beaches and I took little time in sussing them out for bird life. I quickly found a pair of Pied Oystercatchers which appeared to be the only shorebirds occupying either beach. But during an early morning walk the following day, I photographed a single Hooded Plover (at right) among the beach wrack. While walking back up the track through the dunes, I flushed another and came within an ace of stepping on their 3 eggs in a shallow scrape, mid track. From my observations over the years, this is not their preferred site, but as you can see from the image at top left, ever increasing tide heights have produced "sand cliffs", and the beaches they prefer are no longer available to safely nest on. Since the bush track was wide and not used by most of the holidaymakers, I thought that it was reasonably secure. How wrong I was!
A few days later, while I was fishing off the breakwater, a series of fellow visitors were enjoying rides on a jet ski nearby. As I found the constant sound of the jet ski a little wearing, I wasn't exactly sympathetic when it broke down on the next beach up. I didn't see what subsequently happened, so I can only guess. But the upshot was that a 4WD vehicle tried to access the bush track, probably to 'recover' the jet ski, and while trying (and failing) to get to the beach, completely buried the plover's nest, something I only discovered the following day. I'm not apportioning blame here, I would probably have done the same myself in similar circumstances.
A few days later on a nearby beach, my son found another hoodie's nest, this time at the top of a considerably wider beach and on the slope of the dune. In the meantime, I was attempting to photograph a pair of hoodies feeding on the tide line, undoubtedly the owners of the nest. I was all lined up as they neared me, but, concentrating on the birds, I was unaware of an approaching runner with dog. I caught sight of the dog at the last minute and captured the image at left.
These kinds of disturbance are, sadly, all too common, and these eastcoast beaches are relatively undisturbed. It does not augur well for the hoodies future, especially with global warming and subsequently higher tide heights kicking in and in so doing, denying these and other shorebirds, feeding and breeding places.

Have A Merry & Safe Christmas

Park Hotspot

I've spent many hours wandering the more distant parts of Risdon Brook Park, near Risdon Vale, on the eastern shore of the Derwent River. This area is a popular spot for walkers, cyclists, joggers and families, although they largely keep to the impoundments perimeter track. Visiting in early December, I took a track along the side of a small valley that I've found to be a good birding spot. My 'schedule' for this spot, is to stand and listen, noting the calling birds. First 'cab off the rank' on this morning was the unmistakable "tinkling" call of a Blue-winged Parrot. They usually call from the tops of the dead trees higher up the side of the valley, but are hard to spot, and I failed to find them on this morning, but I had consolation of finding a juvenile Flame Robin, still being fed by its parents. Calls came thick and fast after that, the distinctive call of a Satin Flycatcher and competing Golden Whistlers, contact calls of foraging Silvereyes, Green Rosellas and Musk Lorikeets. Close by Brown Thornbills and Superb Fairy-wrens scolded me as I passed. As I stopped to watch them I noticed a bird that I couldn't ID, rapidly cross the valley, and I spent a while trying to locate it. It turned out to be a juvenile Horsfields Bronze-cuckoo, which appeared to be begging food from both the thornbills and wrens. While still focused on these birds, I heard the distinctive, somewhat mournful call of a Beautiful Firetail from the depths of the thick scrub lining the small creek running through the valley. Not uncommon in this reserve, I often hear them calling, but much less often see them. I stopped and sat at a vantage point overlooking the valley and was soon rewarded. Rarely getting to see them, let alone photograph them, this proved to be a red letter day. At least 2 pairs of Firetails, one seeming to have a helper in tow, were nest building. They were taking the material, in this case long grass stems, most measuring 30 cms or more, from high up the valley side, down into the scrub at the bottom. They passed many times, slowly and cautiously up, and rapidly down. As you can see by the accompanying images, they sometimes gave me a "photo opp.". It appeared that only one of the pair carried the material, the other riding shotgun. In the middle of all this excitement, I had several times heard a hawk calling from the canopy of nearby gums, but was reluctant to move. In the end curiosity got the better of me, and after some time searching, located the nest of a Brown Goshawk, high in a (photograhically) distant eucalypt. Surprisingly, since I was clearly visible to the female goshawk in the photo., she remained on the nest. I watched for sometime before the hawk eventually flew off and I wandered back to my 'firetail'
spot. In the next half hour or so, I was visited by Yellow Throated and Black-headed Honeyeaters, Silvereyes, a calling male Satin Flycatcher, Grey Shrike-thrush, and a Golden Whistler. I briefly heard a Swift Parrot from one of the tall blue gums, a species I have suspected may breed here. The goshawk continued to visit the nest, which almost certainly contained young, always calling as it neared, and only the female. Where was the male? I soon found out. A pair of Grey Currawong approached and was vigorously attacked by the previously unseen male, which briefly perched on a dead limb across the valley, before, presumably, returning to his vantage spot overlooking the nest site. Perhaps this was why the female called when approaching the nest? Didn't want to be mistaken for an intruder! As the morning wore on, the area quietened down, and I reluctantly left, having had another rewarding day in the park.

Vibrant Gould's Lagoon

I've made a couple of 'pilgrimages' to Gould's Lagoon at Granton this week, largely to get usable shots of Little Grassbirds. In the case of the grassbirds, it's still work in progress, for although I've shown the image at right, I've still got a way to go before I get what I'm after. Grassbirds aside, the visits have certainly been worthwhile, with evidence of a range of birds successfully breeding there.
My first surprise, as I stood watching the grassbirds, some carrying food, flit from reed clump to reed clump, was a family of Eurasian Coot, with four newly hatched chicks. I haven't noted any coot breeding here before, and during my visits this week, I counted a total of 4 pairs with young or eggs. While this may not be surprising given the large numbers often seen around this state, coot breeding in Tasmania is a relatively recent event. As recently as 1995, Bob Green in his "Fauna of Tasmania", reported "only rarely is it found breeding here". Other species with young included Chestnut Teal, Black Duck, Purple Swamphen, and Tasmanian Native Hen. As a local remarked, "they'll probably end up as harrier food", and indeed the local Swamp Harriers frequently patrol the reed beds.
I had received an email from a reader, saying that she had seen a Latham's Snipe at "Gould's", and indicating that it was near the "barking dogs" on the northern side of the lagoon. Not seeing that many snipe in recent years, I thought it was worth a look. Sure enough, as I walked along the track (and despite the accompaniment of barking dogs), I heard the snipe as it flushed and I watched as it sought shelter in the delta of a nearby stream. I sought a better view, but before I got there, a second individual flushed, which in turn flushed the first, and all I could do is watch as they flew the length of the lagoon and pitched down near the main road.
On my second visit (in light rain), and despite my wary approach, I flushed an individual, which once again pitched down in the nearby streamside vegetation. I walked back to the bank above said stream and stood scanning the heavily vegetated far bank. After what seemed ages, and as I was about to venture closer, I realised I was looking straight at the snipe, perhaps 20 metres away! I took several shots, all identical, one shown above. How lucky can you get!. When reviewing the shots on my PC, I realised what an exquisitely marked bird this snipe is--absolutely beautiful. Once again, Gould's Lagoon is worth a visit.

The Spirit of King Canute...Red Knot

One of the few Latin bird names I remember is that of the Red Knot, Calidris canutus. It stems from my now distant childhood and the story of King Canute. As I recall, it was then suggested that his courtiers told him that he was so powerful that he could command the tide not to come in and he got very wet in the process--stupid git! Today, I see that the boot's on the other foot, so to speak. It's now suggested that he got wet to prove to his courtiers that he was not more powerful than God.
For many years I thought that this event was immortalised in the Latin canutus referring to the Knot. I fondly watched Knot feed on the tide line, and occasionally take to the water, reinforcing this thought. The truth is that the call of the Knot is written as "knut knut", which also happens to be the old Norse word for Canute. I think I prefer my version--another childhood story shattered.
Recently the spit at Lauderdale, in Ralph's Bay, has been graced with the presence of first one, and more recently two, Red Knot. Not that uncommon in Tasmania, and often seen in the company of Bar-tailed Godwit, numbers in recent years suggest a decline. Surprisingly tame, I took the opportunity to get numerous images, a few shown here, while looking for a mystery wader that was reported to be among the Red-necked Stint flock. One bird that I did see, as I parked my vehicle alongside of the nearby canal, was a sandpiper that I suspect was a Common Sandpiper--a decidedly uncommon sandpiper in Tasmania. I did subsequently see 'the' reported Common Sandpiper at the mouth of the Clarence Plains Rivulet, across the bay from Lauderdale.
While in the area, I visited the now full, Clear and Rushy Lagoons, observing a flock of 30+ Hardhead, another uncommon species in this state.

Ralph's Bay's Feisty Locals

Perhaps mirroring the fight that locals (and many others) fought over the Ralph's Bay Conservation Area at Lauderdale, I witnessed the event, pictured at left, a few days ago.
For many years a pair of Pied Oystercatchers have nested on the end of the Lauderdale Spit. Unfortunately for this resident pair, it's also a spot where many other birds choose to roost at the top of the tide. Mostly they have to contend with other oystercatchers, sometimes numbering a hundred or more, one of the largest roosts you'll find anywhere. But they also need to defend their territory against gulls, Silver, Kelp and Pacific, and, as you can see, the odd White-faced Heron. The pair of oystercatchers at left of the image, started on the oystercatchers that I had disturbed from further down this little peninsula, and once 'wound up', took on all-comers. This hapless heron, that had been fishing in the drainage ditch as the tide rose, lobbed down almost in front of them and immediately became the centre of their attention. Confused at first, it tried several times to find another spot to land, but these oystercatchers were determined that shouldn't happen! Amazing what determined locals can do when their 'space' is threatened!

......and on to Orielton Lagoon

Feeling that I'd probably already used up my birding luck (see previous blog), I wasn't that enthusiastic about donning gum boots and plodding through the Orielton mud. Gone are the halcyon days when many of the rarer waders were seemingly regularly seen here. Such birds as Oriental Plover and Ruff spring to mind. Having said that, it's still one of the few places in southern Tasmania to see some of the less common migrant waders
My first surprise was to find a 'new' wetland, I believe courtesy of the release of 'grey' water from the nearby water treatment dams. With the high Winter and Spring rain, this water isn't required for irrigation purposes, but still has to go somewhere, hence the around one hectare wetland. My first encounter was with a Black-fronted Plover, well actually I only heard the characteristic "rattle" call, and sought it out. As I stood scanning the area of drying mud on the far side of the creek seeking the blackfont, I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye and only a few metres away. Second surprise, it was an Australian Crake, creeping away into the salt bush, flicking its' white under-tail as it did. This is the first I've ever seen here, and I've been a regular here for many years. Was the 'new' wetland the lure, or have they always been here?
I stood there for several minutes hoping to get a photo opp., but no reappearance, so back to the blackfronts. First one and then a second flew round, calling, and I got the impression that they were probably breeding close by. Moving on along the bank of the creek, about a 100 metres further on, I met 4 more blackfronts. Making a note to return to this spot for some attempt at photography I moved on, trying, unsuccessfully as it turned out, to avoid stirring up the breeding Kelp Gulls which "infest" the eastern side of this reserve. I quickly moved off, 'pursued' by calling gulls. They in turn disturbed a flock of Eastern Curlew and Bar-tailed Godwit, just visible a kilometre away, through the heat haze. I walked through the marsh towards the golf course to the East, disturbing a few Australasian Pipits and numerous Eurasian Skylarks. Overhead small flocks of Galahs and Corellas past, calling, and I scattered several family groups of White-fronted Chats. Keeping a wary eye on me were 2 pairs of Pied Oystercatcher, by their actions, breeding close by. My goal was a closer look at a flock of small waders, which proved, as expected, to be Red-necked Stint. Numbering around 500, one was colour flagged (banded in South Australia over 800kms away), and among their number was a solitary Sharp-tailed Sandpiper. Nearer the golf course, in a favourite posi., I could just make out a flock of Pacific Golden Plover, around 20. I left them in peace, and headed back to the blackfronts for an attempt at photography.
As you can see by the accompanying images, I was at least partially successful. These Black-fronted Plover have probably been 'pushed' out from the nearby overfull farm dams, as I've rarely recorded them here in recent years, and usually only an odd pair. I sat on the creek bank and 'allowed' them to come to me, which rather warily, they did, albeit on the far bank of the creek. But since I've only managed a few shots from the car before, I made the most of it.