Wednesday, 30 September 2009
Going batty at Hastie's Swamp
Birdwatchers aren't the only ones using the hide at Hastie's Swamp. Microbats pop in from time to time. This little cutie was tucked away in the corner when I visited the site this morning. The bat interrupted its snooze for a quick groom, then went back to sleep.
The stalking duck
Water levels are down at Hastie's Swamp. The hardheads have flown off to look for deeper water, but the plumed whistling ducks are staying put. A few of the magpie geese, which are common in the lily-padded waters at the far end of the swamp, have joined them. (A large number of magpie geese visit Gallo's Dairy Farm each day, where they mingle with the black and white Friesian cows, like trans-species Mini Mes.) Royal spoonbills, little black cormorants, pelicans and darters are also present in modest numbers.
And the Australasian grebes ... Yes, they're still around. But they're not trying anymore. One grebe couldn't even be bothered to dive when I raised the camera. It just stuck its in the water. Come on, grebes, make an effort.
Perhaps the grebes have something else on their minds? This one had attracted the attention of a whistling duck. The duck was following so closely that I thought I'd made a mistake on the identification and the grebe was really a duckling. Maybe the duck had made the same mistake? Or perhaps it had a ducky crush.
Monday, 28 September 2009
Wot? No snails?
Australian researchers have discovered a huge number of new species of invertebrate animals living in underground water, caves and "micro-caverns" amid the harsh conditions of the Australian outback.
A national team of 18 researchers has discovered 850 new species of invertebrates, which include various insects, small crustaceans, spiders, worms and many others.
Read more here.
The gambollers
About a week ago, something moved into the space between the eaves and the patio roof. At about 4 pm each day, the something starts scampering up and down in the gap. Then, an hour or so after dusk, it emerges, gambols along the roof, jumps onto an overhanging branch and spends the night in the forest. It returns at 4 am.
It could have been anything. Not an echidna or a pademelon, obviously. And probably not a bandicoot. But apart from those — and brush turkeys — it could have been any of the tree-climbing animals that inhabit the garden. There's a lot to choose from here. I just hoped it wasn't a black rat.
It took a few days but I finally managed to identify the new resident. Well, the two new residents — the female coppery brushtail and her joey, which is now out of the pouch. I imagine the afternoon activity is the young 'un having fun, while mum is trying to catch up on her sleep. At least they are as quiet as possible when they come home in the wee hours. They jump off the tree, run straight across the roof and tuck themselves into the cozy space beneath the eaves. No singing or swearing and, as far as I know, no wearing traffic cones stolen from the road works on the road to Atherton. They're not bad neighbours, really.
A shot in the dark.
Photo taken last night by pointing the camera towards rustling in the trees.
Here are some I prepared earlier ...
It's a tight fit in mum's pouch
But things can go horribly wrong when you've grown just a bit too big
There are other options
It could have been anything. Not an echidna or a pademelon, obviously. And probably not a bandicoot. But apart from those — and brush turkeys — it could have been any of the tree-climbing animals that inhabit the garden. There's a lot to choose from here. I just hoped it wasn't a black rat.
It took a few days but I finally managed to identify the new resident. Well, the two new residents — the female coppery brushtail and her joey, which is now out of the pouch. I imagine the afternoon activity is the young 'un having fun, while mum is trying to catch up on her sleep. At least they are as quiet as possible when they come home in the wee hours. They jump off the tree, run straight across the roof and tuck themselves into the cozy space beneath the eaves. No singing or swearing and, as far as I know, no wearing traffic cones stolen from the road works on the road to Atherton. They're not bad neighbours, really.
A shot in the dark.Photo taken last night by pointing the camera towards rustling in the trees.
Here are some I prepared earlier ...
It's a tight fit in mum's pouch
But things can go horribly wrong when you've grown just a bit too big
There are other optionsFriday, 11 September 2009
Splashing around
The bird bath is very popular in the warm, dry weather. The locals think it's great. I think it's pretty good too because it's the only place where some of the more active species stick in one spot for more than a second. If only they'd play statues as well.
Bridled Honeyeater, endemic to NE Queensland. They visit the garden in small flocks towards the end of the day and chase each other through the trees.
Bower's Shrike-thrush, an upland endemic. Usually solitary or in pairs. It sticks to the ground or low vegetation, where it searches for it insects. And there are plenty to find.
Scrubwrens in a rare moment of calm.
Bridled Honeyeater, endemic to NE Queensland. They visit the garden in small flocks towards the end of the day and chase each other through the trees.
Bower's Shrike-thrush, an upland endemic. Usually solitary or in pairs. It sticks to the ground or low vegetation, where it searches for it insects. And there are plenty to find.
Scrubwrens in a rare moment of calm.
Thursday, 10 September 2009
Ornithological Idol
When the garden is full of accomplished singers, it's difficult to choose one that stands out. Grey fantails and bridled honeyeaters produce complicated melodies. Scrubwrens twitter* musically. Even the spotted catbirds have a charm of their own, with their yowls and miaows that sound as though they've been fed through a dalek's voice synthesizer. It's hard to pick one.
But there's a new bird in the garden and he's made the contest more interesting.
A tooth-billed catbird (Scenopoeetes dentirostris) has moved in. He's set up his display ground in forest a few metres from the house and several times a day, he perches on a liana and sings with great enthusiasm.
Although a bowerbird, the male tooth-billed catbird doesn't build an elaborate bower. But he does clear a stage, which he decorates with leaves. Not just any leaves, you understand. He tosses away those that offend his bowerbirdy sensibilities and replaces them with beautiful ones, selected and snipped off the right plants. This catbird is fond of gingers, which are abundant at the forest edge. He clips the leaves with his beak and carries them back to the display, where he arranges them in a precise pattern, always with the paler undersides turned up.
I didn't want to disturb him too much as he went about decorating the stage, so I only took one photo of the site. But just after that, a female turned up to inspect his work. She didn't seem that impressed, but I'm sure she will change her mind as he adds to his leaf collection.
Picking the perfect leaf
A work in progress: the ginger-leaf stage
But there's a new bird in the garden and he's made the contest more interesting.
A tooth-billed catbird (Scenopoeetes dentirostris) has moved in. He's set up his display ground in forest a few metres from the house and several times a day, he perches on a liana and sings with great enthusiasm.
Although a bowerbird, the male tooth-billed catbird doesn't build an elaborate bower. But he does clear a stage, which he decorates with leaves. Not just any leaves, you understand. He tosses away those that offend his bowerbirdy sensibilities and replaces them with beautiful ones, selected and snipped off the right plants. This catbird is fond of gingers, which are abundant at the forest edge. He clips the leaves with his beak and carries them back to the display, where he arranges them in a precise pattern, always with the paler undersides turned up.
I didn't want to disturb him too much as he went about decorating the stage, so I only took one photo of the site. But just after that, a female turned up to inspect his work. She didn't seem that impressed, but I'm sure she will change her mind as he adds to his leaf collection.
Picking the perfect leaf
A work in progress: the ginger-leaf stage____
* By pecking at the keyboard
* By pecking at the keyboard
Monday, 7 September 2009
Celebrity snail collecting
From today's Telegraph:
The essays are about the joys of life. Gyles Brandreth takes pleasure in outliving his colleagues. Tim Rice likes mowing the lawn. Bill Nighy delights in just about everything. But who collects snails? Don't make me buy the book to find out.
Beekeeping, snail collecting, tormenting telemarketers and claiming the last roast potato all feature in Modern Delight, a collection of essays from the great and the good.
The essays are about the joys of life. Gyles Brandreth takes pleasure in outliving his colleagues. Tim Rice likes mowing the lawn. Bill Nighy delights in just about everything. But who collects snails? Don't make me buy the book to find out.
Saturday, 5 September 2009
The day shift
Possums by night and pademelons by day. Tatty-eared Steptoe likes to see what's going on in the living room. I'm thinking of turning the television around so he can watch something more entertaining.
Seven red-legged pademelons visit my garden on a daily basis, but he's the only one who takes an interest.
More fruits of the forest
Years ago, I lived in East London, not far from East India Dock Road. The road ran north of the Isle of Dogs from Limehouse to Blackwall. Although the docks were built in the early 1800s, the East India Company, which owned it, was established much earlier. From 1600, the EIC traded throughout Asia from India and Burma to China and Indonesia.
The EIC competed vigorously with the Vereenigde Oostindische Compagnie (Dutch East India Company) for access to goods in the Indonesian archipelago. Nutmeg was the most prized item. Both sides believed it was worth its weight in other people's blood.
Nutmeg (Myristica fragrans) grew only on the Banda Islands in the Moluccas. Whoever controlled the islands, controlled the spice trade. The VOC maintained their monopoly for the best part of two centuries until the British regained access to the trade in 1810. Just to be on the safe side, the EIC established plantations in the West Indies and Zanzibar. So the nutmeg monopoly ended.
Why am I mentioning this? I've been collecting fallen fruit and identifying them from Wendy Cooper's magnificent book 'Fruits of the Australian Tropical Rainforest'. I use the standard method of comparing them to the illustrations, which are superb.
But one fruit was giving me problems. It was dull, furry and dun-coloured and I couldn't work out which of the many dull, furry and dun-coloured fruit it was. So I did what I normally do under these circumstances and ignored it.
A few days later, the case split to reveal the seed. And, I am delighted to say, I recognised it without having to leaf through the book — it's a native nutmeg (Myristica globosa). (This one isn't quite ripe. The aril on mature seeds is usually orange or red.)
If only this species were edible, I'd replace the Land for Wildlife sign with one saying 'Snail's East India Company' and become rich beyond the dreams of avarice. Bwahahahaha!
Oh, dear. Did I just type that?
While we're on the topic of fruits …
Ripe quandongs (Elaeocarpus grandis) — I don't expect they'll be still there in the morning
Poison walnut (Cryptocarya pleurosperma): 0. White-tailed rat: 1
The EIC competed vigorously with the Vereenigde Oostindische Compagnie (Dutch East India Company) for access to goods in the Indonesian archipelago. Nutmeg was the most prized item. Both sides believed it was worth its weight in other people's blood.
Nutmeg (Myristica fragrans) grew only on the Banda Islands in the Moluccas. Whoever controlled the islands, controlled the spice trade. The VOC maintained their monopoly for the best part of two centuries until the British regained access to the trade in 1810. Just to be on the safe side, the EIC established plantations in the West Indies and Zanzibar. So the nutmeg monopoly ended.
Why am I mentioning this? I've been collecting fallen fruit and identifying them from Wendy Cooper's magnificent book 'Fruits of the Australian Tropical Rainforest'. I use the standard method of comparing them to the illustrations, which are superb.
But one fruit was giving me problems. It was dull, furry and dun-coloured and I couldn't work out which of the many dull, furry and dun-coloured fruit it was. So I did what I normally do under these circumstances and ignored it.
A few days later, the case split to reveal the seed. And, I am delighted to say, I recognised it without having to leaf through the book — it's a native nutmeg (Myristica globosa). (This one isn't quite ripe. The aril on mature seeds is usually orange or red.)
If only this species were edible, I'd replace the Land for Wildlife sign with one saying 'Snail's East India Company' and become rich beyond the dreams of avarice. Bwahahahaha!
Oh, dear. Did I just type that?
While we're on the topic of fruits …
Ripe quandongs (Elaeocarpus grandis) — I don't expect they'll be still there in the morning
Poison walnut (Cryptocarya pleurosperma): 0. White-tailed rat: 1
Wednesday, 2 September 2009
Spotted monitor spotted and monitored
While scanning the quandong for fruit-eating birds (so far only wompoo pigeons and figbirds but it's early days yet), I noticed this fellow. The spotted tree monitor (Varanus scalaris) isn't known for its love of fruit, but it does have a great fondness for eggs and nestlings. Doesn't mind a spot of sunbathing, either. Wonder what the view is like from there?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)