The Christmas Turkey

If there is a nuclear apocalypse, the cockroaches might very well inherit the earth. But they won't be on their own. They'll be sharing the cinders with brush turkeys*.

I've come to this conclusion after minutes many months of careful observation from my living room in the rainforest. Turkeys have excellent vision and hearing. Anything that sounds like a packet of biscuits being opened will draw them from miles around. They are inquisitive, treating the unfamiliar as though it were edible, which it often is to a turkey. And they will eat anything, including the cooling corpse of a tooth-billed bowerbird that flew into a window and a live skink that was trying to hide under my car.

They doze on their backs ... (note the feet and the scalloped belly feathers)

... and look embarrassed when you catch them

They are resourceful, mugging pademelons for whatever fruit tidbit they are holding. (Spotted catbirds do the same thing — steal food from a paddie's paws — but they usually fly away immediately with their prize. Turkeys will often give the poor macropods a peck as well.)

They turn up whenever the camera appears ...

... and walk right into shot no matter how tightly you frame the image

And they are persistent. A turkey will knock the lid off a dustbin more times than you can be bothered to put it back on. And as for picnic tables …

Listen and understand. That turkeynator is out there. It can't be bargained with. It can't be reasoned with. It doesn't feel pity or remorse or fear. And it absolutely will not stop, ever, until everything is eaten.

Well, you know what they say: the beak will inherit the earth.

_____

*I am certain that somewhere there's a draft of Cormac McCarthy's 'The Road' with the words A truly chilling vision of the end of civilization. But. Needs moar turkeys scribbled in the margin.

In North Queensland, wildlife watches you

I was about to head out to do the last of the Christmas grocery shopping* when I saw this Boyd's forest dragon on the patio. These lizards are normally arboreal, but this rather scrawny individual had taken a liking to the flattened packing box that I use as a door mat**.



Boyd's forest dragon is a Wet Tropics endemic. It's not a rare species, but can be difficult to spot. The dragons are most often observed on tree trunks, usually between one and two metres off the ground. Apart from having fabulous licheny camouflage, they also tend to sidle around to the other side of the tree trunk to avoid being seen.



This is only the second one that I have encountered. The other was many years ago at Lake Eacham, when a BFD mistook me for a tree and ran up my leg. (That was only slightly more bizarre than the time I was pecked on the thumb by an Australasian grebe. Good times.)



The dragon put up with the camera for a while, relying on its camouflage, which would have been somewhat more effective against tree bark. Then it scuttled off into the forest, where I failed to get a photo of it in its natural surroundings. They really are hard to spot.

____

* mangoes and pawpaws

** It's terribly House & Garden

Riflebirds get new uniforms

The young riflebirds have moulted into the adult plumage. For the females, their new outfits are not much different. But the males are getting their glorious black and iridescent blue feathers.

The first hints of a male's new plumage

Change almost complete

Practicing their flamenco dancing

In my garden, I've only seen them display to one another, but elsewhere they may get a little over-enthusiastic. Frith and Cooper report:

We occasionally observed a female-plumaged, presumed male, Victoria's Riflebird perform the Circular wings display to a passing bird of another species including a Wompoo Pigeon Ptilinopus magnificus, Pale Yellow Robin Tregellasia capito and Macleay's Honeyeater Xanthotis macleayana. Such a riflebird, perched on a bird feeder in WTC's garden, once directed this display to a Musky Rat-kangaroo Hypsiprymnodon moschatus beneath it and once to a moth as it flew slowly past, the bird turning to continue presenting its display to the passing insect.

Reference
Frith, CB & Cooper, WT. (1998). Courtship display and mating of Victoria's Riflebird Ptiloris victoriae with notes on the courtship displays of congeneric species. Emu 96: 102 - 113.

That skinking feeling

I can't help feeling that rare wildlife ought to behave in a way that befits its conservation status. It should skulk a bit. Perhaps look furtive. It certainly shouldn't be running around inside the house.


This rare skink, Eulamprus tigrinus, was running around on the inside of the screen door a few nights ago. It's a Wet Tropics endemic and is listed as rare under the Queensland Government's Nature Conservation Act. I think I've found out why it's thought to be rare. People have been looking for it in the rainforest, but its natural habitat seems to be houses. Other records in the street come from spare rooms and kitchens, but not the scrub.

Tropical diary: First week of December

What's been happening in my neck of the woods this week ...



It's hot. Hot and dry. Yes, I know this is the tropics and we're six days into summer, but it's not usually this hot — or dry — in our part of the world. Oh, it did rain the other day, heavily enough to remind me that not all the gutters are protected by leaf guards. But apart from that brief downpour, it's been dry. And hot.

A bulldog cross wandered into my garden on Tuesday. Nice animal, well looked after, friendly. I called the number on its collar but got no answer, so I asked Council to send around the Animal Control Officer. While I was waiting, the dog stretched out on the patio and took a nap. Then I noticed a young pademelon wandering closer to check out what was happening. This had the potential to end very unhappily.

I slipped my hand under the pooch's collar and made shooing gestures at the pademelon. That just encouraged it. The more I flapped my hand at the paddie, the closer it came. When it reached the edge of the patio, I had to drag the dog into the house and close the door. There it stayed, lying on the cool tiles until the Council ute arrived. The pooch seemed overjoyed to see it. I'm not sure whether the dog mistook it for the family car or just loves going to the pound. (Or, possibly, doesn't like my place.) Anyway, it is now back with its owners and the wildlife remains unsavaged.

On Thursday, a journalist from the Cairns Post came up to talk to a group of residents about a housing subdivision proposed for a rural block close by. The development — of approximately 170 new lots on what is currently zoned rural use only — is likely to have a significant impact on wildlife in the adjacent rainforest, as well as having a substantial effect on the Johnstone River, from which water will be harvested to supply the new residents. Because of this, the proposed subdivision is considered a controlled action under the Commonwealth's Environment Protection and Biodiversity Act. The Feds have asked for more information from the developer before making a decision. We're keeping an eye out for new … er … developments.

And we had a party last night.

More carnivals than you can poke a stick at

WARNING: Blog carnivals may be addictive.

I and the Bird #114 at The Life of a Bird Tour Leader.

Circus of the Spineless #45 at Greg Laden's Blog.

Berry Go Round #22 at Seeds Aside.

Festival of the Trees # 42 at Via Negativa

Rain

I'm sure the ant swarms won't be far behind.

Chick pic

This young spotted catbird (Ailuroedus melanotis) is perfectly capable of feeding itself, but like most young birds, prefers to nag its parents into providing dinner. Catbird chicks have a begging call that sounds like air leaking from a tyre or — more disturbingly — the hiss of a pissed off puff adder. It is very effective.



Spotted catbirds start nesting in September, constructing their deep, cup-shaped nests in saplings or vines 3 – 4m off the ground. They lay one or two eggs (occasionally three) and their young are usually fledged by December. The female is responsible for nest-building and incubation. While she's stuck at home, the male forages and brings back food.

Once the nestlings hatch, feeding is shared by both parents. They collect fruit (mostly quandongs and figs); cicadas, beetles and other large insects; and nestlings and small birds. They are particularly fond of the severed heads of fruit dove chicks, which they carry back to the nest. ('There must be some mistake. I ordered John the Baptist.') They will also decapitate small birds trapped in mist nets. Probably fortunately for all concerned, they take the nosh back in their beaks rather than swallowing and regurgitating it. They are capable of loading up with an awful lot. Stacks. Maybe a whole row of heads. I haven't seen them do this yet, but I'm sure it's only a matter of time.

Perpetually hungry spotted catbird chick

Adult catbird

Reference
Frith, CB & Frith, DW. (2001). Nesting biology of the spotted catbird, Ailuroedus melanotis, a monogamous bowerbird (Ptilonorhynchidae), in Australian Wet Tropics upland rainforests. Australian Journal of Zoology 49: 279 – 310.

Here be giants

It pays to keep unscreened windows closed at night around here. Apart from possums and snakes, both of which can create havoc in their own special ways, there are also insects. Quite large insects. Insects with jaws like a can opener.



Longicorn beetles are common in the rainforest. There's no shortage of timber for the larvae to chew through. Living wood, rotting wood, whatever they want, it's all here. On warm, humid nights, the beetles congregate around the outside lights, bumping into each other when they land in a coleopteran version on the Keystone Cops.

Most of the longicorns are small and inoffensive. But there are also hulking great big ones that are happy to remind you that they can chew through wood. Just ask my neighbour who inadvertently put his finger in front of one.

These giant longicorns (Paroplites?) don't turn up every night, but they make an impact when they do. They are about 6 cm long and look like small birds. (If you can imagine a glossy black, hard-winged, loudly-buzzing bird.) You'll hear them before you see them. And that's the time to get up and shut the windows or you'll be chasing them around with a net, to which they will cling with extraordinary devotion, and then you'll have to pry them off while trying to keep your fingers away from the business end. I speak with experience.

Cute

Crinkle Cut's joey is getting bigger and braver, although is still confined to mum's pouch. There is no shortage of red-legged pademelons in this patch of rainforest, but it's still a delight to meet the next generation.

Ant-icipation

Grey-headed robins (Heteromyias albispecularis) are the number one visitors to the bird bath. They are enthusiastic bathers and, once in place, are difficult to shift, as a Macleay's honeyeater discovered.





The robins often exhibit active 'anting' behaviour, in which they pick up one or more ants in their beaks and rub the insects over their feathers. Many species of birds also do this. It was thought that formic acid squirted by the distressed ants cleaned up feather-munching lice and mites and got rid of bacteria and fungi. But, it turns out, the volume and concentration of formic acid isn't sufficient to do the job. Instead, it is likely that birds like the grey-headed robin are actually disarming the ants prior to feeding on them. A beakful of formic acid is just too pungent but half a beakful is piquant.