visitors

Here be dragons…

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My new place has families of Eastern Water Dragons (Intellagama lesueurii lesueurii).

They mainly sunbake, even in the middle of the road, or perch on raised plantings in the garden.

Liking water, they do swim; I have seen one here jump into a bucket half-full of water– incidentally scaring the daylights out of me!

Often mistaken for a Frill-necked Lizard, they are beautifully patterned, with the most elegant long toes and fingers. Their heads are always up, questing, curious?

Last week a visiting friend, Jane, seemed to have special appeal as the largest Dragon, the male I assume, came up onto the verandah where we were sitting. He was almost under our chairs, pointing his spade-shaped head this way and that. 

They are mainly insectivorous, but like all sorts of delicacies as they mature, so maybe he thought we had cake — we didn’t, just coffee.

While unafraid, these Dragons are wary, so I wasn’t game to get up to fetch my camera. But Jane had her phone camera, so took these great pictures.

I am very grateful to have them as my resident wildlife.

Desk life

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It’s difficult not to be distracted by the wildlife here, even if I don’t leave my desk. At this second floor height what’s going on amongst the trees is ‘in your face’, so to speak.

Like this goanna, who decided to climb up and laze on this branch for about a half hour; not after any nest of baby peewees, just hanging there. When done, it turned around – always a heart-stopping manouevre to watch — and slowly gripped its way down, its tail almost overtaking it.

Odd noises often alert me to activity closer to the ground, as in the various birdbaths. This time it was a repetitive soft bird call, and when I checked, there were two birds I had not seen here.  Eastern Whipbirds, I learn, and I had certainly heard the males’ whip crack before.

The female’s call is described as ‘choo-choo’, with which I probably wouldn’t agree, but if they visit again I will listen more closely and come up with a more fitting one. Another book says ‘chuckles and whistles’ — quite an art, summing up bird talk…

A louder racket made me stand and look down into my small back yard where an Eastern Grey Kangaroo had pushed its way in beside the pigwire fence and was trying to return — but clearly couldn’t find or use the same route.

I was worried about him panicking as he pushed fruitlessly at the fence, but he was no fool. Having realised that no part of his body beyond his head would go through the wire squares, he quickly checked out the rest of the yard, then took a running jump and went over the fence.

Life is never dull here, even through my windows.

Tawny twosome

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I have often said that the Tawny Frogmouth is my favourite bird, and my recent post shared my delight that one had been visiting.

But only one.

Yet this week I have had close contact for a whole day with a pair, the aforesaid male, and his partner.

On my way downstairs, I did see the large liquid scat on the deck; noted it was in an unusual place, but didn’t think to look up.

Coming back upstairs, I got a shock to see them sitting on the while railing only half a metre from me… and hardly suitably camouflaged.

The male was his usual inscrutable self, watching me with a slit of an eye open. The males are 20-30% bigger than the female.

While he is dressed in tones of grey, his partner is wonderfully patterned in shades of brown, perfect for the paperbarks near here.

At first they were facing in opposite directions in their stiff ‘I am a broken branch’ angled poses.

At one point he opened his big golden eyes wide, as if to say, ‘Don’t think I’m not watching you!’

As the day wore on and I’d had to pass by them many times, the female turned to face the same way. I felt bad for disturbing them, while assuring them they were safe there.

They were both keeping a narrow eye on me; she moved much closer to him.

These birds mate for life, which can mean 15-20 years, and share all the domestic tasks: nest building, egg incubating, chick rearing etc.

They were gone next morning but since then I have several times seen the female occupying the spot between deck and roof where the male had often spent the day before. It was as if he’d brought her here to show her that good dry spot, and also that I was to be trusted.

I can only hope they make their nest somewhere in sight.

Secret show-off

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Delighted by this glamorous display, I first thought it was a new bird. Then I recognised the face: it was the Buff Banded Rail  (Galliralus phillippenis) that I often see scurrying across the patch of grass below my window.

As it lowered its backlit wings a little, I could see I was right, but why was it holding those usually hidden wings out like that? I have since found it’s sunbathing, but at the time I wondered if it might fly.

I have never seen it do anything but scurry, flicking its tail up and down.

Apparently Rails can fly, if weakly.

When it turned sideways, I was dazzled by those strikingly patterned wings, now glimpsed from above. I thought of pheasants.

My bird books all comment on it as being secretive, sneaky, or skulking. I am now adding ‘secret show-off’ to those epithets. As it returned to its less dramatic daily dress and demeanour, this Rail certainly looked like it was checking that nobody saw its display; it could not know I was watching from on high…

Temporary Tawny

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My favourite bird is the Tawny Frogmouth, that master of camouflage. But I don’t think  that the space between a roof and a deck is quite what his plumage was meant to blend into.

This one looked fat and healthy, smug even, as they can. It (he?) ignored me in the tradition of  ‘I’m just a bit of broken tree branch.’ 

I would say hello every day but never received an acknowledgement… let alone a reply.

I hadn’t heard one, but knew one was about, as every morning there were fresh droppings in my carport.

A year ago, I had surprised one there, sitting on the awning holder of my campervan, so I had been assuming it to be the cause of the droppings.

So I was delighted to see it take up visible residence for one week, and hoped that it was the same Tawny, grown bigger. And I was very sorry when it moved on.

Brief wildlife

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Now that I do not live in the bush, I celebrate what wildlife deigns to visit me.

Returning from a few weeks’ absence I found this spider’s intricate creation on the inside of my screened room.  Like a delicate webby waterfall, it had been spun to extend from the top of the netting to froth over my sill’s shell collection. I am unsure what insects it was meant to catch, given it is inside, but perhaps it was created also for fun, because the spider had free rein… ‘while the cat’s away…’

From my desk I see many birds in the trees opposite, but I have never seen this colourful bird there.

Silently and swiftly, a Sacred Kingfisher flashed into my view, stayed for only a few minutes… and left.

For a bird with such a widespread distribution, I am surprised how few times I have seen one.

Here, once before only, on a post by the river.

‘Thanks for coming by’, I think, grateful it stayed long enough for me to grab a photo, glad I keep the camera handy…

This being Easter, the Park is busily full of caravans and tents, people and vehicles, kids and dogs.

 It is more than enough to give a young wallaby, on emerging suddenly from the bushes, cause to stop and consider whether it is a good idea to continue.

This one propped, considered the unusual throng for only a few seconds, then turned and bolted back into the quiet safety of the bushland behind it.

I see very few wallabies here and have never yet seen a young one on its own, so I hope it found its mother waiting for it… and got the scolding it warranted.

Surprise visits

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I knew there were Tawny Frogmouths in the bush beside me, but hardly expected one to come calling on me.

Yet one night, as I descended the stairs and the sensor light in my carport came on, there it was. On my van’s awning canister.

My favourite bird then gave me the benefit of its profile of bristly ‘whiskers’.

The other visitors came on a wet day, levering themselves along, looking about but only between grazing. Not too wary.

I miss my macropods of the Mountain, so seeing these two Eastern Grey Kangaroos was a treat.

One came very close to my deck and as we locked eyes I thanked him for visiting my patch, reminding me of the real world where animals are represented by more than dogs!

Wary Wongas

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One of my favourite native pigeons is the Wonga Pigeon, but it so shy … ‘exceptionally alert’, my bird book says… that it is rarely still long enough to take a photo of it. I do hear its repetitive soft ’coo-coo’, and there is plenty of tree and shrub cover here for this rainforest bird, so its frequent presence is not surprising.

Its beautiful markings are mainly on its front, and as I usually see it on the ground here, I only get the grey back and the white part of its head, with just glimpses of the striping.  They never seem to turn to face me, so seeing this one up higher was a treat. Look at those pink legs and feet, often hidden in the grass when they are on the ground!

I have mostly seen two foraging on the ground here, moving their plump bodies swiftly across the patch, bobbing heads back and forth like chooks. However, I read they are solitary except in breeding season.

Last week I briefly saw three, so I am wondering if they have a young one, but they moved too fast for me to tell if one was more brownish than grey, as the immature are.

A few months ago one sat in the sunny grass for ages; I had wondered if she was silly enough to lay eggs there, as it gets mown, but perhaps she was just sunbathing.

Whatever a wary Wonga gets up to, I am a very happy observer.

Tree visitors

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My back deck is high amongst the paperbarks, and close to them.  I had not expected to come so close to a tree climbing goanna, but for once it was not waddling across the grass below, where I see one almost daily.

So close, I could admire not only the intricacy of its patterns and colours, with that surprising blue tinge, but its face, its ear and eye. Even its claws had camouflage dots!

When I first spotted this one it seemed to be lolling on a branch, not gripping or climbing, but that soon changed.

It turned around rather awkwardly and began climbing down one branch…

… to head up another. Sometimes it went to the perilously thin ends of branches before turning. Searching for birds’ nests and eggs?

The birds were certainly alarmed, chattering and flying about.

As they were a little further away, in a tall eucalypt…

But that odd thick shape I could see there turned out to no threat. To my great delight it was one of my favourite birds, a Tawny Frogmouth.

And from the lingering fluffy feathers I think it may be still young… unless they are just my camera’s blur from using the zoom.

I am heartened to think there may be a family of them about and will keep an ear out for that distinctive repeated ‘oom’.

I didn’t hear those ‘ooms’, but later that very afternoon, nearing dusk, I saw that the ‘lump’ up there on that branch was bigger.

I could not get a very clear view but it was definitely an adult and two young Tawny Frogmouths. The young look much fluffier than my earlier sole bird, so was that the father, the apparent fluff just my camera, or the wind?

The father often cares for the fledglings, so perhaps my visitor was a father sussing out where to bring his young to rest, or just taking a break from childcare before the kids caught up with him.

All three were gone next day, but what a treat, however fleeting! My first Frogmouths in this new place… 

When I moved into my last place (that was flooded), within weeks a Frogmouth had two chicks hatch in a nest in a she-oak in my yard and I could watch them growing and being raised. Such a privilege!

Pattern master

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This large Goanna, or Lace Monitor, scoots past my yard most days.  That netting fence means nothing to it and the set route goes right through it. Usually I only catch a glimpse, so fast and determinedly does it move.

But this day I wanted to see it over the fence and moved higher and closer. The click of the camera caused it to stop and look at me… or the source of the noise.

I am always amazed at massivity of these creatures: look at those legs! Common in eastern Australia, it is one of our largest lizards; some of the males can exceed 2m in length. 

Carnivores, they are quite partial to carrion.

I have seen them foraging around campsites… and enjoying a meat pie.

This one decided it was safer off the ground;  one of their common names is Tree Goanna. Those claws give good grip, holding it here for me to admire the extraordinary patterning of stripes and spots… an Aboriginal art template.

They are actually shy, and while they have been known to run up a human, it is not from aggression, but because they have mistaken the vertical ‘thing’ for a safe tree.

One aspect of their lives that was new to me was how they breed: the female digs a hole in a termite mound and lays her 6-12 eggs there. The termites rebuild over the hole and keep the eggs steadily warm (30ºC). Then 8-9 months later, she returns to dig out the hatchlings. How clever is that at delegating?!

Kid stop?

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Hearing a lot of chattering outside my window, I saw two green parrots on a far branch opposite. Lorikeets, I assumed as there had been a lot of those about in weeks gone by. But these were too big, surely?

Leaning past my desk to look down, I could see the bird water dish along the fence. It had only before attracted a sole Peewee, or that I had noticed.

Now there was a mighty flurry and fluttering of seven of these same green parrots, jockeying for turns at sipping the water, swapping places on the fence, teetering and balancing on the wire.

There were nine of them all up. But what were they?

Then my memory of my Mountain Kingies started to rev up. These looked like female King Parrots, which are mostly green except for the red lower breast and belly… were they young ones, who have similar colours to the females? The young have brown irises instead of grey, but I was too far away to see such detail.

There I was used to having plenty of the more colourful males about, with much more red on head and front…and an occasional female.

Never had I seen a whole gang like this.

One of them might have been developing the male colours, as it had a paler green strip along its wing.

They took off very quickly. Had it been a brief pit stop for the whingeing kids? ‘Mum, I’m thirsty!’

Mental note: keep that bird water dish full! Who knows what else it may attract?

Not sacred nor scarce

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In these seemingly permanent wet times, the grounds here are either soggy or full-on watery. The most frequent bird visitor is thus a wader, the Australian White Ibis (Threskiornis molucca). Those long curved beaks are perfect for these shallow waterlogged areas.

Usually I see them only on the ground, while the kookaburras and lorikeets own the trees.

But the other day this one flew up to perch outside my windows and peep in.

Then, to its apparent surprise, it was joined by another one. Not for long; I was glad it took off again, as it seemed to have only one leg, not great for balancing.

They are sometimes called the Sacred Ibis — or were. Until the droughts of the late 1970s drove them eastwards they were rarely seen in our cities. They bred in the Macquarie Marshes, where now they are rare.

These days they are so common and in such numbers that they have become a pest, to the point of needing to be culled in some areas like Sydney’s Centennial Park. Tourists complained of their smell!

They are now more commonly called ‘Tip Turkey’ or ‘Bin Chicken’ as they have adapted to scavenging in rubbish bins… or swiping a sandwich from an unwary picnicker.

Because of that dining practice, their pure white is often tinged a rather grubby brown.

So not sacred and certainly not scarce!