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Bird spotting By Rex Fisher Links to more of Rex's articles
I have been asked to provide some commentaries on local birding experiences and thought I would start with some very introductory, even spiritual, stuff about communing with our avian earthmates. Hi my name is Rex and I am a “twitcher”. Yes I am at the addictive end of the Birding scale (see the word Birding even deserves a capital letter). I make lists and travel around the countryside seeking birds that I haven’t seen before - classic behaviour for a “twitcher”. However I recently experienced an alternative meaning for that term. Travelling down a very rough and dusty outback track with my wife Jan I insisted on leaving the windows down in the hope of hearing a particular elusive species in that area. Some distance (200kms) later we noticed that the car was full of dust and my pleadings about how important it was to have been able to hear any calls; and my concerns about my binoculars needing cleaning, were met with a cold stare, clenched teeth and an involuntary “twitching” of my loving partner’s lips. I didn’t actually hear or see the bird I was after either. I really am a very lucky man as my wife does indulge my passionate, extra-marital affair with these glorious, feathered creatures. How she remains calm when I race off into rapturous ravings on raptors I still don’t understand, but deeply appreciate. But I don’t want you to descend into such depravity so I recommend that you start with the relaxation benefits of Birding. The key to that is to tune out one's day to day hassles and switch on to the wonderful things going on around us. Of course there is also the dose of endorphin producing exercise when birding is combined with bushwalking (I see a new exercise craze “Ornithological Endorphins”). However the real secret to achieving this meditative state is to understand that this is Birding, not bird watching, as it is our ears which play the key role. I recently spent a couple of hours with Dave Stewart who, as many will know, produces sound recordings of birds, frogs etc. It is quite extraordinary to hear him picking out various calls whilst visually focussing on another species through his telescope. When tuned in to natural sounds you can actually get into a relaxed groove that harmonises with your surroundings. I try to start each day doing exactly that in my back yard (where I have seen or heard over 90 species – there are those lists again). Sounds can also indicate something happening around you. For example the sound of falling fruit could indicate birds in the upper canopy, an alarm call could indicate a goanna getting too close to a nest and scratching in the leaf litter could mean all sorts of things. With my passion for raptors (ie hawks, eagles, goshawks, owls etc) a particular call made by Noisy Miners gets my attention as it usually means that one of those hunters is nearby. It is amazing how far away the potentially threatening bird can be when the Miners start, often I can barely see it. There is also the almighty eruption of alarm as a fast flying sparrowhawk, hobby etc comes out from cover near a flock of Noisy Miners. They may also tell you if an owl is roosting nearby or, as my dog well knows, a White-faced Heron is getting too close to your frog ponds. A rapidly passing shadow may also indicate a raptor above you.. Birders also make “pish” or squeaky sounds (in my case a faint whistle) which encourages some species to come out from cover to check you out. Researchers also use recorded calls to attract some species, eg Owls, which may otherwise be difficult to detect. However these techniques can, by their very nature, stress the birds and ethically they should be used with caution. For the same reasons it is not wise to spend too much time around active nests. Well that’s the theory but what about the practice. Well in the last week I have become reacquainted with some of our seasonal visitors purely through their calls. There were the breeep, breeeep, breeep calls of Spectacled Monarchs in the denser scrub in Billinudgel Nature Reserve; this morning’s early wake up squawk of a Channel-billed Cuckoo (my first for the season); the cack, cack, cack of the Dollar Bird; and the Shining Bronze-Cuckoo which sounds like someone whistling their dog - wheeep, wheeep, wheeep. A few other current ones are the wide range of metal against metal sounds of Spangled Drongos; the trilling of Fantailed Cuckoos; and the beautiful warble through the scales by the White-throated Gerygone - but I haven’t heard a Koel yet. The incessant wok, wok, wok, wok of Wonga Pigeons is also around and they could stretch the friendship if they were too close to ones house. These are some of spring/summer’s fresh new gifts, coming as winter/spring’s whale watching starts to phase out. Actually I had a wonderful dose of this seasonal medicine at the Cape a couple of weeks ago. Whilst whales were surfacing offshore there was a constant stream of migratory Shearwaters, or Muttonbirds, flying just above them. I was there for about an hour and I was told they had been going for at least an hour before that, all heading south. There were literally millions of them. Great stuff and I haven’t even mentioned the unbelievable feat of our migratory waders returning from far away shores. So I encourage you to relax, tune in those ears and get up close and personal with the messages from our feathered friends. Don’t worry about whether you can identify them simply let them into your heart, but be very careful as there is a high probability of addiction. |