Dear Birding Aussers,
When I finished school I took a year off with the intention of
becoming the youngest person to see 600 species in Australia. Lack of funds, a
bout of illness and general slackness saw me fall woefully short of the magic
figure. That was in 1987. I saw my 500th bird sometime in 1988. In the thirteen
years since I had crawled my way through the five hundreds until last week I
added up my list (following Christidis and Boles) and discovered that it now
stood at 597.
The magic milestone was now close at hand. (Although
admittedly thanks to the efforts of uber-twitchers such as Carter, Lansley,
Palliser et al, 700 is the new benchmark, but for a mere mortal twitcher, 600
still has a magical aura to it) Now that I was so close, the big question
was, which species would be my six hundredth? Sure I could fly to Cape York or
the Alice to guarantee it, but after waiting thirteen years, I wanted get there
in style.
And then came Rohan Clarke's posting about the King Penguin in
Tasmania. "Here's a go!" I thought. Having only been to the Bass Strait Islands,
there were a couple of Tasmanian endemics I still needed and these combined with
the King Penguin would get me over the line. So, after getting more info
off Rohan and sacrificing funds for future trips (and by buying an airline
ticket at such short notice sacrificing funds for future meals) I headed off on
Friday night.
Arriving at Hobart just before dusk I didn't manage to see any lifers, but
the Musk Lorikeets just outside the airport were new for my Tassie list. I
stayed that night at the little town of Dover, about eighty kms south of Hobart.
Up the next morning at six, fuelled by a hearty Twitcher's breakfast of beans on
toast, I was off. Just out of town I came across several parties of Tasmanian
Native Hen- bird number 598. Two to go.
To get to the Penguin I had to travel to the end of the most southerly road
in Australia, (it terminates at Cockle Creek), sign the hiker's book, and head
off the eleven kilometres along the Great South West Walk to the beach where the
bird had been seen. A local had said it had got to forty degrees the day before,
so I was a bit worried our sub-Antarctic visitor might have expired. It was much
cooler this Saturday morning, my flimsy jumper was sodden within the first half
hour. Still, good weather for Penguins.
The path is relatively easy, though the first kilometre or so is quite
rocky in places. It passes through hillside stringybark forests which had some
confiding Yellow-tailed Black Cockatoos and more Crescent Honeyeaters than I
have ever encountered in the one spot. In one instance they were in a flock with
Strong-billed Honeyeaters, about twenty-five birds in all. I also got to
refamiliarise myself with Black Currawong, Brown Scrubwren and Tasmanian
Thornbill- the description of the latter's "white underpants" feature is one of
the most amusing and most apt I have come across in birding. There is then
a few kilometres of boardwalk through some swampy heathland which had good
numbers of Southern Emu Wren and I suspect would be good for Ground Parrot
too. Unfortunately I dipped on the Tawny-crowned Honeyeaters that Rohan had
seen but the magnificent habitat and vistas made up for any disappointment. And
the thought that this was just the very eastern edge of huge areas of similar
habitat was simply awesome.
The track arrives at the coast just near South East Cape, the most
Southerly point of continental Australia. Looking out to sea, watching the rain
squalls blow in (luckily for me ,only drizzle, not full on storms) it was a
humbling experience knowing that the next bit of land was Antarctica.
But enough philosophising. I had a lifer to twitch.
Onward across the first beach in South Cape Bay, west towards the South
Cape itself. On that first beach was a pair each of Hooded Plover, Sooty
Oystercatcher and a solitary Pied 'catcher. Rohan had said that at the end of
the beach you could simply walk along the shoreline of the rocky headland to the
next beach, however, the force with which the breakers were ending their
unimpeded journey from Antarctica convinced me to take the more arduous route
over the headland. Just as I was cursing this route decision I came across a
piping juvenile Pink Robin just near the summit. Unfortunately the parents
were nowhere to be seen, but just beyond it was a pair of Scrub Tits. Great
views of their grey cheek and white wing spots gave me my second lifer. Bird
599, only one to go!
Looking out over the vista of the next beach from the headland summit, I
could see through the bins the outline of a large black and white bird sitting
on the middle of the beach. I had to restrain myself from hurtling down the
remainder of the steep hill to get to it. And sure enough, ten minutes later,
there it was, a magnificent King Penguin. Number 600! I spent half an hour
watching it preening itself and snoozing, totally oblivious to my presence. The
only time it showed any sign of disturbance was when a freak wave washed up on
the shore and poured over its enormous, bulbous feet. The poor thing ran around
the beach waving its flippers in agitation for a minute or so until it finally
settled back to its slumber.
The moult was still at a fairly early stage, with the new feathers
showing through only on its sides where the wings rest and on its lower back.
Comparing it with the stage of moult that last year's Fiordland Penguin had, I
would expect that it would take at least a week for this bird to complete full
moult and return to the sea. I guess this means I am saying that I would expect
the bird to still be there by next weekend but I would like to add a disclaimer
that I know naught about penguin moults so if anyone is considering a twitch
next weekend, please don't rely on my uninformed opinion as the basis for
deciding whether to go for it or not.
But it was a bloody great bird to get for my 600th. As I trudged
reluctantly back the eleven kilometres to the car through the heavier rain, and
the even heavier blisters, I realised had finally done it, after all these
agonising years of major dips, I was finally in the Six Hundred Club, I was now
in the Five Penguin Club, and I was now in the "I'll blow two weeks wages to go
see a rarity club".
God help me.
