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Went for another early (cool and smoky) morning bird foray to Shepherds
Lookout. This time I went solo, sans Brat, which somehow accentuated the
quietness of the riverine woodland. During sixty-five minutes I recorded
twenty-four species.
Just a few highlights: a Sacred Kingfisher disappearing into a hollow limb,
Stubble Quail calling close by but I couldn't find them, six Rock Doves
feeding on the track (the local raptors will be pleased), four Southern
Whitefaces and (how 'bout this) a White-plumed Honeyeater poking food into the
maw of an obese fledging Pallid Cuckoo. It reminded me of Tinker Bell the Pixie
feeding the Michelin Man.
As I approached the carpark, there was the resident fox and, so help me, he
was standing on his hind legs, forepaws resting on the tailgate of my ute,
sniffing. Having no weapon to hand, I emitted a bellow and Foxie-loxie hared off
into the ether.
I wondered what attracted Foxie-loxie to my ute. Like, I run a
squeaky-clean truck. Only thing I can come up with is that on hot afternoons
Inkypink, our little black, bird-friendly tomcat camps in the back of the ute.
We often deliver the spoilt little bugger some afternoon tea - a bowl of water
and his favourite cat crackers. Without the water, he won't eat his crackers.
So, perhaps, F-loxie detected a whiff of I-pink and his fish-flavoured crackers.
On the way home, I saw three Little Corellas feeding near the entrance to the
Belconnen golf course.
John Layton
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