At 0630 today we decided to go for a drive in the cool to see
some birds. Arrived at the well-oiled carpark off Stockdill Drive and walked
along the little path towards the lookout. Action started before we reached the
end of the blacktop.
HIGHLIGHTS : In shrubs by the fence two Southern Whiteface
and, on the fence, five Double-barred Finches, couple of Speckled Warblers on
the ground. Further towards the lookout , two Yellow Thornbills in a
feathery foliaged Acacia sp., right in the type of habitat where
they’re supposed to be. Couple of Rainbow Bee-eaters hawking in the morning air
and a perched Nankeen Kestrel. Could hear Stubble Quail calling but unable to
sight them. Pair of Rainbow Lorikeets passed directly overhead, coming from the
north heading south.
We stood on the lookout, heard a ruckus from downstream and,
a good 400m away, large birds issued across the water from our side
of the river. Although it was a bit of a challenge with 8x binos we were
reasonably satisfied they were Yellow-tailed Black-Cockatoos. At first only
about ten appeared, and we thought they were creating quiet a din for so few,
but as Johnny Horton sang of the British in The Battle of New Orleans,
“They kept a-comin”. Within seconds there were about 30 angling across the river
just above the surface. Distance thwarted accurate estimate. But the show wasn’t
over. Seemingly on top of the tail-end-Charlies there came a raptor. Best I can
say of it is it appeared larger than a medium-sized raptor. As the
cockatoos began to follow the rising terrain after crossing the river, the
raptor appeared to crowd down upon a straggler. Anyhow it landed on the ground
but, again, the tyranny of distance had us licked insomuch as we couldn’t
confirm if it had taken a victim and couldn’t tell if it was mantling. We
lowered the binos to give our eyes a rest and, when we attempted to
relocate the protagonist, were unable to.
We stood and enjoyed the cool of early morning as a
Murrumbidgee zephyr soothed our frustrated brows, and the clear call of a
Boobook carried to us from somewhere downriver. We heard it call
twice.
“Do these owls call during daylight?” I wondered
aloud.
Suddenly the morning tranquillity was sundered by the
strident call of the Auburn-crowned Babbler, “ I know, Papa-san, I know, she
shrilled.
“You know what? I growled, a bit startled.
“It’s a Lyrebird mimicking a Boobook.”
“Nice try, Chica, but wrong habitat,” I said.
Could someone say if Boobooks call during daylight hours,
and, for the sake of detente, confirm that the dry woodlands of Shepherds
Lookout would be unlikely habitat for a Lyrebird?
John K. Layton.
