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Lord Howe Island has always held a
certain allure for me, despite its rather prosaic name- "Lord Howe" hardly
conveys much of a sense of grandeur. Two early memories of the island were
of: a comedy routine on "The Big Gig" where Jonathon Biggins (I think)
impersonated a Lord Howe Island stand up comic; and of a group of twitchers
going over in the early Eighties, just after the island had been declared
a World Heritage Area, and having to dash back early to try and twitch the
White Wagtail that had turned up at Lakes Entrance in Victoria. From memory
I don't think they were successful.
I had planned to go to Lord Howe around
Easter, to coincide with both the Summer and Winter breeders being there, but
was diverted by the Laughing Gull in Brisbane and so had to wait until
the Spring for that happy coincidence of most of the breeding seabirds being
present.
I had a day to kill after the Newcastle Pelagic
before I flew out, so naturally I set about picking up some of those pesky
stop-outs of species that had eluded me thus far. Richard Baxter gave me
directions to a hillside where they had seen Spotted Quail-thrush very easily
only days before. Typically, I couldn't get onto it. I did see, however, some
pretty tricky birds to get onto such as Rock Warbler and Chestnut-rumped
Heathwren. But no Quail-thrush. This site was just out of Cessnock so has most
probably gone up in flames since then. It is going to be an ugly, ugly Summer.
The other bird I was after was, believe it or not,
Common Koel. Although hearing it several times last Summer all along the East
Coast, an actual sighting had proved unforthcoming. Phil Hansbro gave me
directions to an orchard where he had seen four the previous week, but this time
I had even less luck as I couldn't even find the orchard let alone the
birds.
The last time I had been on the Central Coast had
been for my Grandmother's funeral. I made a detour to visit her and my
Grandfather's grave. Before you get too impressed by my familial piety, I hasten
to add the main motivation for my pilgrimage was far more base. I
remembered that at the funeral there seemed to be masses of Koels calling
all about the place, and perhaps, I mused, they might be there again.
No such luck. I reckon if you ever wanted proof
that there is no afterlife, this is it. Because if there had been, surely the
spirits of my grandparents would have had a word in God's ear to send just one
Koel along. But nope, there none. Although that could be proof that there is
eternal life as my Grandparents could just have easily arranged for none to show
up, just to get me back for not visiting sooner.
And so with the list still stuck on 614 I headed
out to Lord Howe Island. I've looked at the pictures thousands of times before,
but to actually see those imposing twin peaks of Mounts Lidgbird and Gower
towering above the brilliant aquamarine marine waters of the lagoon was
still a breathtaking joy.
Lord Howe truly is a magnificent place. It
is beautiful, peaceful and superb for wildlife. But the tragedy is, so
recently it was even better. By the end of the Nineteenth Century, hunting
pressures from visiting whalers and the first settlers had seen birds such as
the Lord Howe White Gallinule, Parakeet and Pigeon go from the forest to the pot
to extinction. But the forests were still alive with smaller birds. Then in 1918
rats from a ship that ran aground came ashore and within five years a
further six unique forms of birdlife were gone forever. The rats remain to this
day, and though there is extensive baiting, they still take a toll on remaining
seabird eggs and chicks.
There's still heaps to see, however. The whole
place is full of the local Silvereye which does seem somewhat different from the
mainland birds- longer bill, more yellow on the throat and undertail (rather
like the West Australian or Barrier Reef races I thought) and may turn out to be
another species, not merely a race.
The local Golden Whistlers are everywhere, with the
Emerald Dove and Pied Currawong not as ubiquitous but still common, though
all are outnumbered by the Blackbirds which are said to be self-introduced from
New Zealand, though there is a rumour that crate loads of this species and Song
Thrush were brought onto the island from NZ during the war. I'm not sure of the
object of the exercise- were they front line defence against palm weevils
or the Japanese Imperial Army? To be honest I didn't mind so much these two
interlopers being on the island, as with he native Blackbird being wiped out by
the rats two decades before, perhaps they are filling a vacated niche in
the island's ecology.
Still I would have preferred the natives. There is
a wonderfully poignant line quoted in Ian Hutton's book on Lord Howe, written by
a local naturalist only two years after the rat's escape- "... the quiet of
death reigns where all was melody".
That phrase haunted me everytime I stepped into the
forest.
To be continued...
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