bobmcgee

A Little Chat …

More specifically a little chat about the calendar game. Readers in for the long haul know all about the calendar game. For those not familiar with it, it starts on January 1st and you are in the game so long as you have seen more birds in the year than days have elapsed. If you fall behind the calendar you are out. So on January 1st at Taylors Scrape, ~70km from Broome, at 5.31 am I pressed the button “Start New List” on eBird mobile and the game commenced. By the end of the day I was safe well into February.

There is, in birding, a concept called the Big Year. It’s like a super calendar game where you chase all over a region of your own choice, twitch every rarity, get on every birding boat trip, visit every habitat, spend a fortune on travel, stay awake through every very long drive, sleep rough, eat poorly and pay no heed to your impending divorce.

The calendar game is more genteel. One endeavours to see ordinary birds in ordinary places. Travel will still be necessary and novelty will still be welcome. But it’s just a game.

So to summarise. A Big Year is for lunatics. A Calendar Game year is for under achieving lunatics, those of us who are past peak obsession.

So how is it going? I began the year with a big trip across the top of Oz and then south through outback Queensland and NSW to Victoria. On the 16th of March I was in Melbourne with 274 avian species on the list. 75 days in, 199 species ahead. The return trip to Broome was up through the red centre. Our overdue library books were returned to the Broome Public Library on the 18th of April. 309 species were in the bag, 108 days elapsed. The librarian was thrilled to hear that the buffer was holding steady around the 200 mark.

But of course it gets harder. Broome is a great place for birding. Every Australian birder really must get here. I’d rank it number two after Cairns and the Atherton Tablelands. And it is a place where the odd vagrant turns up. But they don’t rain down. Five months of local birding have added only 20 extra species. 249 days into the year 329 species up. The buffer is shrinking, failure beckons. It must be time for another road trip.

We are well into the dry now. The ground has dried out enough to venture out into low lying parts of Roebuck Plains, to Kidney Bean and Duck Lake. This is home to the Yellow Chat. They are beautiful and not easy to find elsewhere. I added it to the list this morning.

I have so enjoyed this little chat.

Fusion Moonrise …

It was advertised Thus …

Experience one of Broome’s most magical natural events at the Fusion Moonrise, taking place on Sunday, 10 August. As the full moon rises over Napier Terrace, it aligns perfectly with the iconic Fusion sculpture located at the Carnarvon Street roundabout in Chinatown — creating a breathtaking visual that draws photographers, locals and visitors alike.

The moon is expected to rise at approximately 6:30pm, with its peak alignment above the sculpture occurring at around 7:10pm. This rare phenomenon only happens twice a year, making it a must-see moment that blends Broome’s rich cultural heritage with the beauty of its natural environment.

The photographer faces a few challenges. You cannot make the moon large by getting closer, the distance you can move your tripod is nothing by comparison with the distance from the lens to the moon. If you want the moon to be big in frame you must use a long lens. If you use a long lens and want to get the sculpture in the frame you must move back. The moon stays at the same angle (the distance you can move the tripod etc.) As you move back the apparent distance between the moon and the top of the tripod increases. If you want to bring the distance down you must move forward and use a wider lens. By the time the moon is just off the top of the sculpture it is tiny in frame.

The moon at night is very bright in the sky. The sculpture on the other hand is quite dull and not artificially lit. How dull varies depending on whether headlights are playing on it or not because only part of the street is closed to traffic. So a long and not entirely predictable exposure for the sculpture, shorter for the moon. You’d like them both in focus? Well good luck with that!

The only answer I can think of is … to Cheat! Take a few shots of the sculpture, choose the best. Take a good shot of the moon. The fusion occurs when you the merge the two.

Dingo …

“My men saw two or three beasts like hungry wolves, lean like so many skeletons, being nothing but skin and bones”.

William Dampier recorded this observation from his voyage of 1699 and you can count the ribs on most wild Dingos without any trouble at all. How apt that I should take these photographs of mum and her pup on the Dampier Peninsula, not far from Cygnet Bay.

Magnificent though they are they are just domestic dogs although some people would make it much more complicated. Make it Canis familiaris dingo if you must but they belong fair and square in the dog clade along with all the other breeds. They came on boats, with people, about 3500 years ago and probably spread quickly across most of Australia, perhaps within a century. When the poms rocked up in Sydney in 1788 they found the aboriginal folk had companion animals which in the local language were called Dingos. They are also very capable of surviving in the bush without their companion animals which call themselves humans. Which means they have had a lengthy period being shaped by their environment rather than selective breeding. Hence the beautiful conformation. Built for power, agility and speed. I love’em.

On any other continent they would be considered mesopredators but since it’s the biggest predator we’ve got it is by default our apex predator. But give it its due, it can take down our biggest native herbivore, the Red Kangaroo, and a pack will give it ago with a horse or Water Buffalo if need.

Prior to the Dingo’s arrival the Australian mainland was home to the Thylacine and the Tasmanian Devil and of course since their arrival stupid white people have introduced cats and foxes. There is much debate as to the role played by the Dingo in the disappearance of the former and their influence on the latter. Toss into the mix the fact that Dingos and graziers don’t get along and our regulators have a difficult time working out just what to do with them. Yes they are considered native animals in all states. In most states they are protected inside National Parks and largely persecuted outside. In Western Australia they are not protected anywhere. Tasmania missed out on Dingos but you may import one provided you first get a permit. Once there the law regards it as a dog. You may keep one as a pet in Victoria. You must have a permit and you may not breed them except with another Dingo.

How did they cross the sea? The genetic evidence makes it very likely that Aborigines island hopped to Australia about 50,000 years ago and they have remained genetically distinct until very recent times. So I think we can dismiss the idea of a recent Aboriginal immigration bringing their hunting companions with them. However, Timor is just 500km from the Kimberley coast, Sulawesi about 1000km. At its narrowest point Torres Strait is only 150km wide. Sea levels 3500 years ago were little different from today.

Sulawesi was home to the Macassan sailors who were well documented seasonal visitors to Australia’s northern shores from at least 1700 gathering sea cucumber for sale to Chinese merchants. There is no shortage of possible origins of island hoppers a couple of millennia earlier who may have intentionally or unintentionally found their way to Australia with their pets on board. Pets that were sufficiently domesticated to share close quarters with people during the crossing.

Bush Birding …

Birding and photography began for me in primary school but as quite separate activities. An uncle was a professional photographer and it was in his darkroom that I first saw the magic appear in the bottom of a dish, then be moved to the fixer and then get pegged up to dry. Quite where the birding came from is much harder to fathom, school friends perhaps. I put the two together during a period when I was getting out on pelagic trips regularly and it grew from there.

When I’m out birding the camera is around my neck but what I most like to do is wander around making a list of birds, taking photographs only opportunistically. Some days I don’t take a shot, others are really productive. I don’t go out to take a photo of one particular species but that’s not to say that there is not a target list tucked away in my head. A good shot of Gouldian Finch has been on that wish list for a long time.

Gouldian Finch are found in grassy woodland across the top of Australia from the Dampier Peninsula in the west to Cairns in the east. They are not especially common or reliable. The juveniles are quite drab but the adults give the Many-colored Rush Tyrant a run for its money. And wait, there’s more. Their faces need not be black, there are red ones and gold ones usually all present in the same flock.

If the Crocodiles …

… or the Irukandji don’t get you watch out for the Pied Oystercatchers.

I’m just back from Cygnet Bay at the top of the Dampier Peninsula. It’s a very beautiful spot, the birding was good and the weather was, of course, perfect. I enjoyed long walks on the beach. Some of the migratory waders are on their way back. Common Sandpipers are here, early Sand-plovers have been seen. It’ll soon be buzzing. Not to mention the resident waders like Red-capped Plover and Pied Oystercatcher. Apple Mangrove was in flower, Kingfishers and Herons were about.

In my bird banding days I put a ring or two on Oystercatchers, they are timid in the field and docile in the hand. Adorable. One foraging on the sand started giving a ticking alarm call. It was quickly joined by its mate and they were up and away in hot pursuit of a White-bellied Sea Eagle. They dived at it, pecked at it and harassed it until it was gone from their happy place. The character in the photo above subsequently began ticking away at me. It then led me off in a distraction display. I was happy to play along – I was going that way anyway.

I did some bush birding too. That can be the next episode.

Willie Creek …

One of the experiences we always inflict on our visitors is the tour at the Willie Creek Pearl Farm. It’s really interesting, I love it. Our current visitor took a pass on the tour but had heard it was a great place to fish. Intelligence was, low tide. So we headed out first thing this morning. He caught nothing … should have taken the tour.

I went for a wander and soon had the perfect view of a crocodile hauled out on the beach. Not, perhaps perfect for a photo, but perfect for an encounter. The best place for closer encounters is the Malcolm Douglas Wildlife Park. We were there recently. A top priority for a croc farm is ensuring the visitors are not eaten by the residents. Photography is not a high priority at our croc farm, too many fences … but you can hold little crocodiles (adorable). So, compare and contrast crocodile photography wild versus captive (you shouldn’t have any trouble working out which is which) …

I took my dearly beloved to the Willie Creek Pearl Farm on her birthday once. You’ll never guess what I bought her. It was a hot day and she really appreciated it. The ice cream that is.

Irukandji …

We have a visitor at the present time escaping the deep freeze of a Victorian winter. Just as small children are an excellent excuse to go to the zoo, a visitor is an excellent excuse to go to the croc farm and to head out whale watching. Having inflicted these activities on our guest we gave him the choice of what to do next. His response was to swim at Cable Beach.

So off we went to Cable Beach and found the beach closed. Someone had detected the presence of Irukandji … the hard way. This is much more of a wet season phenomenon so they were extremely unlucky.

Back in the days when the pearling was done by men in old fashioned diving helmets most of their skin was well covered but from time to time a diver would be stung by nobody knew quite what leading to extreme pain, vomiting and a profound sense of dread and depression.

On the opposite side of the continent, north of Cairns, beach goers were similarly affected in the summer months. This was in the ancestral land of the Irukandji People and in 1952 Hugo Flecker gave it the name Irukandji Syndrome. What caused it was a puzzle. Subsequently Dr Jack Barnes, a general medical practitioner, thought he had the answer in a casserole dish, a tiny jellyfish retrieved from the waters of Palm Cove.

Jack would have been familiar with Koch’s Postulates published in 1890 when medicine was coming to grips with which agent caused which disease. The third postulate requires that the supposed agent cause the appropriate disease when a healthy organism is exposed to it. The good doctor’s activities had drawn a crowd so right there and then, on the beach, he called for volunteers to make contact with the jelly fish.

Enthusiasm was limited. In the end Jack himself, his 10 year old son Nick and a Lifesaver named Charles “Chilla” Ross elected to be stung. There is some delay before the onset of stomach cramps, vomiting and severe pain but it wasn’t long before Koch’s postulate was satisfied. Jack drove into town to obtain medical care for the trio from his colleagues. It was December 1961, medical experiments are done a little differently these days – now you have to sign a consent form first.

Quod erat demonstrandum and the jellyfish was named Carukia barnesi, in honour of 10 year old Nick I hope. It has subsequently been joined by perhaps as many as 15 more similar species under the catch all name of Irukandji Jellyfishes.

They are tiny (about the size of a finger nail) and transparent. They have 4 tentacles, the stinging organs (nematocysts) are found on the tentacles and around the bell. The toxin is extremely potent. In 2020 some 23 people were stung in the vicinity of Palm Island, Queensland. Seven required hospitalisation, none died but deaths have occasionally been reported.

Many of the nematocysts at the site of a fresh sting are not discharged. Rinsing them off seems like a good idea. There is a lively and unresolved debate as to whether this should be with vinegar or not but your mother was right – don’t rub it.

I have not photographed Irukandji nor am I rushing off to Cable Beach to try and catch one but I have scoured the internet and shamelessly filched a couple of photos …

Jellyfish …

A trip to the beach in the last few weeks has revealed a massive influx of jellyfish (and tourists). These particular jellyfish (and many of the tourists) have a distinct red colouration.

The third shot was achieved by getting in the water and shooting upwards including the reflection from the surface.

Calling, once again, on the amazing resource that is iNaturalist I believe that this is Crambione mastigophora common enough in the Indian Ocean and known to “bloom” from time to time. The dome grows to about 15cm in diameter. They feed on invertebrates and small fish. When prey come in contact with those tentacles they are stung and then transferred to the mouth under the dome.

The common name given by iNaturalist is Sea Tomato but that is shared by some other critters including a sea anemone in the Mediterranean. Elsewhere I have found it called Tomato Jellyfish which I think a better choice.

Bush Point …

As I point out from time to time Roebuck Bay is the Shorebird Capital of Australia. The shores are in part accessible by car from Broome. Other parts are more of a challenge to reach and are therefore less well studied and less frequently disturbed. Bush Point is 22km due south of the Port of Broome and not easily accessible except by boat. That’s not to say that other means have never been employed. Over the years hovercraft and 4WD vehicles have been used but boat is the most practicable. However boat does have the drawback of limiting time ashore to about one hour on each side of high tide. It’s the 10 metre tides that expose the mud that feeds the birds that make the bay the Shorebird Capital of Australia. Deal with it.

The other day I had the enormous privilege to accompany a party of keen volunteers ably led by Chris Hassell of the Australian Wader Studies Group on the regular winter count at Bush Point. The project has been running for 24 years. Parks and Wildlife provided the boat, a landing craft style catamaran that ripped along effortlessly at 25 knots across the bay. The front was lowered and we stepped off into a few inches of water, not a crocodile in sight.

A winter count is revealing. A migratory shorebird with any intention of breeding is somewhere between here and Siberia. Birds on the beach are mostly too young to breed. The age that they reach maturity varies from species to species. Some species will return north in their first year others spend one or more years in the southern sunshine before going. As a rule the bigger birds wait longer than the smaller ones. If summer counts are available comparing the two gives some indication of breeding success over the recent past.

Our priorities were straight forward. First and foremost to count the migratory shorebirds, secondly the resident shorebirds and we were to avert our gaze from anything not a member of the Charadriformes. This is ornithology, guys, not merely bird watching. We were divided into two groups and sent forth to count. Easy …

Well, easier when they’re on the ground and keeping them on the ground means a little stealth and maintaining a considerable distance. Identification and counting is done with telescopes.

Opportunities for photography were very limited. If a group flew by you might just get a shot …

An hour after high tide the volunteers reconvened for the journey home.

So what did we find? Two parties covered about 4km of beach amassing a total of 13,400 individual migratory waders representing 20 species. Red-necked Stints were the most numerous and these would be in their first year of life. Whimbrel and Great Knot were well represented.

In the few minutes before being put on a short leash and obliged to trudge for miles through soft sand while being sun burnt and bitten by sand-flies (Gallipoli and Normandy were worse, I believe) I did get to point the camera at non-target or low priority species …

Sula …

There is an anecdote, apocryphal I’m sure, relating to the days when Bird Week was a thing at the resort on Fraser Island, Queensland. The leaders were on the ferry. Our hero is a well known birder, author and broadcaster. As the boat neared the shore he started dancing with excitement calling out, “Boobies, boobies”. His fellow bird nerds were in in-principle agreement but more restrained. Quite what the tourists made of it is a matter of speculation.

There are nine members of the Sulidae. Three temperate species are called Gannets, the remainder prefer warmer waters and these are the Boobies. They all have similar body forms and feed on fish and squid by plunge diving. They are restricted to marine habitats and for the most part stay fairly close to shore.

The species I see most often is the Brown Booby. It is found near tropical shores all around the globe with the exception of the west coast of South America. They can often be found at the Port of Broome or the nearby Entrance Point. They loaf on rocks or floating navigation aids when they’ve nothing better to do. They are quite happy to feed close to shore. They patrol up and down and plunge onto their prey. They tend to do this singly or in pairs or a trio. It’s good to watch and each one does the best it can but it’s not the spectacle of a frenzied mob turning the surface to foam that flocks of Gannets occasionally provide.

The scientific name is Sula leucogaster, the sulid with the white belly which doesn’t advance your identification at all because all the sulids have white bellies. The common name, Brown Booby, doesn’t help greatly either. At anything greater than arms length they look black and white. They are the only sulid with a dark hood cut off sharply across the upper breast.