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| Red-kneed Dotterel |
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| Tawny Grassbird |
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| Chestnut-breasted Manikin |
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| Hardhead |
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| Latham's Snipe |
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| Black-fronted Dotterel |
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| Red-kneed Dotterel |
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| Tawny Grassbird |
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| Chestnut-breasted Manikin |
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| Hardhead |
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| Latham's Snipe |
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| Black-fronted Dotterel |
Our morning workshop on the 7th was at Two Dog Hermit, where large mixed groups of waders gather on the off-shore rocks as the mud flats disappear under the incoming tide before moving to the beach.
A sea research team from the Netherlands identified over 280 different mud creatures from thin the Roebuck Bay tidal flats. The waders stick close to the edge of the tide as they feed, following the bivalves that are close to the surface at the water’s edge, but bunker down deeper into the mud as the tide recedes.
Eventually, as the tide brings lunch to a close, birds can catch a quick nap.
But instead of simply moving higher on the beach they were feeding on, they strangely commute up to 120kms a day between shady roost sites and the exposed mud flats. Beaches that held huge flocks the day before, may be empty the next day.
As the tide gets higher the hide tide mark is too close to the cliffs for the birds to relax. This day the birds were edgy, with flocks arriving and leaving alternately. The ten metre tide eventually lapped against the edge of the Pindan cliffs, and the birds had gone, perhaps to the plains or the wetlands of the sewerage ponds.
Next day the high tide was a little later in the morning, so we went to One Tree to look for birds in the mangroves and get images of individual waders feeding on the mud flats.
First bird of the day was a broad-billed flycatcher, moving between three favoured perches to sing in the early morning light, followed by a mangrove grey fantail who proved more of a challenge to capture as he constantly flittered through the mangroves. White-breasted wood-swallows perched in the dead trees on the other side of Crab Creek, and yellow white-eyes were in abundance.
In George Swan’s guide to birding the area, he recommends birding the Big Crab Creek trail close to a neap tide as you need to cross Little Crab Creek and you will get stranded on a higher tide. He also gives specific instructions on where to cross Little Crab Creek to avoid the deepest mud. We crossed in plenty of time, and for the most part we stayed out of the mud. We were given specific instructions to be back at the creek crossing within 30 minutes, and divided up into ones and twos to creep up on individual birds feeding. It was a successful morning, with the valuable lesson learned that “40 minutes” isn’t really close enough to “30 minutes”. We had to go further upstream to cross Little Crab Creek and ended up knee deep in mud and thigh deep in water, ferrying cameras and tripods over our head. My shoes stuck in an underwater mud bank, and I left them there.
But using our newly learned birding and photography techniques, we did capture some great images of the waders.
Ruddy Turnstone
Black-tailed Godwit
The Red-capped Plover is resident year-round at the Sandspit. This pair have either bred late, or bred a second time, with two young exploring their back yard while the parents watch nervously. A young White-bellied Sea Eagle flew over sending the babies into the Samphire.
Red-capped Plover - immature
Having done a good deal of work since walking the dogs at dawn, I rewarded myself with a trip out to the Stockton Sand Spit, arriving around ninety minutes after high tide. There were good numbers of birds in the lagoon and salt marsh, and on the beach. There were two men collecting weed from the closest part of the lagoon, so the birds were further out. I crept out through the mangroves on the north side of the causeway, and got good views of the two pied oystercatcher runners, both quite grown up, one a little more independent of the parents than the other.
Three kinds of egret and a spoonbill were fishing in the shallows of the river. A large group of stilt hung around just off shore and a big group of godwit edged the beach. Curlews waited in the salt marsh.
I found a spot where I could sit on a log behind a grass tuft without putting up even the masked lapwing. I didn’t have to wait long until a group of red-capped plover ambled up beside me to forage. The curlew were coming closer. And the godwit were near enough for me to identify at least one black-tailed among the bar-tailed. Terns and gulls were diving for fish.
Then they all took off. One of the weed gatherers was marching straight through the middle of the roost.
I waited half an hour but only the white-faced herons returned. However a peregrine falcon flew over, momentarily low enough for an ID shot.
Bird list.
Ruddy Turnstone
Over the summer Australia has an influx of around two million waders, which like the backpackers who arrive in similar numbers, are escaping the northern hemisphere winter. Like the backpackers again, they are distributed around the beaches of Australia. The full moon of New Year’s Day provided us with extreme tides, uncovering the intertidal flats at Soldier’s Beach on the central coast, and the sun was almost shining through the clouds so Maureen, Alwyn and I met up to capture some of the visitors. Of course as we arrived at the car-park above the beach it started to rain, so we grabbed coffees and huddled under the little available shelter while Maureen told us about all the great birds that were at this spot the day before.
The rain did stop, the sun even came out for a little while, before a late afternoon thunderstorm. We were able to run interference on holidaymakers determined to wander into the middle of the feeding birds, while gently edging close enough ourselves for some photos. As well as the birds above, the rock shelf held Silver Gulls, Great Crested Terns and Little Black Cormorants. A Terek Sandpiper flew on to the far edge of the platform, but didn’t come close enough for more than an ID shot.
(I’m trying Windows Live Writer for this blog post.)