gang aft agley, as Robbie Burns famously wrote, and it was a bit like that for us yesterday. The first Neophema parrot count comes up in a couple of weeks, so Peter and I thought we’d go down to our patch, Jack Smith Lake State Game Reserve, for a preliminary look. Our plan was to walk towards the water at the western end, hoping to see parrots on the way, and Double-banded Plovers on the mud and sand flats at the far shore. Flame Robins winter there too, and were a possibility, although I thought it might still be a bit early.
When we crested the last rise in the road and looked over the vast expanse of the reserve, there wasn’t a sign of water, and we knew immediately that things weren’t going to be good. This was borne out when we drove to our first location, the salt marsh was dry and dessicated, there were no parrots, no Flame Robins, and only the occasional Calamanthus, so it was back into the car and on to the swashway. Whatever the conditions there is always some water there, but when we arrived the only birds to be seen were four swans, one teal, and a few Red-capped Dotterels in the distance. We decided it was worth the walk along the water to the corner as it’s a good area for parrots, but when we reached the edge, the reason for the lack of waterbirds became obvious. The water was a rich soupy green, affected by an algal bloom. We pressed on regardless, but halfway to the end we could see it was a waste of time and turned back with another plan in mind.
For some time we’d been talking about a trip to McLoughlin’s Inlet, so decided that this was the day, and after a coffee, headed back along the track towards the main road. We were nearly there when we saw a bird drop down into the adjoining paddock from a fence post, up with the bins and there was the distinctive shape of a robin perched on top of a thistle stem. Over to the fence with glasses and camera, and a search brought up one adult male and two immature Flame Robins. Beauty, now for a picture, but as I was circling around to get the sun behind me, the male flew and I lost him, however an immature male posed nicely, you can see the beginnings of colour on his breast.
On then to the inlet, where we had some lunch before setting off for the footbridge that crosses the water to the strip of land between the estuary and the ocean. Over to the right though, beyond the boat ramp, were some Royal Spoonbills, White Ibis, Silver Gulls, and an Egret, resting and preening in the glasswort beside the mangroves. A pause for some photos, then we crossed over, and as we approached the banksia dominated bush, we could hear a cacophony of wattlebird calls. At this time of year the Coastal Banksias are halfway through their flowering, and honeyeaters regularly migrate to share the nectar flow. As we walked along the track towards the ocean beach we counted six species, Red and Little Wattlebirds, Yellow-faced, White-eared, New Holland, and White-naped Honeyeaters. The activity was quite frantic with the competition for the best flower spikes, we would have been well advised to sit for a while with the cameras ready, but there was a fair distance to go, so after snapping the White-naped we pushed on to the beach.
Click for a larger picture.
The surf was roaring in the southerly, Gannets were patrolling the break in small groups, while further out large numbers of Fluttering Shearwaters were moving past in a seemingly unending stream, showing their dark backs and white underparts alternately as they dipped and banked over the chop.
On the way we’d noticed a track leading to the entrance, so we retraced our steps and took it, expecting it to give us easy access to the estuary. A couple of kilometres later we gave up, and after picking an opening, threaded our way through the dense bush towards the sun, soon coming out on top of a low cliff above the water. After sliding down in a shower of sand, we walked west along the water’s edge to a wonderful tussock flat bordering a dense stand of mangroves. Birds were calling, but they eluded us, so we started the hike back to the footbridge, and halfway there Peter made the sighting of the day. The Hooded Plover is doing it very tough these days with much of its breeding territory subject to disturbance by humans and dogs, but there, about forty metres in front of us, was a pair of these smart little birds. They were well aware of us, and when we quickened our steps to try and get closer, they quickened theirs too, keeping a constant distance between us. Finally however they went out on to a spit allowing us get a little bit closer, the range was still too long, but at least we got pictures.
Soon after we were joined by an immature Pacific Gull which followed us for a while, but then we were over the bridge and back at the ramp, where an immaculate adult was resting on a reef. Another youngster showed up too, joining the Silver Gulls that were hanging around waiting for a handout that never came. Then just as we were about to get into the car for the drive home, twenty one Yellow-tailed Black Cockatoos flew over from the banksia bush, heading inland, a nice sighting to end our day. It had been a different kind of outing, not going at all to plan, but finishing full of interest, with the Hooded Plover sighting one right out of the box.
SOunds like a great day, Duncan. I didn’t realise you’re so close to the ocean (or at least close enough). Nowhere here is far from the sea.
We are really fortunate here Pete, we have the Gippsland Lakes system, the Great Dividing Range, the ocean, and the South Gippsland hill country all within an hours drive. My only gripe is that the mallee country is six hours away, hard to please aren’t I!!