Ben Cruachan - natural history

I love birding, that must be obvious to readers of this blog, but perhaps I haven’t mentioned that my wife loves it too. Unfortunately, for many years her opportunities to enjoy our shared love have been very restricted due to acquired photosensitivity. UV rays are the villain, and it’s only when they are at a low level that she can venture out.
The reading is still still low at the moment, so this afternoon we gave Peter a call and went up into that special creek in the hope that she would see the Powerful Owls. It’s a wonderful walk, huge trees shading gardens of ferns, and mossy banks and cliffs where the greenhood orchids are still flowering. One tall sloping cliff is outstanding, covered with a thick layer of moss which in summer will be dry and brown, but is now moist and a wonderful shade of green. Near the top, Nodding Greenhoods were clinging to the slope, their stems greatly elongated and contorted, unusual, and so different to those that were growing at our feet.

We were hoping to see the owls at the tea tree glade where Peter spotted them a week ago, but there was no sign, so we continued on to the gorge. This is a place of coolness, huge boulders and narrow passages, rocks covered with mosses and Rock Felt Fern, and water trickling down the puddingstone ledges in a thin stream. Just the place for a girl to sit and enjoy being out in a magical part of the bush, so leaving her seated comfortably we walked on still hoping to strike it lucky. Fifty metres further on there was a rock slab with leaves of three species of orchid hugging the moss, and Peter’s sharp eyes spotted one in flower, a Helmet Orchid. I could see his camera being unslung, and here’s the result.

I left him to it and went on up the creek, passing through prime roosting territory without a sign of the owls. There were compensations though, Eastern Spinebills were flitting around in numbers, and I got a wonderful view of two Crescent Honeyeaters, I’d been hearing their calls but they can sometimes be infuriatingly difficult to spot. Then, just as I was about to turn back, a movement on the ground up ahead had the bins swinging up and on to a bird I hadn’t seen for quite a while, a Bassian Thrush. I followed it through the bush for a hundred metres with the camera at the ready, but it was too good for me and I had to give it best.
Feeling a little disappointed by now I made good time back along the track, and as I neared the head of the gorge I saw Coral, her eyes wide, “I’ve seen it ” she said. “It swooped down over me and I thought it was going to land on my head!” To say I was pleased would be the understatement of the year, she’s missed out on so much over the last decade, and if there had been room on the narrow track to dance a jig I would have tried it!
The bird had flown on down the creek, so we started the return journey keeping our eyes peeled, they usually don’t go very far before perching again. We reached the glade without incident, thinking we had missed out, but then heard a “hoy” from Peter who was bringing up the rear. He’d made a small detour, and found the bird perched in a low tree over the creek. It sat quietly while we approached to a safe distance, and Coral was able to focus her bins on one of our most magnificent birds.

It seemed to us to be smaller than previous sightings, the male is larger, so this was probably the female we were looking at. The cameras were clicking of course, and although the lighting conditions were tricky we got pictures that showed the bird in different poses. They are in the gallery, the last five images are the ones we got today. Finally our friend got tired of the attention and flew off down the creek to a more secluded location, leaving three very happy birders to push on back to the vehicle. As the heading says, some days are diamonds.