A great-crested grebe rode the choppy waters of Montrose Bay. It was a pleasant surprise to spot the elegant grebe because I did not have grebes in mind when I set out birding on a chilly winter’s day. I was looking for kelp and silver gulls as part of Birdlife Tasmania’s annual gull count.
A little earlier, strong winds drove me off my intended destination, the gull-dense Glenorchy tip. When I reached the kiosk at the entrance a council office had blocked my way.
“Too dangerous,” she shouted above the roaring wind, which tossed paper and carboard into the air.
So instead I headed to the next port of call on my designated route, Montrose Bay and then all points north on both sides of the Derwent to New Norfolk.
Scanning for gulls, I soon saw the grebe bobbing among the waves, being washed by the spray coming off a white-horses surf whipped by the north-westerly winds.
It was the first great-crested grebe I had seen on any stretch off the Derwent although a little further south-east of Hobart they can commonly be seen on the vast expanse of water on both sides of the Sorrell causeway at Midway Point.
The great-crested is a spectacular bird, literally dwarfing the two other members of the family in Tasmanian waters, the hoary-headed and Australasian grebes.
Out of the three, it can be classed as an international species and on the occasions I see them in Australia I am reminded of my childhood in Britain where they were common on the lakes of Surrey where I grew up.
The great-crested grebe has a long, serpentine neck and in summer sports a chestnut plumage, with long plumes on its head which resemble ears. The grebes lose these feathers with the approach of autumn and for the winter months appear black and white on the water. The bird on Montrose Bay was in eclipse plumage, midway between its summer and winter livery.
The great-crested grebe is noted not just for its plumage. It engages in a courtship ritual in which both male and female approach each other slowly, then speed up and rise out of the water, still facing each other, as though in a choreographed ballet routine.
Although I’ve seen grebes on countless occasions, I have never witnessed the courtship dance, and I live in hope that one day I will see it.
The grebes are superb swimmers diving for long periods to chase and catch fish underwater. At Montrose Bay the grebe was busy feeding and as soon as I focused my binoculars it would vanish under the waves, and reappear some distance away. So the viewing attempt would have to start again.
The gulls proved an easier target. In the strong winds, large numbers of silver gulls and a sprinkling of kelps sheltered from the wind on the foreshore.