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It’s still dark, the early morning light trying to find the crack in the bedroom curtains where they have not been pulled tight together the night before. I should be fast sleep, but I’m wide awake. The loud, piercing call of a grey shrike-thrush is penetrating the bedroom ahead of the yellow rays of a rising sun. It’s like an alarm clock that can’t be turned off. Although the “joe witty” song of the shrike-thrush is one of the most familiar sounds of suburbia and the bush, … [Read more...] about ‘Joe Witty’ sounds alarm

The wood duck family looked content and happy enough on the banks of the Huon River in Franklin. And secure and safe from the attention of a swamp harrier quartering the marshland a little distance away. Every year I hunt for the first chicks of the breeding season, and here I had found them. A remarkable number – 14 in all – chewing the fresh new shoots of grass at the water’s edge. It was a pleasant surprise to see the wood duck family because the first chicks I usually … [Read more...] about Wood ducks recorded for posterity

“Beware the blue cranes,” I shouted to the metallic skinks as I rearranged the log pile into a neater shape, hoping it would be the last time I’d need a fuel supply for my wood heater this year. A far greater danger presented itself to the skinks than the unlikely event of being crushed between pine and peppermint gum. The same hot spring sunshine which had brought out the skinks to bask on bark had also brought the white-faced herons into the suburbs looking for a quick and … [Read more...] about Herons on the catwalk

The female pink robin flitted about me, uttering her distinctive “tik” contact call. There was something about her flighty, nervous behaviour that told me she had a nest somewhere close by and my presence was causing her concern. I had seen the female in the same spot in the Waterworks Reserve a month previously carrying nesting material in her slim, sharp beak.  And I had returned to see if I could locate the nest. The robin’s behaviour told me that I was getting warm in my … [Read more...] about The joys of nest hunting

The arrival of the last of the migrants – the satin flycatcher –  is supposed to signal the official start of the summer season but this year the travellers got their timing horribly wrong. As a male flycatcher sang out from a stringybark on the lower slopes of kunanyi/Mt Wellington, the summit was coated with snow. I didn’t even try to find the bird. The cold drove me home and when I returned next morning more blizzards overnight had brought the snow line down below the … [Read more...] about Gems in the canopy