My best birdwatching moments tend to come out of the blue, totally unexpected. So it was with my first-ever sighting of a superb lyrebird this winter.
As I drove along the Lyell Highway, a lyrebird walked across the road in front of me. Although constrained by the car, and not being able to follow the bird for a better sighting, there was no doubt about what I had seen.
Slow, stately gait, a big bird about the size of a chicken, and that long tail shaped like a harp, the lyre.
The sighting was bitter-sweet. I should have been delighted, a new bird for my life-list of birds spotted, but it came with the knowledge that lyrebirds are not native to Tasmania, and considered a problem.
Traditionally the place to see lyrebirds in Tasmania has been the area surrounding the Hastings Caves in the far south and Mr Field National Park where they were originally introduced in the 1930s. Closer to Hobart, I’ve heard they are frequently seen along the Pipeline Track south of Neika but to come across one on the Lylle Highway close to the Tarraleah Hydro Park was a surprise.
The lyrebird is famous for its amazing power of mimicry, impersonating both human and bird sounds, anything from a chainsaw to a currawong.
The bird’s beauty and the fascination it holds for birders comes at a price for Tasmania. Lyrebirds compete with native species like bandicoots for food and have an adverse impact on soil and the make-up of the forest floor. They dig up large amounts of leaf litter, which can affect soil moisture levels, nutrient cycling, and the habitat of invertebrates.
Since there’s no native equivalent to their role, their activities may have significant effects on Tasmanian flora and fauna and research is ongoing to determine the scale of their impact on the Tasmanian environment.
There might be one positive, however. A study in 2014 found lyrebird foraging reduced fuel loads in some forests and led to a lower likelihood of fire.
Ironically, lyrebirds were first introduced to Tasmania in the 1930s because there were fears for their survival in their traditional homeland of Victoria and New South Wales where forest clearance and invasive species like foxes and cats were reducing populations.
As anyone familiar with lyrebirds in Tasmania will attest, they have learned local bird songs and can prove an annoying distraction on birding outings to the forests.
When first introduced to Tasmania after an anonymous lyrebird fan donated funds for their translocation, they brought bird calls from the mainland not heard in Tasmania, and these could be heard well into the 1960s before the new arrivals finally died out and their off-spring learned local songs.
On the mainland, the birds have also been heard to mimic the felling of forests, from chainsaw to crashing trees – an act of recording their own demise.