Tassie and a Lot of Western Australia Birding

Western Bristlebird, Cheynes Beach, WA

As I begin this it is the twelfth of September. The tale I will tell starts on Monday the second of September with a flight from Melbourne to Hobart, TAS. Several of us were to do a double-header pelagic out of Eaglehawk Neck on Tuesday and Wednesday. The weather was beautiful on Tuesday and that usually bodes poorly for birding and it was a bit pedestrian out there. We had a white-morph Southern Giant Petrel that was stunning to see. That was cool, but nothing else noteworthy (as in, no new birds for me). 

 

The next day, we had a bit more wind, but it was still northerly. It seems that a southwest wind is preferred for the pelagic birds there. Around eleven-thirty that morning Peter Vaughn, our very qualified spotter and great guy as well, called our attention to a dark-headed albatross. He said to take photos of it as it had a “Salvin’s look” to him. Many of us, even including me, took photos. Unfortunately, it was decided that it was just another immature Shy Albatross and we went on about our day. So again, no lifer pie for me.

       

(Photo by Murray Scott)

The next day we drove up to Hobart and flew back to Melbourne. I was home in Lara in the late arvo. That evening I put my photos on the laptop. I had a good look at the dark-headed albatross and it did look different to me. I decided to post a couple of my mediocre shots to the Seabirds and Pelagics Facebook page for opinions. Long story short, and over 90 comments later, it was definitively determined to be a first-cycle Salvin’s Albatross. Let there be Pie! Yay! Lifer! However by then it was after 10pm and I put that pie in the “bank” for later. The next day was a big travel day.
       

           

I was going to Western Australia with my new dear friend and new birder, Alan Stringer on another birding trip. I was grateful for his sorting of the flights, a task I have always found daunting. We were to fly to Perth at 6:15pm arriving there at 8:35pm western time (or 10:35 to us Victorians). Our flight was delayed. Now we were to depart at 7:05 and arrive at 9:25 (11:25 to us Victorians). When it was all said and done and baggage collected and transport to the motel sorted (close to the airport, but still an addition fifteen minutes, their shuttle had issues). It was going on 11pm western time. I will stay with that time for the remainder of this tale. I finally got into the under whelming motel room and was asleep about midnight.

We had a flight to Esperance at 9am. The shuttle was leaving at 7am, so I was up at 5am. We met Mike Carter at the shuttle. “The” Mike Carter if you have read my book (and if you have not, why haven’t you?). Mike is a wonderful guy and has seen more birds in Australia than anyone else. His list is at 898 or 899. He is not sure. He is also 85 years old. This trip was based on going for the endangered Western Ground Parrot in Cape Arid National Park with him and Tony Palliser. We would be birding for three days with legends. How could we dip? Well, we could.

The small turbo-prop plane was on time and we arrived in Esperance mid morning. Tony hired us a 4WD and we were off to Cape Arid before noon. It is over an hour just to the beginning of the very rough, muddy track into the park. The optimum Western Ground Parrot birding area is another 40 to 45 kilometres down that track. It takes at least an hour and a half to get out there from the beginning of the park. The first day we did not go that far, but still trudged determinedly through over ten kilometres (I carry a FitBit) of the scrubby uneven habitat. My energy reserves were down already. But I certainly gave it a go. I got my lifer Western Fieldwren (split from Rufous Fieldwren) and I put that pie in the bank with the Albatross.

The next morning we birded in another section of the park that had been recommended to Tony by Nigel Jackett. Again we did a whole lot of walking with no success. We trudged about 12 kilometres. Tired much? I was just trying to keep up with an 85 year old. Damn.

The following morning we left Esperance at 4am (I was up before 3am of course). We were hoping to hear the parrots calling at first light or before. We arrived out there on first light and heard nothing. We birded hard all day without success. Well, we had dipped on Western Ground Parrot as you do. If I were to go back, I would want to drive Troopi and camp out there. Thus being able to wake in the midst of the best habitat in the dark and listening for them. But that will have to be another trip. I will go back someday.        

   

Garry Deering (left) took this selfie shot of our intrepid group... Me, Tony, Alan and Mike. I am waiting to hear how Garry did. He went back out there to camp and keep trying.

Tuesday morning did a bit of local birding in the heat around Esperance. It was odd to be in shorts and sweating. We walked the flats of the world famous Pink Lake. Spoiler alert: it is NOT pink at all. It hasn’t been for years (see the photo of the sign). 

     

       

Then we took the very muddy 4WD hire car to the carwash and then to the airport. It had a 100 kilometre limit with additional charges per kilometre after that. So it turned out our car hire was dear indeed, but splitting it amongst 4 of us certainly helped. 

We flew back to Perth together where Alan and I bid a fond farewell to Mike and Tony. Yes we had dipped, but we had us a very good time in general.

I was collecting our bags whilst Alan found us an economy hire car (it was busy as at the car hires). Then we drove just 25 minutes to a lovely little motel in Armadale called the Heritage Country Motel. I highly recommend it. I had a shower and a nice night’s sleep and in the morning we were off to Cheynes Beach Caravan Park where we had a cabin booked. For birders it is the famous place for three skulkers: the Noisy Scrub-bird, the Western Bristlebird and the Western Whipbird.

I wrote about this famous caravan park in The Year. We had seen the Scrub-bird and the Bristlebird. We had not even gone for the Western Whipbird in February 2016 since we had just seen one less than a month before on Kangaroo Island. But then… I.O.C. split it and the Whipbird in South Australia is called the White-bellied Whipbird and in the far west it is called the Black-throated Whipbird. Seeing that bird was the reason for this part of the trip (for me).

We arrived late arvo on Wednesday. We dashed out and gave the Whipbird area ago without success (they are truly morning birds) then we gave the Noisy Scrub-bird an unsuccessful try down by the beach as well. We resolved to be out at the Whipbird area before first light. We were there at 5:30am in the dark. We were to learn that at least whilst we were searching, that the birds did not call until about 7am and in general they were not calling a lot. However that first morning we did hear one call a few times and about 8am it did a long, clear call. It was repeating what I refer to as “Hot for Teacherrr” (Van Halen). We were standing there with 2 other birders and no one could spot it. And after that long call, it did not call again. I was nervous and decided to add a third night to our reservation.

That evening Alan got the classic Noisy Scrub-bird run-across. We heard it call and call and then go quiet for maybe 5 minutes. I whispered that I thought it was moving and to watch the track and then it did! It dashed across the track! It was just about the same place I saw it shoot across in 2016. Same place three and a half years later, very cool.
             

Friday morning we met Jo, a new birder friend at the same area of track at 5:30am. It was oddly quiet. I am not sure that we heard the bird that morning at all. Certainly not the “Hot for Teacherrr” call. An experienced birder who had visited there a dozen times or so speculated that perhaps the birds were nesting. I don’t know. I added a fourth night to our reservation. 

In the meantime, Alan was picking up lifers… Spotted Scrubwren, Western Spinebill, Red-capped Parrot and many more. He began compiling his list this past January. He is a lot of fun and has become a very good friend. He is also a tolerant birding companion. I can be overly intense at times, but we got on well indeed. Friday afternoon the cooperative Western Bristlebird hopped out on the track for some photos. Skulker? Not so much at least whilst we were there.
   

Saturday morning began grey and drizzling. I opted to leave my camera in the cabin. We walked further up the left track, maybe a kilometre or so and back without success. We were in our usual spot, within 100 metres of the fork when Alan heard the Whipbird do part of the call pretty far out in front of us. We followed Alan's ears into the scrub along Kangaroo tracks across to the right hand track. It did the partial call again in the scrub in front of us maybe 50-60 metres in. We walked toward it and stood scanning the brush with our eyes and our bins. I saw a bird perched on a bush only about twenty metres in front of me. I brought my bins up to my eyes and I was looking at the olive-grey back of a BLACK-THROATED WHIPBIRD! There was no doubt. I said, “I’ve got the bird!” It dropped down. I turned and literally with tears in my eyes, I hugged Alan. But now we had to find it for him as well of course. After about ten minutes or so of looking, it did show for us. It was on a dead branch about a metre high to the left of the little group of trees in front of us. It was not calling. I said, “On the stick to the left of the tree.” And Alan replied almost instantly, “Got it!” And we both had it. The bird turned to us in full view. It preened for a second, fanning and showing the underside of its lovely tail. We saw the black throat and the slight crest. It was giving us incredible views. I whispered, “Take a picture.” And to his credit, Alan said, “I am just looking at it.” Bravo mate. Here is an Internet picture clearly showing one of the views that it gave us. Even seeing this photo makes my heart rejoice again! 

When I posted on Facebook that we had gotten it, I said we viewed it for 10 maybe 15 seconds. In retrospect this was generous. We had probably an excellent 8 seconds to stare at this incredibly skulking and yet so very mobile bird. They move around their area a lot and yet I never saw this one fly. After our 8 seconds, it dropped down and was gone. That bird owed us nothing more. It had shown itself totally to us, front, back and under. The Lifer High was glorious. I had tears again. We spent the rest of the day celebrating. I had ice cream on a stick and a delicious burger and chips made by our new friends D and Costa.
   

I love the staff at that caravan park. I have made several friends there, genuine friends. These are people with whom I will remain in touch and who I reckon to see again. There is an energy exchange amongst individuals when genuine connections occur that is precious. I cannot live without it, nor will I take it for granted. Emma, Ian, D, Costa, Joanne, you are dear to me. As I said it is precious. It is life sustaining. Such connections are the basis of all this sharing for me… the reason for sharing and the best of sharing.

I love y’all. Here are a couple more pictures from around Cheynes Beach Caravan Park.
 

I write therefore I am. I share therefore it's real. I love because it is life.