A-BIRD-IN-THE-HAND

I’ve just discovered this fabulous app, called a-bird-in-the-hand*, available free for now at: http://www.geometry.com.au/index.php/a-bird-in-the-hand. It’s offered by Tasmania parks through the iTunes store – and it’s downloading even as I write. (At least I hope it is… ) It gives images and calls and details about 23 Tasmanian birds, including (I think) most of the endemic species. Since I arrived, I’ve been hearing calls and songs I don’t recognize and asking people what I’m hearing (mostly they don’t know), wondering if that musical thrush-like song is in fact a thrush (it turned out to be a European blackbird, an introduced animal here), or if the frantic speeded up wren-like song might be a wren (it was, but more on that later).

[*Note that if you search bird in hand Tasmania you’ll actually turn up historic photographs of an old hotel … ]

I’m thrilled to have discovered this! It remains to be seen whether my iPod will host it, so that I can in fact carry these birds into the field with me, but maybe I can listen to them on my computer, and that’s better than nothing. Or silence.

While my mind is on birds, as it has frequently been since I began this trip, I’ll list below the birds I’ve actually encountered so far, by date. Let me begin by noting that the pilot of the plane that flew me to LA from Chicago was Captain Brad Heron …

Sept. 10: Melbourne Airport – within the terminal several small birds on the floor revealed themselves to be those international citizens, English or house sparrows

Hobart – Irene walked me to the entrance to Knocklofty Reserve at the end of the street in the evening. The air was full of calls and songs I didn’t recognize. On the way back we sighted a large (grackle-sized more or less) black bird with a grey nape on a lawn, perhaps feeding.

Sept. 11: Mid-morning, after hearing all sorts of songs and calls but sighting nothing I finally got the glasses on a small brownish bird in a tree. It was slightly larger than a sparrow, but sparrow-like in shape—though its black bill had a slight curve to it, was slender perhaps. Pale breast with horizontal stripes though I couldn’t see if they went right across it or not. Wings seemed long, with dark brown tips and what looked like pale stripes across the feathers. It shifted position and its back suddenly glowed greenish, a kind of pale iridescence. Searching the bird book it seemed it might be a shining bronze-cuckoo! Though the bird in the photo didn’t seem to have the correct shape its breast markings were accurate – and the Horsfield’s cuckoo on the preceding page, which had the overall look of what I’d seen is uncommon here.

Afternoon, walking with Kevin by the quays after lunch we saw a black-faced cormorant and lots of silver gulls with their brilliant scarlet feet and beaks.

Sept. 12: After breakfast I watched flashing wings in the gum tree two yards away. The birds were mostly backlist and fast, darting and chasing. They were in pairs and occasionally in threes, till one was chased away. It’s spring here after all. Lots of screeks, mews, squawks. I finally got a good look at one—dark mottled front, dark tail framed in white, reasonably large. It put its head straight up to call. Then a few minutes later it hopped up a few branches and fed another one—clear courtship behaviour. I couldn’t identify them, but later in the afternoon we went to the museum and looked at the bird display: little wattlebirds! The museum also seemed to confirm the cuckoo.

In the afternoon we walked up Knocklofty and followed the Summit Trail round—were gone roughly three hours, long enough for me to feel sore-footed when we got home. Again I was surrounded by unrecognized calls. Irene wanted me to hear and see a kookaburra—and in fact one flew over and perched in a tree where I got a reasonable look at it, but it didn’t call. It’s HUGE!—and a kingfisher, which I didn’t know before. We saw more little wattlebirds, perhaps some yellow wattlebirds (too fast to be sure), watched some small long-tailed birds flying fairly high in and out of foliage, and heard and then saw forest ravens. Their call is clearly a raven call. They were particularly noticeable in one stretch of the walk and Kevin said we above the tip or dump—so no surprise those opportunists were there.

On the downhill stretch we caught sight of a small flock of birds flying in and out of a clump of low shrubs. They flew very quickly, with something of the flycatcher about their movements, perhaps in pairs. They had white edging to tails and wings it seemed, at any rate they caught the sun and turned translucent. I got a good look at one or two finally—to see a shape and brownish colouration, white streaks on the wings. After some paging back and forth in the bird book I realized they were dusky woodswallows, a very pretty bird.

Sept. 13: We went to Gould’s Lagoon, out of town, after lunch. It’s named for naturalist John Gould and is a smallish wetland. Approaching it I thought there were odd trees growing out of the water, but they were actually clumps of reeds, not yet greened. All sorts of birds were there: chestnut teal, small and elegant, three of them perched on a railing as we arrived and several more in the water; a mallard; Eurasian coots with their bobbing heads and pale beaks; a single Australian shoveller; a pair of kelp gulls; over on the shores away from the walk were several large birds I couldn’t get clear in the binoculars at first—they turned out to be purple swamphens; some welcome swallows were swooping about over the water and then lighting on the large nesting boxes. I might have seen a black duck, not sure—and something pale, like a Cape Barren goose, but again not sure. On the way back to the car we spotted a bird with black and white markings on its head – at home I found it was likely a strong-billed honeyeater.

From the Lagoon we drove a little farther upriver to a spot where there’s road construction, and where we could watch black swans. The wind was up and water rough, but I still got a good look at several—as well as several ducks.

Late in the afternoon in Andrew’s backyard I heard a musical song and asked what it was. People looked around puzzled and then said it was a blackbird—with great scorn. The bird isn’t liked here—it eats fruit for one thing and isn’t native. But it’s a lovely singer.

To be continued …