Glorious Morning at Allen Road

I remain a humble Pom at heart [aside: for those overseas readers who may be unfamiliar with the term, Pom is an endearing term often used by Australians when referring to those of us who arrived in this country from England]. I find it difficult to resist a wry smile when I listen to the natives, particularly those enamoured of Queensland [the Sunshine State], wax lyrically that this is “God’s own.” More often than not these sentiments are expressed when the ambient temperature is searing in the high thirties to mid-forties, with humidity at 100% or better. No wonder God chose the Middle East rather than Outback Australia as the earthbound home of His only begotton son!

This past Sunday however, we did experience a truly glorious morning. The temperature only grudgingly crawled above 15 Celsius; there was a crispness to the air that invigorated not only the lungs but the entire spirit. A slight mist came up from nearby watercourses setting an eerie tone to the immediate surroundings.

Admittedly the early part of the morning was not the best for birding, vision was limited to perhaps ten metres all around. On the other hand, where visual impressions were perhaps curtailed, aural perceptions seemed correspondingly enhanced.

In those pre-dawn hours before first light filtered through we could hear the distinctive call of the Southern Boobook Ninox novaeseelandiae [an owl of the Strigiformes], accompanied by the deep boom of the Tawny Frogmouth Podargus strigoides [a nightjar of the Caprimulgiformes]. Oddly enough the next call we heard, at 0555 hours [70 minutes prior to official sunrise that day] was the rather plaintive call of the Australian Wood [Maned] Duck Chenonetta jubata, followed a few minutes later by the somewhat harsh alarm call of the Masked Lapwing Vanellus miles.

The Laughing Kookaburra Dacelo novaeguineae, often the earliest herald of the dawn, was late that morning; its initial call coming only 42 minutes before sunrise rather than its more customary 50+ minutes prior to daybreak. Almost invariably it was followed by the truly melodic song of the Australian Magpie Cracticus tibicen.

By 0546 hours, still nineteen minutes before sunrise, the Yellow-faced Honeyeater Lichenostomus chrysops announced its presence. This honeyeater has featured almost regularly over the past week as part of the “Dawn Chorus”. To gauge the significance of this bird please note my earlier blog, Reflections on Some Honeyeaters.

At 0554 hours the White-winged Choughs Corcorax melanorhamphos announced their arrival at the southern feeder, followed two minutes later by the raucous Apostlebirds Struthidea cinerea and finally, at 0557 hours [eight minutes before the time set for sunrise] a solitary Australian King-Parrot Alisterus scapularis added its sultry tones to the mounting cacophony around us.

That amounted to eighteen species from the first call of the Boobook to daybreak – and all mostly tallied while Fay and I lay in bed enjoying the first cup of tea for the day. Almost all. The earliest birds were down to me and my diabetic insomnia.

With daylight abroad came the Magpie-lark Grallina cyanoleuca and the endearing Willie Wagtail Rhipidura leucophrys. The Common Bronzewing Phaps chalcoptera, Variegated Fairy-wren Malurus lamberti and Little Lorikeet Glossopsitta pusilla added to the morning’s total. Sometime during the mid-morning, with temperatures still well below 20C, the White-browed Scrubwren Sericornis frontalis [see Missing in Action] and Striped Honeyeater Plectorhyncha lanceolata began flexing their vocal muscles.

From somewhere far off to the east Fay, whose hearing is far superior to mine, heard a Fan-tailed Cuckoo Cacomantis flabelliformis, a rarity at this time of the year; a little later the Eastern Whipbird Psophodes olivaceus was heard and finally, as we strolled around the dam we spotted a single White-faced Heron Egretta novaehollandiae perched high in a tall gum overlooking the water. It was around 10.30am, the temperature a little above 15C and a long list of chores awaited our attention but it had been a glorious morning for birds with a final tally of 36 species before we laid aside binoculars and notebook.

Try that while sweltering under a blazing sun with the mercury already in the mid to high 20s by mid-morning!

Marbled Moments

Marbled Frogmouth. Image via ozanimals.com

Nocturnal species along Allen Road are literally few and far between so you can imagine our excitement when last week [26 March] we heard the distinctive call of a previously unrecorded night bird. It was the seventh night-time bird on our Backyard List.

Diabetes and insomnia go hand in glove. I was wide awake and up in the small hours of the morning, “catching up” on entering my handwritten Backyard List sightings into Bird Journal. The call came from the northwest quadrant and sounded close. My initial reaction had been of a Southern Boobook Ninox novaeseelandiae with a sore throat. It wasn’t of course.

Under normal circumstances, if being up and about regularly at around 0300 hours can be described as normal for someone in a diurnal occupation, I would allow Fay to sleep through to breakfast at a more reasonable 0500. On the other hand I have a vivid imagination and could foresee a few uncomfortable moments if I later revealed the presence of a new Backyard List species, indeed a mega addition, and had allowed her to sleep through the experience.

An early morning cuppa and the BOCA discs set to the nightbirds overcame any displeasures Fay may have felt at being stirred [not shaken] before the time set on her alarm clock.

The discs simply confirmed that the identification was incontrovertible. We were listening to a Marbled Frogmouth Podargus ocellatus!

It was the first nocturnal addition to our list since the Powerful Owl Ninox strenua back in October 2008 and that bird had also initially called from the northwest quadrant. And yes, I had been up and about, only on that occasion I was ensconced on the north verandah – October nights can be rather warm and the yellow light bulb helps keep the bugs away.

The Powerful Owl had been the first new nocturnal entry in more than six years. Our Eastern Barn Owl Tyto javanica first appeared on the scene back in August 2002 and has become an irregular feature of the witching hours ever since.

Remarkably enough, the first four nocturnal species were all recorded in our first year at Allen Road [2001]. Top of the List was the Australian Owlet-nightjar Aegotheles cristatus and the only entrant that we saw before ever hearing it. Our immediate neighbour [sharing the eastern fence-line] had a large, old tree remnant with a number of suitable hollows along its entire length. We spotted the owlet-nightjar depart from one of the upper hollows a few hours into dusk and thereafter heard it on a regular basis. Sadly, when Fred sold up, the new owners, with two small children in tow, proved to be rather paranoid regarding snakes and wizened trees too close to the house. The old hollowed stump was felled. The Australian Owlet-nightjar disappeared in September 2003.

September 2001 was a comparatively bumper time for nocturnal additions. The Southern Boobook was first heard on the 1st of that month. It has become among the more regular night-callers along Allen Road.

The vision of our first Tawny Frogmouth Podargus strigoides will remain eternally etched in our memories. We’d been hearing the call for some time previously. Back in those days there was no house, only a shed, a campervan and a campfire. A few feet from the campfire is a tall gum with a horizontal branch protruding out perhaps a metre and a half from the base. We’d just eaten and were enjoying the first sip of a rather pleasant shiraz when we were suddenly distracted by a quick movement. There had been no sound, no whoosh of wings, no sighing of bent branches, or rustle of disturbed leaves. The frogmouth simply alighted as silently as a ghost on the aforementioned horizontal branch. It remained perched there for what seemed a age but in reality was probably no more than a few minutes. It seemed as curious of us as we were excited at seeing it. My camera was still in the nearby campervan but neither of us dared move a muscle; we were transfixed.

At the end of December 2001, and again I was out on the north verandah tapping away at the keyboard, we heard the unmistakable booming of the White-throated Nightjar Eurostopodus mystacalis coming from somewhere over the western boundary. We last heard it in April last year [2010].

We prefer to disregard the record of Papuan Frogmouth Podargus papuensis listed on DERM’s Wildlife Species List for the South Burnett region. It is hundreds, nay in access of thousands, of kilometres out of its accepted range and was, anyway, last sighted in 1908.

MISSING IN ACTION

Most backyard birders tend to concentrate on the species they see and/or hear; it adds to their tally. Fay and I are among that league. Certainly we are always pleased to add a new species to the list but also enjoy the continual return of old favourites.

There are however those species that seem to be dotted around the immediate vicinity of Allen Road but have yet to be recorded anywhere along the street; those missing in action.

The core niggle is not the rarities, as itemized on the Department of Environment &Resources Management official Wildlife Species List for the South Burnett region. We congratulate those fortunate birders who have recorded such gems as: Black-throated Finch Poephila cincta [according to the List last sighted in 2003]; Painted Honeyeater Grantiella picta [circa 2002]; Sooty Owl Tyto tenebricosa [last sighted in 2007]; Swift Parrot Lathamus discolour [last seen as long ago as 1994]; Coxen’s Fig-Parrot Cyclopsitta diophthalma coxeni, a subspecies of the Double-eyed Fig-Parrot [1966];

Nor would we expect regular sightings of species such as Paradise Parrot Psephotus pulcherrimus, lasted recorded in the South Burnett region at the end of 1915 but now generally presumed to be extinct throughout its former ranges. Nor would we expect the Grey Falcon Falco hypoleucos to suddenly put in an unexpected appearance, given that it was last seen in the region in 1908. And while the ever-elusive Red Goshawk Erythrotriorchis radiateus remains a distinct possibility, we will not be holding our breath in anticipation – they can range over territories in excess of 200km2.

Allen Road has had its moments, or at least it has since Fay and I first began recording the local birds back in April 2001. Indeed, as early as 3 June 2001 we were fortunate enough to have crippling views of Black-chinned Honeyeater Melithreptus gularis; it was still here a week later [11 June] and while it has never been here again since, it was recorded in the general South Burnett region in November of that same year. Ours must have been among the last seen hereabouts.

The near threatened Square-tailed Kite Lophoictinia isura was noted flying over our property in March 2008. The Powerful Owl Ninox strenua, listed by the Department as vulnerable, was heard distinctly calling from a little west of the house in October 2008.

No, it’s not the megaticks that concern, they’re just part and parcel of everyday twitching. Our puzzlement remains with the lesser species, those that we have recorded on a regular basis from only a few kilometres away but which have yet to appear on our Allen Road Backyard List.

Take the finches. Our only Allen Road record is of the Double-barred Finch Taeniopygia bichenovii. Indeed, it has nested in our orchard. However, a mere five kilometres away, along Berlin Road, we have recorded both the Red-browed Finch Neochmia temporalis and Zebra Finch Taeniopygia guttata. The habitats are not that dissimilar. Why have they not taken the step across to Allen Road?

Both the Little Anthochaera chrysoptera and Red A. carunculata Wattlebirds have been recorded in the wider South Burnet region but not along Allen Road.

However, of most concern to Fay and I remains the humble robin, any robin! Our birding friends Colleen and Robert Fingland, who, as the [Torresian] crow flies, live no more than a few kilometres from us on ten hectares, have both the Red-capped Petroica goodenovii and Eastern Yellow Eopsaltria australis Robins on their backyard list. We have recorded the latter along Berlin Road.

The Department’s Wildlife Species List records no fewer than eight robin species for the South Burnett: Eastern Yellow Robin; Hooded Robin Melanodryas cucullata; Jacky Winter Microeca fascinans; Scarlet Robin Petroica boodang; Red-capped Robin; Flame Robin Petroica phoenicea; Rose Robin Petroica rosea and Pale-yellow Robin Tregellasia capito.

No robin has yet been recorded along Allen Road in the time that Fay and I have been monitoring the local species. Why?

We can accept the absence of the Hooded Robin; it is a species associated more with drier habitats and no doubt sighted on the western reaches of the South Burnett. The absence of Jacky Winter is also understandable; in our experience it prefers more open woodland, wider paddocks and country roadsides. The South Burnett must be close to the northern range limits of the Scarlet Robin. The same would appear to hold for the Flame Robin. The Pale-yellow Robin prefers skulking in rainforest habitats

However, what of the Rose Robin? We have enjoyed fantastic view of this species only 40km south at Emu Creek.

But the bottom line, the pain, remains the absence of the Red-capped and the Eastern Yellow Robins. They are dotted all around us but continue to resist putting in an appearance along Allen Road.

Image via Ákos Lumnitzer @ amatteroflight.com

All Quiet on the Allen Road Front

Overall aerial view of Allen Road. To the right [east] is the Nanango-Maidenwell Road. The fainter line to the left [west] is Andrew Road. The house can be seen at the approximate centre. The circle towards the bottom [south] is the dam. The blue line denotes the extensive area of Casuarinas


All told, it’s been a rather quiet birding time along Allen Road. Matters have not been helped by our inability to do our usual walk, either up towards the Nanango-Maidenwell Road junction or down to Andrew Road. Having a tree, well, a substantial main branch at least, suddenly fall across the Orchard/Middle Compound fence tends to rather preoccupy one’s attention… all the more when the chainsaw fuel line decides to rupture part way through the task!


Allen Road looking east to the Maidenwell-Maidenwell Road.






We continue our early morning birding, sitting in bed, both windows ajar [thank goodness for mosquito mesh], cup of tea in hand, listening to the growing crescendo of the Dawn Chorus. At weekends we do actually record these precursors to sunrise; during the working week we simply enjoy the various symphonies on offer.

Earlier in the week, Wednesday 9 March, Fay did note a handful of White-throated Needletails Hirundapus caudacutus overhead at the Allen/Andrew Road corner. They are often seen as portents of forthcoming storms. A minor rainstorm hit us on Sunday.

On returning from visiting our [non-birding] son [see the recent post at Birding the South Burnett] on Saturday, I drove a little further than normal past the gate, to allow for the trailer. I spotted a black bird in a low growing Casuarina, perhaps four metres to the west of the track. My initial reaction was to dismiss it as just another crow but immediately realized that the entire topographical jizz was wrong for crow. When I heard the soft crunch of large bill chew a Casuarina seed I knew the Glossy Black-Cockatoos Calyptorhynchus lathami, the darlings of our Backyard List, were back. Indeed, on closer examination we noted a pair of these beauties.


Allen Road looking west towards Andrew Road.





It was too tempting. We alighted and searched the area until we gained better views of the pair. I got in a couple of very poor shots [failing light remains my only excuse] before the bird flew off to the north.


Sacred Kingfisher Todiramphus sanctus @ Allen Road.

We’d no sooner got back into the car than Fay spotted the Sacred Kingfisher Todiramphus sanctus perched on a branch of the dead tree overhanging the track. We had written it off a while back as just another migratory species that had returned to its alternative residency. Perhaps when I have eventually transcribed all our handwritten notes onto computer I’ll be in a position to put together a paper on the local comings and goings of this little gem.

Other than these highlights the past week at Allen Road has been rather quiet- and science conferences will keep me away for the next two Saturdays!

Reflections on some Honeyeaters

Image via en.wikipedia.org

Yellow-faced Honeyeater @ nest

It couldn’t happen again, could it? But it did. I’d come across a similar problem when reflecting on the Noisy Friarbird Philemon corniculatus [previous post].

Heavy overnight rain [in excess of 50mm over a few hours] found us, the following morning, walking down to the front gate, inspecting the condition of the track; we were expecting guests for dinner later that evening and didn’t want them becoming bogged if the surface had become too soft. It was as we passed the run-off to the “Duckpond” [a small dam we had excavated a little over a year ago] that we first heard the call of the Yellow-faced Honeyeater Lichenostomus chrysops. A moment later it flew across the track, disappearing somewhere in the woodland to the east.

It wasn’t new to the Year List [we’d ticked the first back in January]. It wasn’t even new for the 2011 Allen Road List [that had also occurred in January]. It had however become something of a rarity to our backyard.

Our ornithological position has always been to the effect that in the early years of our residence in Allen Road, the Yellow-faced had been the dominant honeyeater; its close relative, the Blue-faced Honeyeater Entomyzon cyanotis a comparative newcomer, a latter-day usurper. It was a stance we adhered to rather rigidly.

Blue-faced Honeyeater, juvenile [note the green rather than blue face].





Then of course, as in the case of the Noisy Friarbird, along came Bluebird Technology’s Bird Journal software. I can only repeat that neither Fay nor I have any commercial association with this company but nevertheless, while admitting that it does not perfectly dovetail with all or birding requirements, it is one of the best bird recording programs I have come across in many a year.

In transcribing hundreds of handwritten records onto the computer it inevitably brought a few facts to light; shed a little reality over the dimness cast by time.

Yes, the Yellow-faced Honeyeater has seniority over the Blue-faced; it was first recorded here [as the 13th new Backyard List species] on only our second visit to Allen Road, 21 April 2001. It was there again on the subsequent visit, Saturday 12 May 2001 and again on the next day, Sunday 13 May.

However, also present that Sunday, as the 35th addition to the Backyard List, was the Blue-faced Honeyeater.

The Yellow-faced Honeyeater was reported on all 13 trips to Allen Road throughout June 2001, including one visit [29 June] when only two honeyeaters were recorded [the other being the Noisy Miner Manorina melanocephala]. The Blue-faced was not.

That initial pattern set the mould: the Yellow-faced was the dominant resident honeyeater; the Blue-faced was merely an occasional visitor.

That remained a fairly accurate assessment throughout 2002, although the Blue-faced was beginning to put in more appearances and, on albeit rare occasions, was present when the Yellow-faced was not [e.g. 31 March; 25 June 2002].

The status quo remained until the end of the first week in July 2003; the Yellow-faced was present on our visit over the first weekend in July 2003 [4-6th]. It was not reported in any of the five subsequent July visits nor, indeed, in any of the eight visits made in the following month, August.

It was next recorded on 4 October and again on 1 November 2003. During the latter part of 2003 the Blue-faced Honeyeater was beginning to be recorded on almost every trip to Allen Road.

Their roles had reversed; the Blue-faced had [and remains]] the more dominant of those two honeyeaters.

Image via en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Lewins_Honeyeater










I apply the pronoun those in that in all these reflections on the seniority and reporting longevity between the Yellow-faced and Blue-faced Honeyeaters [species with the word honeyeater in their name], Bird Journal rather sharply reminded me that throughout this same period two other members of the honeyeater family, apart from the Noisy Miner and the migratory Little Philemon citreogularis and Noisy Friarbirds, were consistently recorded and regarded as permanent at Allen Road; Lewin’s Honeyeater Meliphaga lewinii [first recorded on the same day as the Blue-faced, 13 May 2001] and the Striped Honeyeater Plectorhyncha lanceolata which was initially recorded on 21 April 2001 [alongside the Yellow-faced Honeyeater], giving it seniority over the Blue-faced and Lewin’s Honeyeaters. Indeed, the latter has remained a firm fixture, a resident, on our sightings lists while the former, like the Yellow-faced, now puts in only rare visits.

Striped Hineyeater. Image via Ozanimals.com






Nevertheless, hope remains for the Yellow-faced Honeyeater; over the past week it has been heard calling from somewhere in the northeast quadrant on at least three occasions.



There are 74 species listed under the Meliphagidae family [Christidis & Boles, 2008] of which 14 have been recorded at Allen Road. Along with the seven already mentioned above there have also been:

Eastern Spinebill Acanthorhynchus tenuirostris
Spiny-cheeked Honeyeater Acanthagenys rufogularis
Brown Honeyeater Lichmera instincta
Black-chinned Honeyeater Melithruptus gularis
Brown-headed Honeyeater Melithreptus brevirostris
White-throated Honeyeater Melithreptus albogulasris
White-naped Honeyeater Melithreptus lunatus

BACKYARD DARLINGS

All bird species are of course most welcome at Allen Road. We extend the invitation to anywhere along the 2km length of the road, from its junction with the main Nanango-Maidenwell Road to its confluence with Andrew Road. Indeed, our offer covers the entire South Burnett region. All we ask is that we [Fay and I] are there when a particularly rare species does put in an appearance.

Yet for all the above, it would be less than honest of me not to admit that there are some species in more favour than others.

Don’t get me wrong, the humble Magpie-lark Grallina cyanoleuca or the oft maligned Torresian Crow Corvus orru are not spurned or driven away as if they were the lepers of avian society. Far from it but they are present each and every day; up close and raucous to boot. They have become a commonplace and complacency has set in- on both sides of the biological divide. The crows ignore all our efforts to keep them away from the duck and chicken eggs while the magpie-larks rotate early morning duties on the verandah rails and call until either one or both of us are awake and out of bed. We have rarely resorted to alarm clocks since moving to Allen Road.

They continue to bring pleasure: the crows when their young have fledged and continuously beg for food. At those times we can even feel sorry for the stressed adults endeavouring to keep the ravenous young satisfied. The magpie-larks brought a smile this year when they successfully reared their second clutch but tinged with a little sadness when the second of their well-developed youngsters simply disappeared.

Nor do we bear any malice to the introduced Spotted Dove Streptopelia chinensis or the much detested Common Myna Sturnus tristis. The doves are harmless enough, nay, they are really quite attractive birds. We initially noted a pair but nowadays see only one.

The mynas present a more serious threat. We first saw them back in the 1980s at a north Sydney railway station where they covered platform and tracks like a writhing carpet of feathers. Years later, our good friends Richard & Bess Newman of Redcliffe, occasional birdwatchers rather than dedicated birders, reported seeing a pair outside the Clontarf State School. Fay and I rushed around to confirm the sighting, a sad first for the Redcliffe Peninsula. On our last visit there, while not abundant, the mynas had certainly become common.

The Pale-headed Rosella Platycercus adscitus comes high on the list of favoured species, if for no other reason than that last year they showed a lot of interest in my “manufactured” rosella nestbox. They entered it, they looked it over but decided against it. We relocated it from the Dog Compound grey gum to the Wren Garden angophora; from facing southwest to northwest; we live in hope of eventual occupancy.


Among Fay’s top birds is the Australian King-Parrot Alisterus scapularis, a striking mixture of vivid red and dark green. They remain among the more confiding of the wild species and can even be coaxed into feeding from your hand. They will land on chair backs and stare through the open French doors to investigate any human indoor activity. The recent sighting of the “Kinky King-Parrot"[see previous posting] has added an element of expectancy; will it reappear?

Given a Backyard List in excess of 140 species there are many among the “more favoured” echelon: the regular summer migrants continue to please, typically, the spectacular courtship displays of the Dollarbird Eurystomus orientalis; the male/female duet of the Eastern Koel Eudynamys orientalis; the deafening call of the Channel-billed Cuckoo Scythrops novaehollandiae.

Some have been “favoured” since, or near, the inception: the raptors, a Wedge-tailed Eagle Aquila audax at the original visit, a Nankeen Kestrel Falco cenchroides at the subsequent visit, the Brown Falcon Falco berigora of September 2001. Others were considered a little special but then disappeared, some, the White-browed Scrubwren Sericornus frontalis and the Eastern Whipbird Psophodes olivaceus, making recent comebacks to once again feature in the “more favoured” list.

Many more could trip off the tongue: Australasian Pipit Anthus novaeseelandiae, Australian Owlet-nightjar Aegotheles cristatus, Dusky Woodswallow Artamus cyanopterus, Leaden Flycatcher Myiagra rubecula, Rainbow Bee-eater Merops ornatus and of course the humble Yellow-rumped Thornbill Acanthiza chrysorrhoa.

However, yesterday’s sighting of the Glossy Black-Cockatoo Calyptorhynchus lathami served as a timely reminder that we have long since felt a special affinity with this beautiful bird. We first recorded it for Allen Road back on 8 July 2001; the 60th Backyard List species on only our 20th visit to the property.

All three of the Black-Cockatoos present in the South Burnett region have been recorded at Allen Road: the Red-tailed Calyptorhynchus banksii [first sighting, 27 January 2002], the Yellow-tailed Calyptorhynchus funereus [first sighting, 10 June 2001] and the Glossy.

The Yellow-tailed, the most common of the three, is classified as “secure” in all states, in which it is actually present, with the exception of South Australia where it has been defined as “vulnerable.” It is the most common of the Allen Road black-cockatoos.

Of the five races of Red-tailed Black-Cockatoo, concern is at its most poignant for the south-eastern form, C. b. graptogyne. The Allen Road specimens are those from the nominatemore widespread form, C. b. macrorhynchus.

And so we come to the real Darling of the Backyard List, the Glossy Black-Cockatoo, one of the more threatened of the black-cockatoos and listed as “vulnerable” both in New South Wales and Queensland. It was the reason I agreed to take on the role of Conservation Committee Chair with BASQ – only to discover that the Glossy Black Conservancy meets during the working week! I am lead to believe this is to facilitate the attendance of people paid to help with the bird. Those of us prepared to give up our own free time –and without pay- are relegated to the nether ranks.

Nevertheless, Fay and I continue our work on behalf of this, the smallest of Australia’s six black-cockatoos. We record every sighting, here along Allen Road and in the wider South Burnett community. One of our major replanting programs on the property is the propagation of allocasuarinas [particularly the Black She-oak Allocasuarina littoralis], the favoured food of the Glossies in this area. Plans are afoot to design and construct nestboxes suitable for this bird.

Kinky King-Parrots

View of four parrots. The one on the left is clearly a male; the one at the right, a female. On the feeder itself, the right-hand bird is another male Australian King-Parrot but what is the one on the left?
p.s. The photo also shows the view from our south verandah

One could wax lyrical about the bird but in simple terms it is probably an Australian King-Parrot Alisterus scapularis that isn’t quite an Australian King-Parrot.

Yesterday, following a day at work, Fay and I found ourselves relaxing on the east verandah, enjoying a glass of the 2007 Thompson Estate Andrea Reserve cabernet merlot [from the, Margaret River, Western Australia], listening to a little Dvorak [Symphony No.9 in E Minor, Op. 95]. We were not particularly birding although from the settee on this verandah we could look across to the orchard and what we refer to as the “Middle Compound.” When not out in the field, our binoculars are usually to be found on the settee, along with my camera [a simple Sony 100 with a 70-300mm telephoto lens almost permanently attached].

The Crested Pigeons Ocyphaps lophotes and Bar-shouldered Doves Geopelia humeralis were quietly feeding from the grain I had scattered in the Middle Compound for the four young cockerels we’re rearing. A female Magpie-lark Grallina cyanoleuca was perched in a tree at the further end of the orchard while a pair of Galahs Eolophus roseicappilus were busily trying to shove more food down their juvenile’s throat to shut it up; young begging galahs can make enough noise to awaken the dead.

There was a pair of Australian King-Parrots at the south verandah feeder. The now almost traditional noisy but harmless kerfuffle between the parrots and the more aggressive Rainbow Lorikeets Trichoglossus haematodus had passed; the latter had ousted the gentler King-Parrots but had then abandoned the sunflower seeds to re-indulge in more favoured fodder on the south feeder.

I happened to look up as from the corner of my eye [albeit diabetes having now reduced the functioning of that eye to 60%] I noted another King-Parrot alight on the terracotta feeder. With its back turned to me I casually called it a female.

Only it wasn’t. Or rather, it didn’t quite fit the complete bill for an Australian King-Parrot.

Note the shade of green and the extent of the red underbelly. All wrong for an Australian King-Parrot.






The green was wrong, too light, more in line with the Red-winged Parrot Aporosmictus erythropterus that are occasional visitors to the property. Fay, an artist with a far better eye that I have, thinks even that it not quite on the mark; the green of this bird was a little paler than even Red-winged Parrot green.

When the new arrival came alongside the male at the south verandah terracotta feeder their differences in size became immediately obvious. The male Australian King-Parrot clearly exceeded 40cm in length, as per the field guides and, perhaps more importantly, in line with the description proffered by Higgins [Handbook of Australian, New Zealand & Antarctic Birds, Vol. 4, 1999]. The interloper, if such it be, was barely 30cm from bill tip to the end of its tail.

Again, note the paleness of the green and the extent of the red under the belly. The flush of red at the upper breast suggests this is approaching a male but at what developmental stage?





Over the years, both prior to moving here to Nanango and certainly since taking up residence in Allen Road, Fay and I have observed an incalculable number of Australian King-Parrot specimens; adult males and adult females together with countless juveniles in varying degrees of development. Yet none has ever matched this bird in size or colouration.

We considered the possibility of it being a slightly older bird, perhaps a first immature male or female. Higgins [1999] separates the males at this stage from their younger counterparts by the “small scattered orange-red patches on breast, throat and sometimes head.” First immature females are more difficult, their plumage being much as adult females but retaining juvenile remiges and rectrices.

However, at this stage in their development, the red on the male’s breast would be more clearly demarcated, approaching its adult stage; its bill would be acquiring orange or red on the upper mandible with a dark grey tip. The equivalent female would have a brown upper mandible.

While it would appear that Fay and I were almost indisputably looking at an Australian King-Parrot, anomalies remain unanswered. The intruder did not behave like a youngster and was certainly self-feeding. The differences in size remain indisputable.

In the end it flew off with one of the two adult males on the verandah.

So, the question is, what do we have here? Is it no more than an aberrant Australian King-Parrot or perhaps an anomalous Red-winged Parrot. Or is it simply a hybrid between the two?

The entire jizz appears to be wrong for Australian King-Parrot but what else can it be? A hybrid? Possibly a cross between Australian King-Parrot and Red-winged Parrot?