In search of monitors – alive

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Unlike my herpetologist mates Steve Wilson and Rod Hobson, I’ve spent little time wandering the remote parts of the scrub tracking down rare and elusive members of that wonderful family Varanidae — the monitors or goannas. Unlike those gents, I have never grappled with the elusive green Emerald Monitor (Varanus prasinus) from Moa Island in the Torres Strait, or scruffled about in the sharp spinifex chasing the tiny but beautful Short-tailed Pygmy Monitor (Varanus brevicauda).

One goanna I have been chasing, and trying to photograph live for years (well, at times, not constantly) is the Freckled Monitor (Varanus tristus). With a total length of only 76cm, and a striking pattern of dark-centred circles, it’s a reptile I’ve been hoping to get an image of. So, in typical Ashdown fashion, with both Steve and Rod in the car, I managed to actually run over one and kill it just outside Barakula State Forest. You can imagine how I felt gazing at this stunning, but very dead, reptile while my ever-supportive colleagues bombarded me with a relentless torrent of abuse for my woeful lack of ability to swerve around reptiles without rolling the car.

Freckled Monitor

Road-killed Freckled Monitor (Varanus tristis).

Skip ahead to Isla Gorge National Park this year, on the last stage of a long day’s walk with mates James Hunt, Rob Mancini and son Harry. I’m tired and way behind. Rob calls out, “Ashdown, there’s an interesting goanna here.” Another lace monitor, I think wearily . “Is it big or small?” “Small, and interesting,” comes Rob’s reply. I wander down and am stunned to see a spectacular Freckled Monitor on a tree right next to Rob. “Nobody move!” I shout like some demented bushranger and stagger about trying to haul the camera out of the bag. My luck holds and I finally get some shots of this exquisite reptile — alive and breathing, even better. Thanks heaps, Mancini.

Freckled Monitor

Very much alive — Freckled Monitor, Isla Gorge National Park.

Here are some shots of a couple of other monitors I’ve had the good luck to encounter. How can anyone get enough of these wonderfully intelligent and diverse reptiles?

Gillen's Monitor

Lace Monitor in old 44-gallon drum, Minyon, New South Wales.

Varanus-varius-and-centipede.-Cooloola-NP,-SEQ.

Very young Lace Monitor eating a centipede, Lake Freshwater, Cooloola National Park. Photo by Steve Wilson (my pics of this lizard were ordinary).

Steve Wilson and sand goanna

Herpetologist Steve Wilson with young Sand Goanna (Varanus gouldii).

For many great shots of monitors, and other reptiles, check out Steve’s two field guides to Australian reptiles. Available at bookshops and online at Andrew Isles.

Flooded forest

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Fellow Queensland Parks and Wildlife Service officer Raelene Neilson recently journeyed to Brazil and Argentina with some colleagues. Sounds like a great time was had. Here are a couple of Raelene’s wonderful images from the trip.

The Amazon River. Photo Raelene Neilson.

Photo Raelene Neilson.  

The Amazon

Black water, white sandy beaches, lush green jungle forests with tall emergents of fruiting kapok trees.

Early morning birding explorations in canoes listening to strange and wonderful birdsong with the low rumble of distant howler monkey calls in the background.

Quietly floating through the flooded forests disturbed by loud splashes beside the canoe from green iguanas dropping out of the trees above.

Silhouettes of colourful toucans in the bare branches of dead trees.

Glimpses of movement through the forest — brown capuchin monkeys darting from tree to tree.

The occasional swoosh of air through water close by the canoe — pink river dolphins fishing for orange-bellied piranha.

A truly wonderful experience.

Raelene Neilson

 

Photo Raelene Neilson. 

Wild jaguars, Pantanal wetlands. Photo Raelene Neilson.

The secret life of Stumpy Blue

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The blue-tongued lizard (Tiliqua scincoides), is the largest skink found in suburban backyards, growing to a length of 65cm from head to tip of tail.

Summer in Queensland means reptiles on the move, as they warm up and get active. This event is usually heralded by fairly stupid newspaper articles about “snake invasions”, as if reptiles had a sudden desire to seek out and attack humans, and as if this was not something that usually happens year in-year out — at least since that last ice age. Maybe papers like our local Chronicle could just explain that it’s an interesting part of the year’s natural history calendar and that people should keep an eye out.

I’m always happy to see reptiles, except that I usually first notice this summer reptile “invasion” when I spot dead Bearded Dragons or flattened Blue-tongued Lizards on the psychotic speedways known as local roads.

Blue-tongued Lizards are great survivors. How do they even still exist in the suburbs? They are slow to move, and apart from a vivid blue tongue (which is flashed about bravely at enemies), they are fairly defenseless. They are an easy target for kids, dogs, cats and cars.

We have several of these large skinks in our yard. A large tail-less adult (named Stumpy Blue by my son Harry) has been hanging around the garage. On a whim, Harry set up a compact camera on a small tripod near where we’d last seen him, set it to record a video clip, tossed down some apple bits, then we walked off to the shops.

When we returned we checked the video footage, not expecting to see anything. Instead we were delighted by a ground-level view of stumpy munching apple, sniffing the camera,  and wandering past. I like the cautious movement and wariness that Harry captured on the video — a small glimpse into the world of the backyard blue-tongue.

The Devil’s rope

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Sugar Glider (Petaurus breviceps) caught on barbed-wire fence, country Victoria. Photo R. Mancini.

Anecdotal reports from landholders and biologists suggest that the entanglement and subsequent death of animals on barbed-wire fences is widespread in Australia. Rodney van der Ree, “Barbed Wire Fencing as a Hazard for Wildlife”, The Victorian Naturalist, 116 (6), 1999.

Over ten years ago Rodney’s study found that 62 species of wildlife have been recorded as being trapped on barbed-wire fences. Recent sources quote 72 species. Figures can’t prepare any naturalist for the disappointment of finding some native creature dead on a fence — it seems like the only time you get to see something up close it’s usually dead.

Rod found gliding marsupials to be the most commonly caught animals, followed by birds and bats. His records came from a wide range of  habitats, and 95% of entanglements occurred on standard-height farm fencing.

Yellow Spoonbill (Platalea flavipes), on station fence near Carnarvon Gorge National Park. Photo R. Ashdown.

The barbed-wire fence was a useful invention for land-holders. Wire fences used before the invention of the barb consisted of only one strand of wire, which was constantly broken by the weight of cattle pressing against it. Michael Kelly made a significant improvement to wire fencing with an invention that “twisted two wires together to form a cable for barbs — the first of its kind in America,” according to Henry D. and Frances T. McCallum, the authors of The Wire That Fenced the West. Known as the “thorny fence,” Kelly’s double-strand design made the fence stronger, and the painful barbs taught cattle to keep their distance.

Predictably, other inventors sought to improve upon Kelly’s designs; among them was Joseph Glidden, a farmer from De Kalb, Illinois. In 1873 and 1874, patents were issued for various designs to strengthen Kelly’s invention, but the recognized winner in this series of improvements was Glidden’s simple wire barb locked onto a double-strand wire. Glidden’s invention made barbed wire more effective not only because he described a method for locking the barbs in place, but also because he developed the machinery to mass-produce the wire. His invention also survived court challenges from other inventors. Glidden’s patent, prevailing in both litigation and sales, was soon known as “the winner.” Today, it remains the most familiar style of barbed wire. Glidden’s patent, No. 157124, was issued on November 24, 1874.

Native Americans referred to this wire as “the Devil’s rope.”

Little Red Flying Fox (Pteropus scapulatus), on a golf driving range fence, suburban Brisbane. It’s a depressing day as a wildlife fan to come across a beautiful animal such as this that has recently died on a fence. In this case the fence was within the Brisbane Koala Conservation Zone, where barbed wire-topped fences are banned. Photo R. Ashdown.

What can be done about animals and barbed-wire fences? Luckily there is now lots of good information about alternatives.

  • If you already have barbed wire fences, the top strand of barbed wire could be replaced with ordinary wire, this would help stop gliders, bats and birds being caught.
  • An alternate method to stop flying animals being caught is to use old garden hose slit down its length, then slid over the top strand of the barbed wire.
  • Strips of cloth or any shiny material, tied at intervals along the middle strand of fencing wire, is another way to help prevent injury by alerting both flying and running animals that the wire is there.
  • The best method of all is simply to get rid of the barbed wire completely. If erecting a new fence please consider the alternatives to barbed wire.

Wildlife Friendly Fencing is a website dedicated to providing information about reducing the effects of fencing on wildlife.

Bird images

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Some more great bird images from Rob Mancini in Victoria.

Eastern Yellow Robin (Eopsaltria australis) on nest, Porcupine Ridge. Photo R. Mancini.

The Eastern Yellow Robin was always the first and last bird of the day calling in the Brisbane bush areas I explored years ago. Photo R. Mancini.

Eurasian Coot (Fulica atra) with young, Newport Lakes, Victoria. Photo R. Mancini.

The Eurasian Coot is found in all parts of Australia except the driest desert areas. Photo R. Mancini.

North Queensland in winter

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Frilled Lizard (Chlamydosaurus kingii), Abergowrie State Forest.

This month I made a quick work trip to photograph some National Park infrastructure projects in the area between Townsville and Cairns, in northern Queensland.

I travelled about 1,800kms in a week, and visited a lot of reserves. My reason for being there was mainly to take photos of things like boardwalks and tracks, and you can’t do much wildlife photography when travelling so quickly. I did see some great critters, including a lot of new bird species (for my personal list), but can’t tell you what they were really, as I left my binoculars at home — the sign of a true professional birdwatcher and naturalist. Grrr.

It rained for the first two days, which made for some magical moments sitting in the wet tropical rainforest listening to the many new birds (that I could not see). I also encountered a Frilled Lizard in the middle of a State Forest road. I grabbed him and took him off the road before placing him on the side of a tree, and got my camera ready to take a pic. This works fine with placid southern Bearded Dragons, but I’d forgotten how fiesty these northern dragons are supposed to be, and all I saw through the viewfinder was the lizard leaping off the tree straight at my head, all teeth, claws, scales and frill … I guess (something) like what it would be like to be chased by a Tryrannosaurus rex … well, you get the idea. After pursuing me through the scrub like a demented, bouncing wind-up toy, attempting to bite my knee-caps off, he calmed down long enough for me to get a few shots. Reptiles — critters with lots of character and attitude!

I was also captivated by the tropical mangroves. The boardwalk at Edmund Kennedy National Park offers a superb ground-level tour of a range of wonderful coastal habitats. Crabs clicked and popped and Noisy Pittas foraged in the patches of melaleuca and eucalypt scrub between mangrove expanses. More mosquitoes than I’ve ever seen, and I got eaten alive staying in one spot trying to photograph a Pitta.

For more photos from my brief trip north, visit my new “Tropical North” gallery, under the NEW IMAGES section of my website.

Broadwater Creek, Abergowrie State Forest.

Grey Goshawk (Accipiter novaehollandiae). Bromfield Swamp Road.

Forest Kingfisher (Todiramphus macleayii), Abergowrie State Forest.

Jourama Falls, Paluma Range National Park, early morning.

Edmund Kennedy National Park.

Noisy Pitta (Pitta versicolor). Edmund Kennedy National Park.

Mangrove roots, Edmund Kennedy National Park.

Cairns Birdwing (Ornithoptera euphorion).

Mangrove reflections, Marrja Botanical Walk, Cape Tribulation National Park.

Pheasant Coucal (Centropus phasianinus). Innisfail canefields.

Grey-headed Robin (Heteromyias albispecularis), Mount Hypipamee National Park.

Wooli fires — one year on

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In September 2009 a large fire ripped through Yuraygir National Park, on the New South Wales coast east of Grafton. The town of Wooli was in the centre of it all. Images I took of the fire were published in Wildlife Australia in March 2010 (below, and see archived blog post from November 2009).

Wooli fires 2009

Wooli – a coastal town surrounded by fire, September 2009. Wildlife Australia Magazine

I revisited Wooli in July 2010, and took the opportunity to take a look at some of the scrub that the fire had affected. The bush was recovering, although it was clear that such a hot fire had killed many canopy trees in some areas. After recent rain it was interesting to see the diverse array of ground plants, wildflowers, fungi and orchids.

Before and after fires

Eucalypt woodland almost one year after the fire.

Epicormic growth on brush-box.

Banksia seedlings and grass-trees.

Most grass-trees survived.

Banksias produced many seedlings, with older plants in flower after recent rains.

For more images of the fire in September, as well as a new gallery of images taken in the same bushland in July 2010, see the “Photostories” section of my website.

Windbreak footprints

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June 2010 saw New South Wales experiencing its coldest winter in over sixty years.

Humans weren’t the only critters trying to get out of the freezing southerly winds. While walking on the beach at Wooli, near Grafton in New South Wales, Harry and I spotted a group of Red-capped Plovers (Charadrius ruficapillus) lined up in tyre tracks, apparently seeking a respite from the wind. These tiny shorebirds are easy to miss when beach-walking, as they race about like wind-blown tufts of seaweed, or freeze and melt into the sand.

While I was checking them out a local walked past, and some of the birds raced over to her footprints, each bird seeming to sink as far as possible into the sandy depressions.

One slightly larger bird in the group of about 15 turned out to be a Double-banded Plover (Charadrius bicinctus). This is a visitor from New Zealand – these birds breed there and travel to eastern and southern Australia in winter.

Red-capped Plovers keep out of the wind in tyre tracks.

Red-capped plover – a very cute shorebird indeed.

Red-capped plovers in footprints in sand.

Some of the birds move quickly to take advantage of human footprints.

Red-capped and double-banded plovers.

A single visitor from New Zealand among the group – a Double-banded Plover. A Red-capped races past the Double-banded (right). Dodgy shots in freezing wind with Canon G10 compact.

Springbrook

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Logrunners (Orthonys temmimckii). Female (left), male (right)

Having tried to sneak up on Logrunners before and failed miserably, it was nice to find this pair scuffling about on the edges of a picnic area, digging up delicious worms and bugs. They were not that wary of me, and were there at dawn, and also at dusk when I returned.

Springbrook National Park.

Ghost Fungus

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Last month good mate and local guru of all things of the bush Rod Hobson alerted me to the presence of some Ghost Fungi on the Toowoomba escarpment.

Says Rod, “I was walking the mutt around the base of Picnic Point this afternoon when I came upon several large clusters of a fungus growing along an old fallen and decaying eucalypt trunk. Although they were of a fairly nondescript appearance they reminded me of the Ghost Fungus (Omphalotus nidiformis) that I was familiar with from the rainforest around Central Station on Fraser Island. This species is very interesting as, at night, it glows with a very conspicuous greenish-white luminescence, which belies its drab diurnal appearance.”

They were indeed Ghost Fungi, and having been all over the place lately capturing images of local fungi, I was keen to get some shots of these. I accompanied Rod that afternoon to photograph the Ghost Fungi in the daylight (first image, left), then returned that night and took some ten-minute exposures (first image, right, and second image). I’m glad I did, as Rod reported that they were pretty much dead, and all out of their mysterious green light, within the next two days.

Guardian article 2017.

The Ghost Fungi during the day (left), and quietly glowing at night (right).

The Ghost Fungus is a saprophyte. The luminescence is caused by a chemical reaction between enzymes in the fungus and oxygen. It’s widely distributed, being known from coastal and subcoastal areas of southern Queensland, New South Wales, Victoria and South Australia, and is also found in Tasmania and the south-west corner of Western Australia. (info courtesy Rod Hobson)

Wooli dust and fires

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In September 2009 we spent two weeks at Wooli, a small town on the northern New South Wales coast.

It was a dramatic taste of things to come with changes in our climate. First to arrive was an immense dust storm, one that covered the entire eastern coast of Australia. The dust gradually headed east out to the Pacific Ocean.

A week of fire followed, with a wildfire burning south east through much of the heathlands of Yuraygir National Park that surround the town of Wooli.

Swamp wallaby killed by somke/fire, Wooli, 2009

First sounds of Spring

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The first humid, warm night in Toowoomba, and a strange, throbbing, continual buzz fills the air.  Toowoomba’s first Bladder Cicadas (Cystosoma saundersii) have emerged.

This is such a common, loud, and ever-present summer song in Toowoomba that I am surprised more people do not comment on the deafening racket that surrounds them on dusk. The calls of the male cicada only continue for 30 minutes to an hour, and fade out as the air gets cooler.

The stunning, large green cicadas reponsible for the sound are hard to track down, as they are fabulously camouflaged, are ventriloquists, and will instantly drop to the ground if you get too close to them. They are 40-50mm in length, and the calling male has an enormously inflated, hollow abdomen. They are found from Fraser Island in Queensland to coastal New South Wales.

Cicada expert Max Moulds reports that there are three colour forms – green, turquoise or yellow, depending on the prescence or absence of two pigments – yellow and turquoise.

Their large hollow abdomen acts as resonant sound radiator, and the song has a remarkable ability to carry great distances with little apparent lack of volume. I have often been lured across paddocks believing all the while that my quarry was in a bush only a short distance ahead.

Max’s wonderful Australian Cicadas, is a must-have book for anyone interested in these fabulous creatures.

Bladder cicada

Closing in on the Bladder Cicada.

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Once they select a spot to call from, the male Bladder Cicada returns from daytime hiding to the same location each night. They live for about two weeks.

Backyard Blues

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Jaunty cocked tail, iridescent blue plumage and boldness in adapting to urbanisation, parks and gardens have made the Superb Fairy-wren one of the most popular and familiar of Australia’s birds. Reader’s Digest Complete Book of Australian Birds

Superb Fairy-wren - male bird.

Superb Fairy-wren – male bird.

My suburb is not a great place for wildlife, compared to other places I have lived. Still, it’s not far to the bush, and some wonderful things travel through, including Grey Goshawks, Peregrines, Golden Whistlers and Satin Bower Birds. The resident wildlife of our small backyard is always entertaining. As winter is left behind the first Blue-tongued Lizards appear, and the most wonderful of backyard birds – Superb Fairy-wrens, are seen and heard through the day.

We have had a pair of these birds nesting in our yard, or the neighbour’s, since we moved to this town. As I walk Toowoomba I often hear the reeling call of a male bird announcing its territory. The fact that these delicate birds can survive life in the suburbs never fails to amaze me.

Lately, the resident pair of wrens has been constantly visiting our blue car’s rear-view mirror and windows. The birds breed from August onwards, so I imagine that the male is aggressively defending his territory against perceived invaders – the female always accompanies him to chase her own reflection.

Up early - the male calls loudly from the Bouganvillea on the shed.

Up early – the male calls loudly from the Bouganvillea on the shed.

I set up a compact camera on a tripod next to the rear-view mirror and trip the shutter with a hand-held remote – it takes a bit of practice. The birds arrive and flit about while I frantically stab at the remote button. At one stage they perch on the camera and peer into the lens while I jump up and down and try to get the flash to fire. The neighbours think I’m a nut.

One morning my son, recovering from the flu, joins me to sit in the backyard – clutching the remote control and peering at the car, when my wife calls to say that the birds are …  in the house. For the first time ever, the male has entered the kitchen and is perched on a blue-coloured decorative acoustic mosque ball – what a photo opportunity! The camera? It’s next to the car, of course – I stand back and he flits out. We laughed a lot about that, it was as if the bird was thumbing its beak at us. These tiny birds have been a delight, and capturing their antics has been a lot of fun – and tested the family’s patience as I traipse in most mornings grumbling about dodgy photos. Nonetheless,  a few shots worked out – here are some. Long may they mess up the car’s glass.

Female scolds male for his vanity ...

Female scolds male for his vanity …

The sun's barely up - the windows are all frosty - how frustrating for a bird! (Three images merged).

The sun’s barely up – the windows are all frosty – how frustrating for a bird! (Three images merged).

... but soon joins him at the glass.

… but soon joins him at the glass.

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Using a remote control to fire the camera.

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Delicate feather marks on a misty windscreen - what better car ornaments could you have?

Delicate feather marks on a misty windscreen – what better car ornaments could you have?

King Island, Rob Mancini

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Good friend Rob Mancini sent this image from King Island in the Bass Strait, where he has been developing some typically wonderful interpretive signs.

 

Rob Mancini, King Island. Photo R. Mancini.

Rob and Terttu Mancini run Evergreen Design, and their work is wonderfully creative.

King Island sign “in the sand”. Photo R. Mancini.

Chicken Hawk

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Each species of Australian raptor – our birds of prey – has a scientific name and an ‘official’ common name. Most of these wonderful birds have other names that reflect their prey or preferred habitat. There’s Fish Hawk for Osprey, Smoke Hawk for Spotted Harrier, Sparrow Hawk or Windhover for Nankeen Kestrel, Duck Hawk for Peregrine Falcon and Chicken Hawk for the Brown Goshawk.

brown goshakw (Large)Brown Goshawks are one of my favourite birds. I’ve spent many days in years gone by in the scrub around Lota Creek, on the outskirts of Brisbane, just trying to catch a glimpse of them, and other raptors. Every sighting of these elusive birds is always a thrill, but without a hide you don’t get too close.

I was recently reminded of how the Brown Goshawk got its ‘other’ name, when I helped a friend, Raelene Neilson, get a juvenile goshawk out of her chicken coop. The young bird had become trapped after entering to catch a dove within. The chickens waited anxiously outside, a sensible move. We eventually managed to help the bird escape, without having to wrestle with it, not a prospect we (or the bird) would have enjoyed. It was great to see it leave unscathed. Raptor guru Penny Olsen notes that even though Brown Goshawks have been recorded as living to an age of 21 years in captivity, the majority of them die in the wild within their first year.

There are some things in life you can never get tired of – and Brown Goshawks definitely fall into that category.