Armour-less arthropods

Cockroaches and scorpions — two pretty tough arthropods, protected from all comers by their tough exoskeletons.

teneral wood cockroach

A ‘teneral’  cockroach (possibly a native Wood Cockroach Panesthia sp.) — ready to grow after shedding its old exoskeleton in a process known as ecdysis. Photograph by Kim Anderson.

But not always. As they grow they periodically shed their exoskeleton in a process known as ecdysis (from Ancient Greek: ἐκδύω — ekduo — to take off, strip off). The ‘skin’, correctly known as the cuticula in invertebrates, is also the animal’s skeletal support, and is inelastic and tough. After the invertebrate casts off its old exoskeleton, the pale and soft-bodied arthropod is described as teneral.

Wood cockroach with shed exoskeleton

The cockroach, next to its shed exoskeleton (its exuvia). Photograph by Kim Anderson.

Within several hours the cuticle hardens (a process called sclerotization) and darkens. During this short period the animal grows — there is a transfer of body fluids from soft parts before the new skin hardens. It may need to stretch constantly to ensure that it can move when its new skin toughens up. Ecdysis may also enable the animals to regenerate missing limbs or repair damaged tissue, although may take several moults to complete. The old, empty exoskeleton is called an exuvia (or exuvium).

Before shedding its old skin, the arthropod becomes inactive for a period of time, undergoing apolysis (separation of the old exoskeleton from the underlying epidermal cells).

Rock scorpion with young

Rock scorpion (Liocheles waigiensis?) with brood of vulnerable young. Leyburn State Forest. Photograph by Stuart Henry.

Some more arthropods in a vulnerable, amour-less state. But this time they have a protector. Unlike most arthropods, scorpions are live-bearers (viviparous). Young are born one-by-one and the brood is carried around on the mother’s back until they’ve undergone one moult. Until that time, they young rely on the mother for protection (unless they fall off, in which case she may eat them).

Young scorpions may need to go through between five to seven moults before reaching maturity. Depending on the species of scorpion, a female may carry from two to a hundred young on her back.

Thanks to Kim and Stuart for the great images.

More info:

Reflections

Photographer and good friend Rob Mancini and I were sitting on the edge of Seary’s Creek, in the Cooloola section of Great Sandy National Park, gazing into the tannin-stained water, mesmerised by the quietly moving water, with its reflected light and half-hidden secrets. I’d tried a few angles with the camera, but gave up trying to capture anything. Rob, however, took this image — which I think captures the feeling of the mysterious creeks and waterways of these coastal heath-scrubs. Here’s a few other images that feature reflections.

Paperbark trees, Seary's Creek, Cooloola, Great Sandy National Park. Photograph by Rob Mancini.

Paperbark trees, Seary's Creek, Cooloola, Great Sandy National Park. Photograph by Rob Mancini.

Carnarvon Creek, Carnarvon Gorge. Photo Rob Ashdown.

Carnarvon Creek, Carnarvon Gorge. Photo Rob Ashdown.

Late afternoon reflections, Carnarvon Creek, Carnarvon National Park. Photo Rob Ashdown.

Late afternoon reflections, Carnarvon Creek, Carnarvon National Park. Photo Rob Ashdown.

Meeba Outstation, Cuddapan, western Queensland. Photo Rob Ashdown.

Meeba Outstation, Cuddapan, western Queensland. Photo Rob Ashdown.

Noosa River, Cooloola National Park. Photo Rob Ashdown.

Noosa River, Cooloola National Park. Photo Rob Ashdown.

Star Trails, Lake Nuga Nuga National Park.

Reflected stars, Lake Nuga Nuga National Park. Photo Rob Ashdown.

Condamine River, Wainui, Darling Downs.

Dawn, Condamine River, Wainui, Darling Downs. Photo Rob Ashdown.

Lota mangroves at high tide. Photo Rob Ashdown.

Lota mangroves at high tide. Photo Rob Ashdown.

Sundown National Park.

The end of a perfect day, Sundown National Park. Photo Rob Ashdown.

Late afternoon sun on gums and sandstone, Carnarvon Creek, Carnarvon Gorge.

Late afternoon sun on gums and sandstone, Carnarvon Creek, Carnarvon Gorge. Photo Rob Ashdown.

Shaking Tern, Wandering Tattler

Crested Tern

Birds are such great subjects, to photograph or just watch. Can you possibly imagine a world without them? Mike’s photo of the Tern captures a wonderful, always photogenic species — in motion, bursting with energy and life. Great lighting, evocative background, a frozen moment in a bird’s fast-forward life.

Michael’s tattler image immediately pulled me into the scene, the subdued light (morning sun behind clouds?), wonderful colours of the rock, the motion of the surf and the tentative, ever-watchful long-distance traveller, such a natural part of the landscape. I can just smell the beach and the water.

Wandering Tattler, north Stradbroke Island

Wandering Tattler (Tringa incana), Deadman's Beach, North Stradbroke Island. Photograph by Michael Hines. A medium-sized shorebird that breeds by mountain streams in Alaska and far eastern Siberia; migrates to southern North America, Central America and northern parts of south America, small islands in the Pacific Ocean, and the east coast of Australia and New Zealand. 

There are no rules for good photographs, there are only good photographs. Ansel Adams

Tracks in the sand — Frank Hurley and the Carnarvon Ranges

The Maranoa River, Mount Moffatt National Park

Smooth-barked apple trees reflected in the Maranoa River, Mount Moffatt section, Carnarvon National Park. Mount Moffatt is a remote park of diverse landscapes. Broad, sandy valleys are covered with open, grassy woodlands, while sandstone cliffs to the north-east lead up to the basalt-topped ridges of the Great Dividing Range. Photograph Robert Ashdown.

The morning sun cast fingers of light between the orange trunks of smooth-barked apple trees. Strange time-carved formations of sandstone suddenly loomed above the woodland canopy. As our four-wheel-drive bumped across the sandy bed of the Maranoa River I glimpsed a distant horizon of towering sandstone cliffs and sweeping, tree-covered ranges. Like others before me I was smitten by the wild beauty of the Mount Moffatt area — part of Carnarvon National Park, in the heart of the Central Queensland Sandstone Belt. “We had a photographer out here a fair while back, a man by the name of Hurley.”  Brenda Vincent, and her son Trent (at the time a senior ranger with the Queensland Parks and Wildlife Service), were leading me on a tour of this remote park. Trent and Brenda had lived and worked here when the land was a rugged highlands cattle property — long before it became one of Queensland’s most treasured national parks. Their thoughtful reflections on life here over several generations and their respect for, and knowledge of, the land through which we travelled made this a special trip. Brenda’s words had me intrigued. “The Frank Hurley?” I asked. “Yes,” said Brenda. “He was out here in the late 1940s.  He took quite a few photos of the station, and we were in some of them.” As a keen photographer, I was hooked — what had the legendary photographer been doing in this remote part of Queensland?

Sandstone Gorges, edge of the Consuelo Plateau.

Sandstone Gorges, edge of the Consuelo Tableland, 1949. Basalt-capped ridges of Precipice Sandstone tower above shaded creeks in this remote part of central Queensland. Photograph by Frank Hurley. Nla.pic-an23148380

Frank Hurley is best known as a photographer of ice and mud — not eucalypt woodlands. Born in 1885, Hurley became an adventurer, photographer and film-maker. As a member of Sir Ernest Shackleton’s 1914 Antarctic expedition, Hurley recorded his most ‘famous’ images. Setting up his large, plate camera on the ice, Hurley photographed the ship Endurance as it was slowly destroyed by the pack–ice within which it was trapped. He then photographed the epic struggle for survival of Shackleton’s men. Returning alive from this expedition, Hurley ended up in the mud of France and Belgium during the First World War; where as official photographer with the Australian Imperial Force he recorded the carnage of trench warfare. Hurley, along with fellow photographer Hubert Wilkins, took great risks to get close to the action.

Frank Hurley

Portrait of Captain Frank Hurley, O.B.E. Date and photographer unrecorded. Nla.pic-an24573624

Back in town I searched the on-line digital image collection of the National Library of Australia in Canberra, and soon discovered a black and white photograph by Frank Hurley of a panel of Aboriginal rock art — attributed only to the Carnarvon Range, Queensland, between 1910 and 1962. It was almost the exact image I had taken of a panel of rock art at The Tombs site at Mount Moffatt the week before. Further searching revealed a wonderful array of Hurley’s images of the sandstone highlands, many with people in them — on horse-back, in old vehicles, leaning over the edges of those sandstone cliffs, or leading horses through the cycad-covered grasslands on the very tops of the range.

Sandstone cliffs on the edge of the Consuelo Tableland, Carnarvon National Park..

Sandstone cliffs on the edge of the Consuelo Tableland, Carnarvon National Park. Photograph by Frank Hurley. Nla.pic-an23148861

I took some of the images to Brenda at her home near Injune in the central Queensland highlands, and asked if she recognised any of the people and places. “Well,” she started, “that’s me on my pony Cupie under Marlong Arch. My sister and I and two friends had come home from school, and Hurley asked us to ride under the arch while he photographed us.” As she looked through the photographs, Brenda named people, horses and locations — many of the images having been taken on Mount Moffatt station. Some included images of her father, Jim Waldron. Eventually we were able to lodge Brenda’s notes with the National Library, replacing the scant existing data for many of the images with specific names, dates and places.

Brenda Vincent, Marlong Arch, Mount Moffatt

Brenda Vincent, on her pony Cupie, under Marlong Arch, Mount Moffatt Station, about 1949. Photograph by Frank Hurley.NLA.pic-an23148550.

Riders among giant cycads on the Consuelo Tableland.

Riders on Consuelo Tableland, Mount Moffatt Station. Brenda's father Jim Waldron is at left. At more than 1000 metres above sea level, the area is often referred to as 'The Roof of Queensland'. Photograph by Frank Hurley. Nla.pic-an23148306

Hurley had taken these particular images in the last stage of his varied career. After the First World War, he produced films and documentaries in Australia and Papua New Guinea before returning to battlefields again in the Middle East during the Second World War. Back in Australia Hurley crossed the country, photographing the people and places he encountered. Hurley visited Mount Moffatt in October 1949 with a group that included the Director of Queensland Tourist Services and the Secretary of the Royal Automobile Club. Their trip to the top of the Consuelo Tableland, the ‘Roof of Queensland’, and back on pack horses was slow and fraught with danger. A. Donnelly, Mitchell Shire Clerk, described the trip in his report. “One packhorse slipped and fell, luckily a tree stopped him falling hundreds of feet … Captain Hurley was in great form as he focussed his camera on the amazing scenery. He was of the opinion that it could not be excelled by any other scenery in Australia”. Hurley’s images were published in several books, one of which Brenda produced. Her copy of Queensland, a Camera Study was signed by Hurley and contained a home-made Christmas card from the photographer to the Waldron family.

Frank Hurley's Christmas card.

Frank Hurley's Christmas card to Brenda Vincent's family.

Frank Hurley inspired many Australian photographers and film-makers. His work on documentaries shaped the approach of later film-makers. A fearless desire to get close to the action, no matter how dangerous, put him in that league of great photographers whose images reach out to viewers long after events have passed. His photographs of the sandstone highlands are also dramatic — each image speaks of an experienced photographer working with ease within the landscape, creating strong compositions and timeless portraits. Frank Hurley died in 1962. His footprints may have faded from the sands of Mount Moffatt, but his tracks remain for generations to follow through these, and many other, wonderful photographs.

Sandstone cliffs and natural grasslands, Marlong Plains, Mount Moffatt.

Sandstone cliffs and natural grasslands, Marlong Plains, Mount Moffatt. Photograph by Robert Ashdown.

Some day this almost inaccessible Lost World that is the Carnarvons will justify the words of Sir Thomas Mitchell — ‘A discovery worthy of the toils of pilgrimage.’ — Frank Hurley, ‘Queensland, A Camera Study’, 1950.

Adapted from an article originally written for the QPWS newsletter The Bush Telegraph. Hurley images courtesy of the National Library of Australia (NLA). To see more of Hurley’s images, visit the online collection of the NLA.

Return of the ancient mariner

Woman riding turtle at Mon Repos
Woman sits on a turtle at Mon Repos (?) Beach. Ca 1930. Photo State Library of Queensland. Photo ID: API-100-0001-002Much has changed since this scene was captured in the 1930s. Marine turtles have faced serious problems and experienced great declines in numbers in the last seven decades. However, awareness of the plight of turtles has increased, and conservation efforts have brought successes in both understanding of turtle biology and in ways to halt their decline. Mon Repos Conservation Park, near Bundaberg on the Queensland Coast, supports the largest concentration of nesting sea turtles on the east Australian mainland. Nesting turtles at Mon Repos include the loggerhead, flatback, and green. At the peak of a prime nesting season, 20 or more turtles a night (mostly loggerheads) come ashore to nest on this 1.5km long sandy beach.

Mon Reps beach, late afternoon.

This small beach at Mon Repos, near Bundaberg, supports the largest concentration of nesting sea turtles on the east Australian mainland. 

Loggerhead Turtle, Mon Repos beach.

A female Loggerhead Turtle hauls herself ashore late one stormy afternoon in December 2010. Photo R. Ashdown (QPWS).

Jupiter rising and the lights from Bagara, Mon Repos beach at night.

Jupiter rising and the lights from Bargara — Mon Repos beach at night. Photo R. Ashdown (QPWS). 

One of Australia’s most dedicated and successful conservation efforts has been based at Mon Repos. Decades of committed research by a small band of staff and volunteers has lead to a remarkable synthesis of research and public education. Access to the nesting beach at Mon Repos is controlled so that the turtles aren’t disturbed. However, people can still witness these ancient marine reptiles leaving the sea to nest as part of controlled groups led by experienced staff and volunteers from the Mon Repos Information Centre, run by the Queensland Parks and Wildlife Service (QPWS).

Mon Repos Information Centre

A QPWS ranger talks about marine turtles while people wait for their group to be called to the beach to see a turtle. Photo R. Ashdown (QPWS).

Nesting Loggerhead Turtle.

A group of turtle watchers, guided by a QPWS ranger, experiences an ancient ritual. The turtle is not disturbed by lights once she starts laying eggs in the nest she has dug in the sand. Photo R. Ashdown (QPWS).

Loggerhead Turtle returning to sea after laying eggs, Mon Repos beach.

The Loggerhead Turtle returns to the sea, watched by enthralled late-night observers. A sea turtle can be aged 30–50 before it begins to breed, and the breeding season might be once in only two to eight years. The hatchlings have a low chance of survival, with only one in 1000 possible reaching maturity. Sea turtles are very vulnerable to human disturbance, so while allowing the public to witness this event, the turtle’s well-being is of paramount importance. Photo R. Ashdown (QPWS).

Researchers with Premiere, Mon Repos.

A special turtle is checked by researchers at 3am. Premiere (K33061) was originally tagged as a hatchling at this beach in 1975. She is the first of the tagged Loggerhead hatchlings to be recorded returning to this beach as a breeding adult, and was recorded laying eggs on four occasions during November 2003 to January 2004. I was lucky enough to meet her here in December 2010. Photo R. Ashdown (QPWS). 

Loggerhead Turtle Premiere heads back to sea as the eastern sky lightens

Premiere heads back to sea as the eastern sky lightens. Slow and ungainly on land, it was not hard to sense her urgency in returning to the relative safety of the ocean. The more I meet reptiles, the more I like them — we share the planet with some mysterious and beautiful creatures. Photo R. Ashdown (QPWS).

Loggerhead Turtle Premiere heads back to sea.

Once the water broke over her, she regained her graceful power and quickly vanished — once more a thing of the vast ocean. Photo R. Ashdown (QPWS).

Turtle tracks on beach at dawn.

Dawn soon breaks, revealing the ephemeral tracks of ancient marine reptiles. Photo R. Ashdown (QPWS).

Links

Wrestling Carpet Pythons

Some great footage of two Carpet Pythons (Morelia spilota) wrestling. Recorded by Kim Anderson, Geham.

Carpet snakes wrestling (69Mb download)

Combat is widespread within elapid snakes and pythons in Australia. Richard Shine, in ‘Australian Snakes, A Natural History’ mentions that observers of male combat in snakes often interpret it as courtship or mating, rather than fighting.

The two combatants are coiled tightly around each other, move together very elegantly and sinuously and usually do not bite. This apparently affectionate behaviour, together with the difficulty of distinguishing the sexes, has led to some interesting stories connecting snake copulation with homosexuality. For example, one Hindu legend suggests that anyone who sees copulating snakes will be stricken with the ‘female disease’ (homosexuality) …

However, the ‘plaited’ appearance of fighting males is very different to the positions that snakes use  for courtship and mating. In these latter activities the female generally remains passive while the male moves around in a jerky, excited fashion. Females that want to avoid mating seem to escape fairly easily. After all, the male doesn’t have any arms or hands with which to hold her down!

Dragon on the edge

What’s this reptile peering warily from behind a eucalypt in a small bush reserve on the outskirts of Brisbane?

Dragon peering

A species of reptile that is very difficult to spot while on foot, as they are adept at moving to the opposite side of a tree to avoid detection by passing humans and other monsters. Photo R. Ashdown.

 

Frilled-neck Lizard

It’s a Frilled Lizard (Chlamydosaurus kingii), in a reserve on the outskirts of Brisbane. Here seen as spotted from inside a car. While still abundant across the northern parts of its range, Australia’s largest, and most recognisable lizard has all but vanished from its old haunts around Brisbane, mainly due to feral predators and habitat loss. Not to be confused with Bearded Dragons, still seen throughout the suburbs. Photo R. Ashdown.

Steve and Harry – dragon searchers.

Links

Bluetails after the flood

After the heavy summer rains an explosion of invertebrate life, from mozzies to butterflies, has been hard to miss. A recent walk along the headwaters of Toowoomba’s West Creek, a small waterway recently transformed into a raging torrent by flash flooding, reveals many dragonflies and damselflies. I spent some time with Harry photographing Common Bluetails — a colourful species of damselfly.

Common Bluetail (Ischnura heterosticta)

Common Bluetail (Ischnura heterosticta). Damselflies are primitive insects belonging to the order Odonata (a name that refers to the large teeth-like mandibles of both larva and adult). There are two suborders of Odonata in Australia — the damselflies and the dragonflies. Photo R. Ashdown.

Common Bluetail (Ischnura heterosticta)

Damselflies and dragonflies may look similar at first glance, but they are quite different. Damselflies are much more slender than dragonflies, and unlike dragonflies their forewings and hindwings are similar in shape and venation. Their wings are commonly held closed above the body, while dragonflies hold their wings spread out when at rest. Photo R. Ashdown.

Common Bluetail (Ischnura heterosticta)

Common Bluetail (Ischnura heterosticta)

The female stores sprem and later uses it fertlilse the eggs as they are laid.The female usually breaks away to lay eggs, but in some  species the couple stay in tandem as this occurs. Photo R. Ashdown. 

Common Bluetail (Ischnura heterosticta)

The egg and larval stage of the damselfly are aquatic. The larvae gradually form wings and the adults emerge to take to the skies. Adult damselflies live for one to three months. Photo R. Ashdown. 

Dragonflies, with their kaleidoscope of colours and incredible flying abilities, are one of the most eminently watchable kinds of animals, exhibiting fascinating behaviours.

Gunther Theischinger and John Hawking — ‘The Complete Field Guide to Dragonflies of Australia.’

Links

Glow-in-the-dark scorpions

The fluorescent nature of scorpions under ultraviolet light is well-known, most recently being featured in David Attenborough’s Life in the Undergrowth. Fluorescent chemicals in the cuticle* of the scorpion absorb ultraviolet light and reflect back a visible greenish light.

Black rock scorpion under UV light

A Black Rock Scorpion fluorescing under ultra-violet light. Scorpion fluorescence was apparently first noticed in 1956 when preserved specimens in alcohol were exposed to ‘black light’. Canon G10, 6 sec @f4, ISO200 +2. Photograph Robert and Harry Ashdown. 

I’d been wanting to photograph one ‘glowing’ for a while, so when friends Raelene and Kim captured one trying to get into their house, my chance arrived (having been reminded by Kim of this feature of the animal). I borrowed the scorpion and some UV lights from Kim (fellow torch and gadget enthusiast) and Harry and I set up some lights and camera gear on a desk at home. It was a warm night so the scorpion was very active, and given their 360° vision some patience and careful coaxing was required in order to get the animal to sit still long enough for an exposure of several seconds.

Black Rock Scorpion

A Black Rock Scorpion as it appears in ‘normal’ light. One of more than 43 described species of scorpion in Australia, none of which are deadly. In south-eastern Queensland scorpions are secretive animals with mild stings. Photograph Robert Ashdown.

Scorpions can apparently see the ultraviolet part of the spectrum that we cannot. Does the fact that their exoskeletons glow in ultraviolet light have some function for them, or is it just an incidental feature of scorpion chitin? David Attenborough, in Life in the Undergrowth, notes that since it is thought that a scorpion’s eyes can detect  fluorescence at night, perhaps the glow helps them locate mates or rivals. There has been continuing research and debate, into whether the fluorescence serves any purpose for scorpions. In a recent online discussion  Tim Flannery notes:

Professor Parks is an expert in this field, and he has conducted research showing that scorpion fluorescence is not very efficient. He also doubts that scorpion eyes function well in dim light, though here the data is less conclusive. If Professor Parks is correct, scorpions cannot detect their own fluorescence, which begs the question why scorpions fluoresce at all. Could it be a warning to potential predators with better night vision? Or is it an evolutionary oddity with no function at all? We are still learning the most astonishing things about animal communication, which leads me to wonder whether the mystery of the fluorescing scorpion is a tale for which the scientific world is not yet sufficiently prepared. 

* Cuticle: a multilayered, extracellular, external body covering, usually composed of fibrous molecules such as chitin or collagen, and sometimes strengthened by the deposition of minerals such as calcium carbonate.

Black Rock scorpion under UV light

Scorpions are marvelous creatures with a long and fascinating history — they were almost certainly the first animals of any kind to become completely terrestrial. They have up to six pairs of simple eyes distributed around their carapace, as well as a larger pair close to its back margin (it is hard to sneak up on them.) Their eyes can deal with direct sunlight as granules of pigment move over the surface of the eye, forming a screen when things get too bright. Photograph Robert and Harry Ashdown. 

Wild times at the bird bath

A birdbath is always an entertaining way to get a close look at your local birds, especially in summer. Some naturalists have even suggested that, given the recent prolonged drought, birdbaths may be of great importance for the survival of many avian species*. A constant source of water is always welcomed by backyard birds, especially in recent 30°C+ days.

Friends Raels and Kim have enjoyed watching a wide range of species visit their luxury birdbath in recent hot weather.

Sacred Kingfisher at birdbath

Sacred Kingfisher (Todiramphus sanctus) — who could ask for a better bird-bath visitor? Photo Kim Anderson.

Sacred Kingfishers at bird bath

Even better — a pair of kingfishers! The nearest bird still has its nictitating membrane across its eyes after emerging from the water. This a translucent membrane that can be drawn across the eye to protect it while allowing vision. Wonder why humans don’t have such a useful device? Hmm  … it appears we once did — the sliver of film in the inner corner of a human eye, known as a plica semilunaris is thought to be the vestigial remnant of a nictitating membrane. Photo Raelene Neilson.

Kim, being experienced in reinventing things for the better, decided to hack the software on his Canon Ixus 80IS (see CHDK link below) so that any movement would trigger the shutter. As it was raining he rigged this expensive and high-tech all-weather cereal-packet shield (available on special order for those who can afford it), then set it up at the bird-bath.

Kim and camera

Kim inspects the hacked Ixus and the high-tech rain-shield. Ready for action! Photo Robert Ashdown.

The results were magic. The camera captured a range of species enjoying the cool retreat of the shaded water. I’ve created a composite single image from about ten of the motion-triggered photos to give an idea of the activity that the bath attracts in a short period of time. This composite image shows Lewin’s Honeyeater, Yellow-faced Honeyeater, White-browed Scrubwren and a White-naped Honeyeater.

Bird-bath composite image

Composite image of a series of motion-triggered photos at the backyard birdbath. Composite of images by Kim Anderson.

Links

  • CHDK — Canon Hack Development Kit. This is a firmware enhancement that operates on a number of Canon Cameras. It provides additional functionality beyond that currently provided by the native camera firmware.
  • Trevor’s Birding — includes some great posts on birds and bird-baths.

*Wildlife Australia 2008 45-2

What is a tree?


Fig tree in mist, Ravensbourne NP

Harry, Max, James and fig tree, Ravensbourne National Park

What is a tree? Is a tree just a lump of wood crowned by leaves? A tree in truth with a nail in its side, beauty built out of air and stones – mellow in death, lively in spite of human foolishness. Trees adore wind and birds, sunlight and sweet air, kookaburras and crows, raindrops in quiet evenings. Nobody but a plant can dine so noiselessly, and on such strange foods as the invisible carbon of the air and the harsh minerals of the ground.

Nobody but a tree can grow so huge – not even whales and dinosaurs. Nobody but a plant has green blood to capture the energy of the sun. Trees have no blood banks to succour them after fire and mutilation, yet without the green stuff of their sap, there would be no redness in animal blood, no sun’s energy and no life for us who cannot dine on dust. A tree is a magic creature, whose ancestors are lost in the mists of time …

Len Webb (1963), Wildlife Australia, 1:3 p10

Face-to-face with Great Whites

South Australian authorities are battling wet weather in their search for the body of a man killed in a shark attack. It’s believed two great whites grabbed abalone diver Peter Clarkson as he was surfacing near Coffin Bay on the Eyre Peninsula yesterday. http://www.abc.net.au/worldtoday/content/2011/s3142709.htm

 

The tragic death of an abalone diver in South Australia this week has brought the spectre of shark attack back into the public consciousness. It has also re-ignited debate about the conservation of Great White Sharks, with some fisherman concerned that conservation measures will mean that numbers of this top-order predator increase, and along with it, attacks on humans. Conservationists and biologists, on the other hand, believe that shark numbers around the world are continuing to decline, with inevitable effects on marine ecosystems.

Great White Shark

Great White Sharks are majestic, and feared, ocean predators. While invincible in appearance, these animals are in decline. They are targeted commercially and by recreational fishermen throughout parts of the world for their valuable jaws and teeth. Their fins, like those of other sharks, are in high demand for soup. It is estimated there are fewer than 10,000 Great Whites in Australian waters, with South Australia recording a 94% drop in numbers in the decade from 1980. Photograph courtesy Marcel Steinmeier.

Great White Sharks

Great White Sharks (Carcharodon carcharias) are large, warm-blooded marine predators. Their maximum length is listed at 6.4 metres, although larger specimens have been reported. They are long-lived, and slow-maturing (12-18 years for females, 8-10 years for males). They reproduce only every two or three years, producing between two and ten pups per litter.

Great Whites are found throughout temperate and sub-tropical regions in the northern and southern hemispheres. They are most frequently found off Southern Australia, South Africa, northern California and the north-eastern United States. In Australian waters the Great White Shark’s range extends primarily from southern Queensland, around the southern coastline and to the North West Cape in Western Australia.

There appears to be a long-term decline in the numbers of Great White Sharks in Australian waters. Globally, there has been a reported decline of between 60-95% in numbers in the last fifty years. In 2002 the Australian Government listed the Great White Shark within the Convention on Migratory Species (CMS). The listing was important in leading towards conservation and management agreements between the range states for this shark. In 2004 the Australian Government, in cooperation with the Government of Madagascar, successfully listed the Great White Shark on Appendix II of the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Fauna and Flora (CITES). The listing aims to prevent the highly lucrative illegal trade in Great White Shark products such as teeth, jaws and fins. http://www.environment.gov.au/coasts/species/sharks/greatwhite/index.html

 

Diving with Great Whites

While there is still much public fear and misinformation about these predators, many people are working hard to present balanced views on the place of sharks in the ocean’s ecosystems. For some keen naturalists, getting the chance to safely come eye-to-eye with one of these powerful creatures is an opportunity not to be missed. Rod Hobson and Marcel Steinmeier describe their recent experiences viewing Great Whites with Rodney Fox Shark Expeditions in South Australia.

Rod Hobson

I recently achieved one of those milestones that we all set ourselves as keen natural historians; an Holy Grail as my herpetological buddy Steve Wilson puts it. From the 14-17th September I spent an unforgettable couple of days looking at Great White Sharks off the North Neptune Islands in South Australia. I was one of eight patrons on the “Princess 11” operated out of Port Lincoln by Rodney Fox Shark Expeditions. The eight of us were a mixed bag with the majority being purely divers. Only a visiting German diver Marcel Steinmeier, and I were true-blue animal freaks; but a merry company nevertheless especially as the Coopers flowed!

On our first morning outbound, the “Princess 11” was accompanied by large numbers of Great-winged Petrels with an occasional Yellow-nosed Albatross putting in an appearance. There might well have been other seabirds in the mix but we were buffeting a heavy sea and sharks were the objective; no time to dally over seabirds. I felt like an heretic, as I contented myself with the petrels and a vanguard of Common Dolpins (Delphinus delphis) on our bow.

On reaching the islands we moored in their lee in shelterd waters. These islands are home to large colonies of Australian Sea Lions (Neophoca cinerea). These are what attracts Great White Sharks to these waters. Within an half hour of anchoring the crew had lured in our first Great White using tuna offal suspended under a float. What a creature, and a moment that I’ll never forget. Awesome is a much abused word these days and I cringe when I hear it used so offhandedly but in some cases it’s an entirely appropriate adjective. Carcharodon carcharias is awesome. A remarkable animal, and this a moment that I’ll never forget.

Over the next two days we were to get great views of up to seven individual Great White Sharks including two large females over 4.5 metres in length. They are magnificent beasts especially when seen underwater and within a metre of your face mask. Fortunately there is a well constructed and strong ‘shark cage’ between you and the shark. I had two dives of 90 and 60 minutes each.

This is an unashamed plug for Rodney Fox Shark Expeditions. Their bread and butter is showing people one of the world’s greatest predators in its natural environment. And they know how to do it. The atmosphere on board is casual, the crew all very friendly and skilled and the food is exceptional, especially the fresh fish straight from ocean to plate in a couple of hours. And the beer is cold. What else do you need? Welcome aboard.

Great White Shark

A formidable set of dentures. Photograph courtesy Marcel Steinmeier.

Marcel Steinmeier

I have been interested in sharks for all my life. Since I have been diving I have been travelling the world to get to see these beautiful animals – Egypt, Maldives and various spots in Spain. When I booked the flight to Australia it was clear to me that I would have to take up the chance to go to Rodney Fox. And in my last week I finally made it. The boat and crew were great. The baits were already prepared and after five long hours we arrived at the Neptune Islands. The excitement was rising and after a short while there was the first white shark. Impressive! It took me the blink of an eye to prepare my camera and to put on the wetsuit.

The first dive was in the bottom cage. In my opinion the best way to watch them. Of course initially adrenaline was high! But then there was a really calm mood. The sharks were just there, surrounding the cage and watching you. They never seemed to be very aggressive and never attacked the cage. Andrew Fox and his crew did not try to make it as spectacular as possible. It is their goal to protect the sharks and to inform their guests about their way of life. There is no comparison to the pictures of cage diving that you know from South Africa. When you join a tour with Rodney Fox you can really learn a lot and spend a lot time in the cages. There is one at the surface that you can use all day long and the other one that will take you down to the bottom at least once a day. It is hard to describe what it feels like exactly.

White sharks do not even seem to make any efforts to get ahead. There is no hurry in their movements. They are elegant and majestic. I was just fascinated. It was a dream come true to be that close to an animal that survived millions of years in our oceans and now is one of the most endangered species because people are afraid of them and just do not know enough about them. I appreciate that there are people like Rodney and Andrew Fox who look after them.

Great White Shark

Much is still to be learned about Great White Sharks. In 2004, a female Great White Shark tagged in waters off South Africa traveled 20,000 kilometres to the coast of Australia and back again. Named Nicole, after actress Nicole Kidman, the shark changed long-held notions about how these animals moved through the world’s oceans. The journey was completed in just under nine months, the fastest return migration of any swimming marine organism known. Photograph courtesy Marcel Steinmeier.

More information on Great White Sharks

Thanks To Rod Hobson and Marcel Steinmeier.

Naming snails

The Jimbour Black Soil Snail (Jimbouria rodhobsoni) — one of 308 new species of land snail described in Australian Land Snails, Volume 1. A Field Guide to Eastern Australian Species, by John Stanisic, Michael Shea, Darryl Potter and Owen Griffiths. The Jimbour Black Soil Snail, named after Rod Hobson from the Queensland Parks and Wildlife Service (QPWS), is found in remnant native grasslands of the Darling Downs, in southern Queensland, Australia. Photograph courtesy of John Stanisic, Queensland Museum. 

Having a newly ‘discovered’ species of plant or animal named after you is something that any naturalist would be excited about. While the ‘common’ name for a species may vary over time and from place to place, a scientific name usually remains fixed and unchanging. Consisting of a two-part label (a genus name followed by a species name, in Latin or Greek), a scientific name can tell us something about the species, inform us of that species’ relationship to other species, reflect common names given to the animal by indigenous people or bear the names of people.

In the latter case, the names are often of people who have discovered the species, or who have worked in some related field of biology. This isn’t always the case though — Myrmekiaphila neilyoungi is a species of trapdoor spider described in 2007 by East Carolina University. It is named after Canadian rock musician Neil Young.  Cirolana mercuryi is a species of isopod found on coral reefs off Bawe Island, (Zanzibar, Tanzania) in East Africa and named for Freddie Mercury, “arguably Zanzibar’s most famous popular musician and singer”. Agathidium vaderi is a species of beetle named after Star Wars character Darth Vader, while Aegrotocatellus jaggeri is a species of trilobite bearing the name of British musician Mick Jagger (no such honour for Keith Richards, unfortunately). Closer to home, and to the subject of this post, Steve Irwin’s Treesnail, Crikey steveirwini, is a beautifully patterned snail named after the Australian naturalist, educator and conservationist Steve Irwin.

I have several naturalist friends who have already had species named after them — Angus Emmott from out Longreach way (Lerista emmotti — the Noonbah Robust Slider), and Steve Wilson (Strophurus wilsoni — a gecko from Western Australia). Recently, Queensland Parks and Wildlife Service (QPWS) colleague Rod Hobson joined them, with a new species of native snail now bearing his distinguished moniker.

The Jimbour Black Soil Snail (Jimbouria rodhobsoni) is one of 308 new species of eastern Australian snail named in a landmark book — Australian Land Snails, Volume 1, by John Stanisic, Michael Shea, Darryl Potter and Owen Griffiths. This book represents thirty years of work, and reflects a lifelong fascination for snails held by John Stanisic, Curator and Biodiversity Scientist at the Queensland Centre for Biodiversity, Queensland Museum.

Representing thirty years of work, this book describes 794 species of land snails from the eastern coast of Australia, as well as Lord Howe and Norfolk Islands. Volume 2 will describe species from the rest of Australia.

There are 44 families of land snail in eastern Australia, with approximately 794 species and 3 sub-species. These misunderstood native animals share an important role in the environment — they are indicators of environmental health, filling niches throughout Australia’s varied ecosystems. They are also fascinating animals, with many having striking and intricately patterned shells.

Land snails are an important group of invertebrate animals that can provide unique insights into the management and conservation of forests. In general, the distribution patterns of Australian land snails reflect the events that have forged the continent’s varied environments, in particular its wetter communities. The close association of land snails with rainforest means they are sensitive indicators of biological change, However, in many instances their existence is under threat. — John Stanisic and Darryl Potter, Wildlife of Greater Brisbane

Found on remnant native grassland on black soils plains in the area around Jimbour, on the Darling Downs, this snail is described as a ‘poorly known but distinctive animal’. It’s appropriate that this snail has been named after Rod, who collected the first specimen of this invertebrate from the Jimbour Town Common in October 2001. Rod has worked extensively on the Darling Downs grasslands — and, like the snail, he’s a distinctive character.

The remnant native grasslands of Jimbour, on the Darling Downs. Only about 1% of this original ecosystem remains intact, and supports a diverse array of plants and animals. Photo Robert Ashdown.

Once covering a vast area, the native grasslands of the Darling Downs have been greatly reduced since European settlement. Today, only about one percent of original grasslands remain — mostly within stock reserves, railway corridors and roadside verges. These remnant native grasslands are one of Queensland’s most endangered ecosystems. The black cracking clay soils that support these grasslands provide refuges and foraging habitat for many creatures, some threatened. It is an ecosystem that needs conservation and careful management.

Rod Hobson keeps an eye out for snails, or anything really, at Jimbour. Photograph Robert Ashdown.

As a Resource Ranger with QPWS, Rod has worked extensively on fauna surveys and conservation projects on the Darling Downs remnant grasslands. He has collected specimens for the Queensland Museum, and worked with great enthusiasm with locals on many practical conservation projects, such as with the endangered Grassland Earless Dragon. Although Rod hasn’t said much about ‘his’ snail, I’m sure he is excited that this ‘distinctive’ creature will carry his name. I’m also sure he’ll enjoy being part of a special club that includes not only Angus Emmott and Steve Wilson, but a host of other legendary scientists — and also Darth Vader, Neil Young and Mick Jagger! And, he’s a big fan of Keith Richards, so this might be the closest Keith gets to scientific immortality.

[Postscript 11/01/2011. Rod mentions that there are four other newly described species of snails in the book named after highly-regarded naturalist/ecologist friends of his — Adrian Caneris, Craig Eddie, Terry Reis and Mark Sanders.]

[Postscript 25/04/2022. A Guide to the Land Snails of Australia is to be published in July, 2022. For more info see here.]

The shell of the Jimbour Black Soil Snail (Jimbouria rodhobsoni). Photograph courtesy John Stanisic, Queensland Museum.

For more information on snails and the Darling Downs grasslands:

Urban Osprey

Young Osprey (Pandion haliaetus) fishing. Cornmeal Creek, Sunshine Coast. Photograph copyright Ross Naumann.

Photographer Ross Naumann has captured some superb images of two young Ospreys (Pandion haliaetus) fishing in a creek that runs through the middle of a large shopping complex at Maroochydore on the Sunshine Coast.

Ross reported that locals stopped to watch the raptors fishing in one of the Sunshine Coast’s busiest shopping precincts. The local papers carried a story on the birds and Ross’s wonderful photographs.

Photograph copyright Ross Naumann.

Photograph copyright Ross Naumann.

Photograph copyright Ross Naumann.

Such magnificent (and skillfully taken) images remind me how fortunate we are to be able to see ospreys so closely. This hasn’t always been the case around the world. Here’s an article I wrote about ospreys many years ago for a local wildlife newsletter.

Lasgair – the Fishing Pheonix

Osprey! We looked up from the shining water of Tingalpa Creek to see the bird moving towards us. A visiting wildlife photographer friend from Sweden, Ulf Westerberg, had expressed a wish to see some local birds, particularly ospreys, so we were off up the creek at high tide in mate Simon Grainger’s small tinny. To our astonishment, as the bird approached it suddenly folded its wings and dived straight at us. Despite having at least three cameras between us in the boat, all that moved was our jaws as they fell open in surprise. Talons outstretched, the bird rocketed directly toward us, bright yellow eyes clearly staring ahead. With a huge splash the osprey slammed into the water, no more than two metres from the boat, showering us with water. It then floated for several seconds, looking calmly at us, before hauling itself out of the water and flapping off. It had missed the fish, and was soon travelling away from us, looking left and right for other dinner chances in the water below. We burst into loud laughter and shouts of amazement. “Yes,” I’d said earlier “perhaps we just might see an osprey.”

We are fortunate to have such exciting birds sharing our local fish with us. Despite some persecution, they have not been threatened with extinction in Queensland. As I recently had the good fortune to be doing some raptor spotting in Scotland, I found out a little about the story of the osprey over there. It’s an incredible tale of despair and tragedy leading to unlikely success.

There are four sub-species of osprey distributed throughout the world. The Scottish osprey is a different sub-species from ours, but is very similar in appearance. Their Scottish name is Lasgair, which means ‘fisherman’. Scottish Ospreys migrate to Africa during the northern winter, returning to breed in spring. In the 1800s, ospreys were shot by landowners, and the ‘naturalist-hunters’ killed adult ospreys and took their eggs. There was a market for their skins (for display cabinets) and their blown eggs (for egg collections). Typical of the time was this effort by Lewis Dunbar:

On the 3rd May 1851, Dunbar arrived at Loch an Eilein, near Aviemore in Scotland. He had walked many miles through the night. Quickly, he slipped into the icy water and swam to a deserted castle on an island in the loch. As he climbed the castle, six inches of snow covering the ramparts slowed his progress. Eventually he reached the top, where there was an osprey sitting on eggs. Chasing away the bird, he grabbed the eggs and climbed back down. Dunbar then swam to the shore, an egg in each hand. There, he then blew the eggs, washed them out with whiskey, and eventually sold them to collectors.

As a result of events like this, ospreys became extinct in Ireland in 1800. In England, they vanished by 1842. By 1848, there were only 40 – 50 pairs left in Scotland. On 17 May of that year, two collectors, Charles St John and William Dunbar (Lewis’ brother), met at Loch an laig Aird, a known osprey nesting location. They arrived to see a female osprey in the nest. St John shot the female as she flew past. The male returned, and St John wrote, “he flew around, plainly turning his head to the right and to the left as if looking for her, and as if in astonishment at her unwonted absence.” As St John and Dunbar left with the two eggs and the body of the female, St John recalls, “the male bird unceasingly calling and seeking for her. I was really sorry I had shot her.”

Despite the efforts of beleaguered osprey fans at the time, 1916 saw the last pair nest in Scotland. They were not seen again after that year. I wonder how those few osprey protectors felt — their efforts had been to no apparent avail.

Fortunately, the story does not end there. In the 1950s, due to protection by bird fans, osprey numbers in Norway increased, and in 1953 a pair travelled from there to Loch Garten in Scotland. Osprey fans rallied, but egg collectors robbed the nest. The same thing happened during the next two years. In 1957, the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds organised volunteers to watch the nest around the clock, but one of the adults was shot travelling to the nest. In 1958, after a pair of ospreys arrived, Operation Osprey swung into action — just in time, as an egg collector was caught climbing the tree immediately after the female laid eggs. A team of volunteers worked around the clock, but on a dark and stormy night another thief climbed the tree and took the eggs. It caused headline news, and a tide of public sympathy began to flow in favour of the birds. The area was declared a sanctuary, which made it illegal to enter the land without permission. In 1959, a huge army of volunteers camped at the nest tree. Their efforts were successful — young were hatched, and the warden George Waterson took the brave and risky move of opening an observation post for the public. In the seven weeks until the young flew, 14,000 people flocked to catch a glimpse of these birds!

Today, the nature reserve at Loch Garten has been extended to 30,000 acres. Until 1991, 58 young were raised at this nest, but not without problems – the observation post was burnt down in 1991, and the nest tree has been attacked three times. The site has become famous. Press, radio and television report each year’s arrival of birds. Road signs declare that “ospreys have arrived” or “eggs laid!” In the last three decades, over one and a half million people have visited the site! Around the country, 836 young ospreys were raised to 1991. Once again, ospreys travel to Africa, and arrive back in Scotland to breed. The efforts of those original osprey protectors were actually never really in vain. Their actions influenced others, and as attitudes changed, many people were able to rise to the defence of these great birds when they finally returned to Scotland.

Jim Crumley, who has worked for most of his life protecting ospreys in Scotland, recalls those past times there when all was threatened by “the lunatic fringe of our species”. He writes:

There were the early days of through-the-night watches in a flimsy, leaky tent, armed with spotlight and megaphone to fend off intruders (they were used twice, and actually worked) … there was the otter which swam past my feet at 4am, and the barn owl which cruised out of a morning mist on a collision course for my head — we both took evasive action at about ten feet apart. And there is one unforgettable image of the female bird standing on her nest at sunrise, to stretch her wings and cast off accumulated night rain and dew. This she did with the blood-red sun at her back, so that she showered the eyrie-tree with shed drops of fire. No phoenix ever rose with more panache.

 

Photograph copyright Ross Naumann.

All images courtesy of, and copyright, Ross Naumann. Please respect the photographer and do not use images without permission.

Birds

Some recent bird images from friends Mike Peisley and Rob Mancini, plus a few of my own.

Cattle Egret (Ardea ibis). University of Southern Queensland wetlands. Photo Robert Ashdown.

Tawny Frogmouth (Podargus strigoides). Boondal Wetlands, Brisbane. Photo Mike Peisley.

Australasian Grebe (Tachybaptus novaehollandiae), with chick. Newport Lakes, Melbourne. Photograph Rob Mancini.

Plumed Whistling Duck (Dendrocygna eytoni). Wild bird at Fleays Wildlife Park, Burleigh. Photograph Robert Ashdown.

Ground Cuckoo-shrike (Coracina maxima). Near Gatton. Photograph Robert Ashdown.

Intermediate Egret (Ardea intermedia). Shorncliffe Pier. Photograph Mike Peisley.

Cattle Egret (Ardea ibis). University of Southern Queensland wetlands. Photo Robert Ashdown.

Dollarbird (Eurystomus orientalis) and Plum-headed Finch (Neochmia modesta). Near Gatton. Photograph Robert Ashdown.

Barking Owl (Ninox connivens). Captive animal, Fleays Wildlife Park, Burleigh. Photograph Robert Ashdown.

Summer singers

A Cherrynose Cicada (Macrotristria angularis), a spectacular, large Australian cicada. I had to capture this one to photograph it so closely, as the males are exceptionally wary when on trees. Its call is a tinkling and reverberating song. The ‘nose’ is actually a postclypeus, which has nothing to do with breathing — it houses the muscles for the feeding system. Photograph R. Ashdown.

Cicadas are amazing creatures. A long life as an underground-dwelling nymph is followed by a wonderful transformation to adult winged treetop dweller. At the moment the air is alive with the sounds of cicadas. As I write this a Clanger (Psaltoda claripennis) is rattling and clanging away on a jacaranda tree on the footpath. Come twilight, the sound of traffic is completely drowned out by the rumbling drone of the Bladder Cicada (Cystosoma saundersii). In nearby eucalypt woodlands the roar of Razor Grinders, Cherrynoses and Double Drummers is truly overpowering.

These are the loudest insects on the planet. The Green Grocer, Yellow Monday and the Double Drummer produce noise intensity greater than 120dB at close range — a sound approaching the pain threshold of the human ear. A large Razor Grinder in full song can cause permanent hearing loss if held close to the human ear (great idea, eh?).

Entomologist Chris Burwell from the Queensland Museum explains cicada song in Wildlife of Greater Brisbane. Designed to attract females, the song of the male cicada unfortunately alerts predators, particularly birds,  to its presence. As a result calling male cicadas usually take flight as soon as you approach them (making them quite hard to photgraph). Calling males often form huge groups, and there is evidence that this ‘wall of noise’ actually repels birds, because it is so painful to their ears!

Their interesting songs, striking appearance and sudden summer arrival (including their mysterious abandoned nymph cases) has brought these harmless insects lots of fans. As a child I marveled over the images of emerging cicadas by the astonishing Densey Clyne, and as a photographer always enjoyed trying to capture them on film – which can be quite challenging. Photographing the emergence of adults from the nymph stage is always fun. This happens under cover of night (although some species will emerge during the day).

While walking at Ravensboune National Park recently we stumbled upon this emerging adult cicada. After watching it for a while we concluded that it was stuck, and had been so for a few hours. Putting aside my ‘don’t interfere with nature’ rule  for a moment, I moved the insect up so that it could grab the branch. Over the next 20 minutes we were transfixed by the entire process — with unfolding wings and the changing body colour, a fascinating transformation.

While walking at Ravensbourne National Park we came across this large emerging cicada. After watching it struggle without result for  a fair while we concluded that it was completely stuck, so we intervened, carefully tilting it up so that it could grab the trunk. Photograph R. Ashdown.

Within ten minutes the cicada’s wings were unfolding and its body colour was changing. This is the third and final stage of the cicada’s life. After emerging from an egg, the nymph climbs down to the soil and spends six or seven years underground. Cicada expert Dr Max Moulds has said that their underground sojourn can take anything from nine months to 17 years or more depending on the species. Photo R. Ashdown.

The cicada’s wings are unfolding as fluid is pumped through the veins. The delicate structures will need to harden before flight can be successful. It is usually several days before the cicada starts singing. Photo R. Ashdown.

The wings are moving with the breeze. By the next day I hope it was joining the raucous and joyful chorus with its mates — such an Australian bush sound. Photo R. Ashdown.

Ecologist Greg Ford has just sent me this wonderful image of an adult Double Drummer (Thopha saccata), photographed at Crows Nest National Park. I’d hazard a guess that our young cicada is one of these — the patterns certainly match, and its colour would have darkened during the day. Photograph courtesy Greg Ford.

Another place, another stunning cicada. This nymph has emerged during rain at Amity, on Stradbroke Island, using a verandah railing as the perfect emergence spot. I back-lit this one with a torch to bring out the delicate wing details. Photo R. Ashdown.

Shimmering new blue wings. Photo R. Ashdown.

For lots of information about cicadas, see the wonderful web work of Lindsay Popple.

Here are some other great links for information about cicadas:

Spiders in the rain

The recent record rainfall and flooding in south-eastern Queensland (2010) has had a huge impact on many people, with towns everywhere still surrounded by floodwaters.

Although our backyard in Toowoomba has thankfully not gone underwater, its dust-bowl appearance has been replaced with a more Tropical theme — the place is a steaming jungle of vines, weeds and tall grass, the hum of cicadas at dusk broken by the calls of howler monkeys, the fog pierced only by the glimmer of the neighbour’s Christmas lights.

Butterflies and dragonflies are cruising through the backyard, as the heat and sunshine powers an explosion in invertebrate life. Some wandering invertebrates have, to some people, been quite unwelcome.

A female Tube Trapdoor Spider, dug out of a burrow in our backyard several years ago by my inquisitive son. A beautiful spider, with golden hairs on the carapace that distinguish this species from those of the true trapdoor group. Photo R. Ashdown.

My son first discovered Tube Trapdoor Spiders living in our backyard a few years back after digging up one of their burrows. We’ve noticed their burrows again in the backyard after the rain – perhaps their burrows are waterlogged and they have to move.

A Tube Trapdoor spider in a very muddy and water-logged burrow in our front yard after recent rain. The silk-lined burrow, which is built with an open entrance, may be lined with dead leaves and can even extend above the ground. Photo R. Ashdown.

Another view of this striking animal. There are several species of brown tube spiders, found throughout coastal eastern Australia from Tasmania and South Australia to Cape Tribulation. Photo R. Ashdown.

Robert Raven from the Queensland Museum believes that the Toowoomba tube trapdoor found in our yard is a member of the genus Misgolas. Identifying spiders to the species level is no easy task,  as spider taxonomy is constantly being revised, with new species discovered and existing relationships reviewed.

Although they may look a bit fierce, no bites have been recorded from these spiders and they are not considered dangerous.

Another spider that Toowoomba residents encounter in summer after rain is definitely dangerous — the Toowoomba Funnelweb (Hadronyche infensa). We haven’t seen any of these spiders in our backyard, but they are found around the eastern edges of the city’s escarpment. This is actually the most common of the four Funnelweb species in Queensland.

Our very own Funnelweb. Named after my hometown, the Toowoomba Funnelweb (Hadronyche infensa) is one of four species of Funnelweb found in Queensland. The Northern Rivers Funnelweb (Hadronyche formidabilis) builds its burrow on trees. Photo R. Ashdown.

Funnelwebs hunt and mate at night. With rain and heat, male Funnelwebs shed their skins inside their burrows  and wander in search of females. This is when they may take a wrong turn and end up in houses. At dawn they seek shelter under logs and amongst clumps of leaves — where they are sometimes encountered by gardeners.

A recent newspaper article quotes Mary Rayner, the General Manager of the Australian Reptile Park on the New South Wales central coast. Ms Rayner said that members of the public had dropped off higher numbers of Funnelweb Spiders this summer. “We usually catch about 300 a year, but we’ve had 100 so far and that is very unusual for this time of year.”

Funnelwebs are one of the world’s most dangerous spiders, with 14 deaths attributed to bites before an antivenom was developed in 1981. All deaths were from male spiders and were in New South Wales. While their venom is deadly to humans,  it is harmless to dogs and cats. There are still occasional bites to people in Queensland, with a recent case from Newmarket in Brisbane.

Don’t try this at home – I photographed this Tooowoomba Funnelweb with care. The Queensland Museum reports that “Often, with very little provocation, Funnelwebs will rise into the defensive pose with a drop of highly toxic venom hanging off each fang.” Apparently one drop is enough to kill an adult human, although much of the venom is often absorbed in clothes during bites. They certainly have a lot of character! Photo R. Ashdown.

Identification of large, dark spiders is very difficult, as the features of the animal have to be carefully examined — not recommended unless you are a spider expert. Unfortunately, many large, harmless spiders are killed in the mistaken belief that they are Funnelwebs.

Not every black spider is a Funnelweb. This Red-headed Mouse Spider (Missulena occcatoria) was photographed at Isla Gorge National Park. Found across semi-arid Australia, the patterns of this colourful spider may act both as a warning and disruptive colouration, deterring some predators while allowing the animal to blend into the sharply shadowed background. Photo R. Ashdown and R. Mancini.

While preparing this blog posting, and thinking about spiders, I encountered a large black spider wandering across the Toowoomba bush path on which I was walking. Unfortunately I had nothing to capture it in (pockets not really an option), so I had to resort to a few photos from my dodgy mobile phone. Naturalist mate Rod Hobson has taken a look at the photos and, given that these critters extremely difficult to identify from photographs, reckons it is probably a female Funnelweb, although he cannot say whether it is a Toowoomba Funnelweb or a Northern Rivers Funnelweb.

Out for a New Year’s stroll. While walking a track at Mt Lofty, Toowoomba, I bump into a fellow wandering local — a possible female Funnelweb. I say possible because these spiders are hard to identify without a close examination, and a grumpy, warmed-up spider is best admired from a distance. Not a great idea to have one of these attached to your finger on a Public Holiday. Photo R. Ashdown.

There are all sorts of urban myths about spiders, particularly Funnelwebs. For a wealth of accurate information about this, and many other, species of spider head to the excellent information pages on the Queensland Museum’s website.

LINKS

Shearwater wreck

Point Lookout

Point Lookout, North Stradbroke Island. At 38km long and 12km at its widest point, “Straddie” is the second largest sand island in the world. A diverse range of habitats on the island support a rich variety of fauna and flora.

Migratory birds seek perpetual summer. However, this is at the cost of repeated punishing ordeals which many of them do not survive. Now they prepared to take wing, not as raptors, gliding are carried on the high, warm currents of the great thermals but as small migrants, storm baffled, frozen, forced down towards demented waves, must pit themselves – perpetually – against nature. Caroline Lassalle, ‘Breaking the Rules’

Mark Simmons and I recently made an all-too-brief working visit to North Stradbroke Island. Driving the beach we noticed many Short-tailed Shearwaters (Ardenna tenuirostris), aka Muttonbirds, washed up dead on the beach.

Local naturalist Michael Hines has been observing this event, and along with Dave Stewart from the Queensland Parks and Wildlife Service, has been interested in estimates of dead bird numbers, and seeking out information on the causes. Stradbroke photographer Glen Caruthers counted 1 carcass every 5 metres for at least 5km, and believed that the final number must have been considerable.

Short-tailed Shearwater

A beach-washed Short-tailed Shearwater, one of many on North Stradbroke Island’s surf beach.

Shearwaters have been turning up dead on many beaches down the east coast of Australia this month, even appearing on Sydney’s beaches. So what’s going on?

The Short-tailed Shearwater is a migratory species. There are an estimated 23 million of these birds, many of which breed on Australian islands in the warmer months. Between June and August the adults and young birds head roughly 9,000km north to feed in the North Pacific Ocean and Bering Sea. The route they take north and south has long been the subject of debate.

The regular passage of these birds back south along the east coast of Australia between October and January is spectacular, and in some years (such as this one), many perish and wash up on beaches. Such an event is known in bird circles as a ‘wreck’. The reasons for wrecks have been discussed at length, but it’s generally agreed that starvation and exhaustion, and the influence of storms and other adverse weather, are the causes.

Here’s what Birds Australia has to say on this latest ‘wreck’:

If the sight of a shearwater washed up on the sand of a deserted beach is a forlorn one, the sight of hundreds of dusky, beachcast ‘muttonbird’ corpses is truly bleak.  In the past week or two, large numbers of dead Short-tailed Shearwaters have been reported washing up on a number of beaches in south-eastern Australia, along the coast from South West Rocks south to Nowra on the South Coast of New South Wales at least to Torquay on Victoria’s Surf Coast, with especially large numbers washed up on Wilsons Promontory, and doubtless elsewhere.

This type of event, known as a wreck, occurs periodically, usually in October or early November, soon after the birds have returned to Australian waters on their migration back from the northern Pacific Ocean. By the time they arrive back in Australia, the shearwaters have usually expended most of their energy reserves on the journey. When they reach south-eastern Australia, sometimes they encounter unusual sea-surface temperatures which may affect the availability of their main sources of prey, preventing them from foraging, and they become exhausted. If there are also adverse weather conditions at the same time, such as the southerly gales we experienced a week or two ago, many are unable to deal with the rough conditions due to their fatigue, and large numbers die and are washed up. Sometimes live birds are also washed up, and are too weak to head back out to sea.  (Shearwaters regularly cope with such gales when they are out at sea, but they are unable to survive their effects when they are starving and exhausted.)

The phenomenon of the shearwater wreck has been known since the 1850s, and they happen periodically. There was a major wreck in November last year, when tens of thousands of shearwaters were strewn along the coasts New South Wales, Victoria and Tasmania, and there was also another one in late October 2000.  There is nothing we can do to avert such catastrophes.

People who find dead shearwaters on the beach should check their legs for numbered metal bands, and all such finds should be reported to the Australian Bird and Bat Banding Scheme.  The information researchers can gain from this is crucial to building up a picture of the species’ biology and ecology.

A paper published in 2001 looks at ‘wrecks’ that occurred in the northern hemisphere in the late 90s, and discusses the fine balance between energy expended on these long flights and the need to find food during the flight and upon arrival at their destination or stopping-off points. Seasonal and annual variation in prey densities is thought to have an large effect on the birds during their migrations. [Thanks to Michael Hines for this link].

Brahminy Kite

A Brahminy Kite close to the bodies of three Shearwaters.

On Stradbroke we were just wondering whether the local raptors would be taking advantage of this protein bonanza, when we noticed a Brahminy Kite feeding on them. We soon saw a White-bellied Sea Eeagle actually carrying off a dead Shearwater.

White-bellied Sea Eagle

A White-bellied Sea Eagle carrying off a Shearwater carcass.

White-bellied Sea Eagle

Clearly the dead Shearwaters are a protein bonanza for raptors. There were also local reports of foxes consuming the dead birds.

Another interesting beach-washed bird was a Northern Giant Petrel (Macronectes halli).

Petrel

Beach-washed Northern Giant Petrel, a bird that breeds in the sub-Antarctic islands.

 

Stradbroke Island

Stradbroke Island is a spectacular place, with locals and visitors alike transfixed by the place’s beauty and abundant wildlife.

Acknowledgement of Country

Minjerribah (North Stradbroke Island) is home to the Nunagal and Goenbal clans who, together with the Ngugi of Mulgumpin (Moreton Island), are the Quandamooka people.

The Quandamooka people are the Traditional Owners of these islands and their waters. They have a rich traditional and living culture and a strong, ongoing connection to Country.

The Quandamooka people’s continued occupation of Minjerribah dates to more than 20,000 years ago.

Peregrine encounter

Colleague (and excellent photographer) Karen Smith writes of a close encounter with a most majestic bird at Sundown National Park in southern Queensland.

Experienced a once-in-a-lifetime moment last week at Red Rock Gorge when treated to the sights and sounds of a Peregrine Falcon learning to fly.

Unsure of its wings, the first-time flyer first landed firmly on a flat rock not far below the lookout. Amid a flurry of feathers and loud screeches it took off again only to return to land sideways on the trunk of a small tree — where it clung for dear life. Off again and out over the gorge, but still unsure it returned this time to land precariously on a vertical cliff face a little higher up. Frightened and wary of its next move, another attempt was made, resulting in it taking up a tree top post directly below us. And there it stayed, calling loudly at regular intervals. After a time, the sound of mum coming to give support was heard.

Wish I’d had Ashdown’s camera (and skill) because she landed for a short time on the railing of the upper section of the lookout (obviously a regular haunt). Realising we were there she took off in a hurry to land in the tree below her struggling offspring. And there they both stayed, calling to each other. We watched for a while, but with no further action and the day getting shorter we reluctantly had to leave.

I’ve been “bombed” by Peregrines at Main Range and watched birds dart for cover at home as these super-efficient predators come circling overhead, but never before seen something like this. Doubt I will ever experience it again.

Red Rock Falls, Sundown National Park. This outcrop of Ruby Creek Granite is a spectacular feature of this wild park. Photo Karen Smith.

Bound for the skies but clinging to rock for a bit longer — young Peregrine on first flights. Photo Karen Smith.

In the treetops after another attempt. Young Peregrines remain in the nest for 38 to 40 days, then are dependent on parents for up to three months. Photo Karen Smith.

Juvenile Peregrine Falcons can remain in the nest area for up to eight months, after which they disperse widely — usually about 60km for males and 130km for females. Photo Karen Smith.

The steely gaze of a parent Peregrine, shortly before realising that humans were also using the lookout. Photo Karen Smith.