The fan-tailed cuckoo ... A charming visitor with a sweet song who cons the locals. Photos: Gayle Marien By Gayle Marien
THERE was a time I thought the cuckoo was a European bird, but Australia has its share of these cunning tricksters. I first glimpsed a fan-tailed cuckoo amongst the eucalypt trees in the Wonthaggi Wetlands Conservation Park in October last year.
Its unusual colouring caught my eye. The cuckoo had a slate-grey head, back, and wings, a soft orange-cinnamon breast and belly, a tail with black and white bars, and yellow-rimmed eyes. It had a melodic call, somewhat of a trill, and I was treated to a performance at close quarters. My camera was working overtime.
I could barely wait to get home to identify and research the bird. I was surprised to learn it was a cuckoo and intrigued that something so elegant had a sinister side.
THERE was a time I thought the cuckoo was a European bird, but Australia has its share of these cunning tricksters. I first glimpsed a fan-tailed cuckoo amongst the eucalypt trees in the Wonthaggi Wetlands Conservation Park in October last year.
Its unusual colouring caught my eye. The cuckoo had a slate-grey head, back, and wings, a soft orange-cinnamon breast and belly, a tail with black and white bars, and yellow-rimmed eyes. It had a melodic call, somewhat of a trill, and I was treated to a performance at close quarters. My camera was working overtime.
I could barely wait to get home to identify and research the bird. I was surprised to learn it was a cuckoo and intrigued that something so elegant had a sinister side.
Like all cuckoos, the fan-tailed cuckoo lays its egg in the nests of other birds, leaving the unsuspecting hosts to care for the chick as their own. But not any nest will do. It lurks in the trees on the lookout for a dome-shaped nest close to the ground and often chooses those of fairy wrens, scrub wrens and especially brown thornbills. What an exhausting job the tiny host birds have! At around 25 cm long, the fan-tailed cuckoo is twice their size.
It isn’t just the absentee parents who take part in this grand deception; their chick is born with a ruthless streak. The baby cuckoo’s first act after hatching is to eject the host bird’s eggs or hatchlings from the nest – a cruel strategy, but one that secures its survival.
That first sighting was nearly a year ago, and I’ve since discovered the bird and I share a dislike of the winter cold. The fan-tailed cuckoo is migratory. Here on the Bass Coast, we see them in spring and summer.
I was thrilled when one perched on our pergola just a couple of days ago; its orange-cinnamon breast made richer by the setting sun. But I couldn’t help wondering: are the birds nesting in our hedge the overworked foster parents? Perhaps the white-browed scrub wren that forages in the leaf litter. Or the brown thornbill tucked away amongst the lilly pilly leaves.
It isn’t just the absentee parents who take part in this grand deception; their chick is born with a ruthless streak. The baby cuckoo’s first act after hatching is to eject the host bird’s eggs or hatchlings from the nest – a cruel strategy, but one that secures its survival.
That first sighting was nearly a year ago, and I’ve since discovered the bird and I share a dislike of the winter cold. The fan-tailed cuckoo is migratory. Here on the Bass Coast, we see them in spring and summer.
I was thrilled when one perched on our pergola just a couple of days ago; its orange-cinnamon breast made richer by the setting sun. But I couldn’t help wondering: are the birds nesting in our hedge the overworked foster parents? Perhaps the white-browed scrub wren that forages in the leaf litter. Or the brown thornbill tucked away amongst the lilly pilly leaves.
