Magpie parent with a worm for the babies. All photos: Linda Cuttriss
By Linda Cuttriss
IT WAS late afternoon in early spring and the paddocks across the bay were gleaming green. ‘Whales!’ I heard my partner call. Dozens of seabirds, probably terns, were dive-bombing the water a few hundred metres offshore, but as usual I could see no whales. ‘Where?’ I cried out. Then I spotted them. A blow of spray, then another further away. The pair of whales must have been feeding too, for they stayed for ages, barely breaching the surface for a sip of air before disappearing then reappearing a short while later with another blow of spray.
As I watched the whales, a pair of magpies charged back and forth from their nest high up in a she-oak tree, sailing over the edge of the bluff and returning with bugs and worms in their beaks. Mama magpie had been on the nest for almost three weeks so the babies must have hatched.
IT WAS late afternoon in early spring and the paddocks across the bay were gleaming green. ‘Whales!’ I heard my partner call. Dozens of seabirds, probably terns, were dive-bombing the water a few hundred metres offshore, but as usual I could see no whales. ‘Where?’ I cried out. Then I spotted them. A blow of spray, then another further away. The pair of whales must have been feeding too, for they stayed for ages, barely breaching the surface for a sip of air before disappearing then reappearing a short while later with another blow of spray.
As I watched the whales, a pair of magpies charged back and forth from their nest high up in a she-oak tree, sailing over the edge of the bluff and returning with bugs and worms in their beaks. Mama magpie had been on the nest for almost three weeks so the babies must have hatched.
A pair of swallows keeps darting by with yet another feather or piece of dry grass to add to the little mud nest they are building. They have chosen to build in the nook above the back door again this year but I am not sure it’s such a great choice. It is sheltered from the wind and rain but they are disturbed every time we open the door.
| Spring brings a sense of excitement as the natural world shakes off winter and the season of rebirth begins. The paperbark tea-trees that line the roadsides are filled with creamy flower puffs. Coast tea-trees down near the beaches are covered with thick clusters of white blossoms. In the banksias behind the dunes, new nectary flower spikes are forming. Wattlebirds chase each other from tree to tree, currawongs call out in croaking shouts and fantails twitter and chatter as they flit from branch to branch. Fan-tailed cuckoos have arrived again and their plaintive trilling carries on all day long. I worry for the singing honeyeaters and brown thornbills in the neighbourhood as the cuckoos will soon be looking for a nest to steal. In the late afternoon, birds of prey get no peace when circling the sky trying to spy a final feed for the day. Ravens, masked lapwings, magpies and even pied oystercatchers chase after them, shrieking and shouting, hassling them to stay away. On my way down the driveway, wallabies stop and stare before turning and bounding away. They stop just long enough for me to see at least two of them have a joey peeking out of their pouches. I’m excited to see shallow scrapings of soil around the place where an echidna has been catching up on meals missed during winter hibernation. One sunny afternoon, I spot a ball of spines tucked amongst the undergrowth alongside the path. At first, I think the echidna has heard me and is balled up for protection but then I realise he is moving, pushing into a clump of bower spinach, digging in with his flat front claws, headbutting the ground and sucking up ants with his pointy snout while flicking soil behind him with his backwards hind feet. He briefly comes up for air, turns his head to the side and I try not to laugh at how funny he looks with dirt all over his face. A moment later he is back at it, bulldozing his way through the rushes and sedges, leaving little excavations in his wake. |     |
It has been a wet year and the farm dams and wetlands have filled to the brim. The sounds of so many frogs ringing out made me realise I didn’t know which species they were, so I found the FrogID app and went down to our dam, to our neighbour’s artificial wetland and to Swan Lake and recorded the sounds. To my great delight, a few days later an email arrived from the FrogID team verifying my recordings.
In each place was the pobblebonk (eastern banjo frog) whose familiar ‘bonk’ ‘bonk’ we often hear after rain and there was also the eastern common froglet whose ‘crick’ ‘crick’ ‘crick’ call sounds a bit like a chirping cricket. They are both common species but with many frogs under threat from habitat loss, disease and climate change any data collected helps scientists understand more about their distribution and helps with their conservation.
In each place was the pobblebonk (eastern banjo frog) whose familiar ‘bonk’ ‘bonk’ we often hear after rain and there was also the eastern common froglet whose ‘crick’ ‘crick’ ‘crick’ call sounds a bit like a chirping cricket. They are both common species but with many frogs under threat from habitat loss, disease and climate change any data collected helps scientists understand more about their distribution and helps with their conservation.
  | Down at Swan Lake, a fluffy cygnet swims close behind its mother as she hugs close to the bushes near the water’s edge. A large male swan standing on the bank watches them approach then takes several ungainly steps into the water, glides over to the cygnet and nudges it gently. The threesome keeps a tight formation, adults preening and feeding while baby tucks its head beneath its wing and has a little snooze. A wedge-tailed eagle circles high above, further across the lake. On Summerland Peninsula, dozens of families of cape barren geese are grazing by the roadside. Some of the young ones are almost as big as their parents, some are still tiny striped puff-balls. On South Coast Road a pair of gangly grey goslings is bathing in a puddle while their parents stand by with a watchful eye. The little ones step out of their bath, stretch up tall, shake their stumpy half-formed wings then mother goose steps in for her turn while father has a preen. |
On the first Saturday in October, a strong northerly had been blowing all day but by evening the wind had dropped giving way to a warm balmy evening. After dark we went outside to watch the big moon rise and were struck by loud waves of raucous cackling rising up from the rookery below our house. There was a party going on down there. The shearwaters had arrived.
The birds have been busy every night since then, staying up late and getting up well before dawn.
The birds have been busy every night since then, staying up late and getting up well before dawn.
Short-tailed shearwater at home in the bower spinach after its long migration
The shearwaters don’t just get up and go. It takes an hour or two for all of them to wake up and do what they do before setting out to sea for the day. By the time they are ready to go their guttural croons and wails reach fever pitch in a loud cacophony of sound. I love listening to the commotion softly fade away as first light sneaks into my room and hold my breath for the next section of the morning symphony, when the magpie’s carolling announces the new day.
The swallow is now sitting on her eggs, her tiny head just visible above the little mud wall of her nest at the back door. Three baby magpies have fledged and now follow their parents for most of the day, their carping sound never far away.
When Spring first arrived, we felt her warmth on our bodies and smiled. She uplifted our spirits, renewed our optimism. We shared the good feeling with friends and family, smiled at strangers in the street. Since then we have felt the force of winds from every direction, blowing us all about. We have heard rain on the rooftop, watched it flood the paddocks and roads. There has even been thunder and lightning.
Summery weather is now sneaking in as Springtime draws to a close. Grasses are tall and thick with seed. Snakes are out and about. Dragonflies helicopter through the air. Three little swallows peek their heads above the nest at the back door, tweeting frantically and opening their beaks wide every time a parent arrives. In between feeds the three baby magpies peck softly at the ground but still haven’t quite got the knack of picking up a snack.
The nights are quiet. The shearwaters have renovated their burrows, have mated with their partners and flown to Antarctica for a fortnight’s honeymoon. Soon they will return to incubate their eggs and a new burst of life will begin.
Spring is a time of colour, drama and change. Spring is Nature’s Showtime. A time to celebrate Life!
The swallow is now sitting on her eggs, her tiny head just visible above the little mud wall of her nest at the back door. Three baby magpies have fledged and now follow their parents for most of the day, their carping sound never far away.
When Spring first arrived, we felt her warmth on our bodies and smiled. She uplifted our spirits, renewed our optimism. We shared the good feeling with friends and family, smiled at strangers in the street. Since then we have felt the force of winds from every direction, blowing us all about. We have heard rain on the rooftop, watched it flood the paddocks and roads. There has even been thunder and lightning.
Summery weather is now sneaking in as Springtime draws to a close. Grasses are tall and thick with seed. Snakes are out and about. Dragonflies helicopter through the air. Three little swallows peek their heads above the nest at the back door, tweeting frantically and opening their beaks wide every time a parent arrives. In between feeds the three baby magpies peck softly at the ground but still haven’t quite got the knack of picking up a snack.
The nights are quiet. The shearwaters have renovated their burrows, have mated with their partners and flown to Antarctica for a fortnight’s honeymoon. Soon they will return to incubate their eggs and a new burst of life will begin.
Spring is a time of colour, drama and change. Spring is Nature’s Showtime. A time to celebrate Life!