• *Pic: BBC: Cockatoo identified in 13th Century European book
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Line drawing of yellow wattlebirds: John Gould
The documentary David Attenborough’s Tasmania certainly shone a bright light on Tasmania’s unique wildlife when it screened on the ABC at peak time earlier month. Birdwatchers, though, were disappointed the program made scant reference to the state’s birdlife. The mercurial Tasmanian devil might have Hollywood film star status but when extolling the virtues of our wildlife it’s worth noting that along with endemic mammals we also have 12 species of bird found nowhere else on earth. With this in mind Don Knowler, who writes the On the Wing column in the Mercury, has created a special section on his blog, www.donaldknowler.com , describing our unique species. The following is the introduction.
First published June 25
The internationally acclaimed Museum of Old and New Art in Hobart was declared “wild and wacky” when it first opened and the same description can be applied to Tasmania’s birds. Where else would you find the “turbo chook” and the “chuck bird”?
Most if not all of Tasmania’s endemic species would sit well as exhibits at Mona, if not just for their curiosity, for their sublime beauty. David Attenborough might in earlier programs have found his birds of paradise in Papua New Guinea, but Tasmanians boast of one of their own – the shy and gentle green rosella, a parrot mixing greens of various shades, yellows and blues, plus a splash of red in its plumage. In the high country of the state, it’s called the mountain parrot.
Tasmania is a popular destination for both international and Australian mainland birdwatchers because it has these unique 12 species – the largest number for any comparable area of Australia – and what is remarkable is that 11 of them can be found within the Hobart municipality, and the twelfth, the forty-spotted pardalote, a short distance away on Bruny Island.
Each of these species is enmeshed in Tasmanian folklore, born of their exclusivity to the island, of time and place. They perch along the long and winding road to not only Tasmania’s settler history – just 200 years of it – but to the Aboriginal past spanning the millennia.
The 12 endemic species are: Tasmanian native-hen, green rosella, dusky robin, Tasmanian thornbill, scrubtit, Tasmanian scrubwren, yellow wattlebird, yellow-throated honeyeater, black-headed honeyeater, strong-billed honeyeater, black currawong, and forty-spotted pardalote.
An ideal itinerary for a Tasmanian bird tour can start within walking distance of Hobart’s central business district, at the Queens Domain. Its extensive areas of dry woodland blend with the grounds of the Royal Tasmanian Botanic Gardens at its eastern end.
My own favourite birding area in Hobart, however, is the Waterworks Reserve. Entering the Waterworks, I have often seen the dusky robin, perched on the Victorian sandstone posts holding the reserve’s wrought-iron gates.
The entrance to the reserve also proves popular with two of the four honeyeaters only found in Tasmania, the yellow-throated and black-headed honeyeater. Both species are largely canopy feeders and they delight in hunting insects in the upper reaches of the mature blue gums within the first 50 metres or so of the reserve.
Birds can often to be difficult to see and identify in the canopy but the far-carrying calls of these honeyeaters draw attention to them. The yellowthroat has a musical, chattering call and the black-headed honeyeater an insistent “piping”. The black-headed honeyeater travels in loose flocks and within these it is worth checking on individual birds because strong-billed honeyeaters are often found among these parties. The strong-bill is more likely to be found prising bark from the trunks and thicker branches of eucalypts and wattles, in the search for burrowing insects.
The fourth honeyeater found only in Tasmania, the yellow wattlebird, at up to 50cm, is the biggest and perhaps most dramatic of members of the extensive honeyeater family.
The wattlebird has a guttural, raucous call which in some bird books is described as sounding like someone retching or throwing up. Hence the name of “chuck bird”.
Among colloquial names, “turbo chook” applies to the Tasmanian native hen. It is flightless and makes up for its lack of air power with a surprising turn of speed.
This member of the rail family is very common in Tasmania, and can be seen in paddocks and on the grass verges along the main highway linking Hobart airport to the city. In the Waterworks Reserve it can be found in the wetter grassy areas.
The “cossick, cossick’’ call of the green rosella rings from the reserve as they travel in small family parties and are a delight to watch when they alight in trees, and move about under the canopy, holding sprigs of twigs with seeds or flowers in their claws as they feed.
Although the Green Rosella is called the mountain parrot, the black currawong comes closest to being a truly alpine species. Its trumpeting song is the signature tune of the high country, particularly the slopes of kunanyi/Mount Wellington. But it often comes down to lower altitudes and can sometimes be seen in the Waterworks Reserve.
The same goes for three other Tasmanian species more associated with the mountain, the Tasmanian thornbill, the Tasmanian scrubwren and the scrubtit, three of the LBBs, or “little brown birds”, that so often defy identification.
The trails in the wetter parts of the Waterworks Reserve reveal scrubwrens scurrying like mice out of the way of walkers, and it is possible to find the Tasmanian thornbill in wetter areas of the reserve. Also, the scrubtit.
And finally in this wild and wacky state, the forty-spotted pardalote, the second smallest species in Australia and one of the rarest birds in the world. Although far from wacky like some of the other Tasmanian species, in the context of its home state it is certainly “wild”, hiding principally in the pristine white gum woodlands of Bruny Island.
*Donald Knowler is a journo legend. He writes the On The Wing column in the Saturday Mercury.
• Tess Lawrence in Comments: G’day Don, you are indeed a legend – thank you so much for writing this – have learned so much – I reckon you should write a book on these endemic birds – and I reckon Sir David would do the foreword! …
tess lawrence
June 25, 2018 at 12:43
G’day Don, you are indeed a legend – thank you so much for writing this – have learned so much – I reckon you should write a book on these endemic birds – and I reckon Sir David would do the foreword!
Imagine your wonderful words on each bird, fab colour plates, etchings, indigenous stories, colonial descriptions, observations, paintings, reproductions from other books and photos.
Printed and published in Tassie, of course.
[email protected]
June 26, 2018 at 21:07
Oh robin:
I know not what you think, or feel,
as from your perch you quickly steal
down to the ground to briefly sup
and then just as quickly,
straight back up…
Oh robin!
(Our robins don’t seem to like staying on the ground, whereas wrens seem happy to ‘graze’/hunt, advancing across the ground in lines something like an ’emu bob’. I love the spotted pardelote, that avian troglodyte! Pity Tasmania’s emus became extinct not long after the arrival of the Europeans (ie the English/NSW colonists).
My favourite bird is the black cocky. I love its call – so wild and free. I love to see them as I often do, flying low and slow and easy, in twos, sometimes threes. Yet I recall in the early eighties, hiking in the SW along a valley north of Melaleuca with a series of gullies coming down along the range to our north. And parallel to us, a black cocky was flying up the valley, calling loudly, and approaching each gully, calling out pairs/groups of black cockies that were overnighting in each gully. As this leading cocky stirred them/woke them in each gully, they came out, grumbling it seemed, and joined the group, now increasing in size. And my love of that black and yellow bird is the converse to the white (sulphur crested) cocky. Gee, I simply do not like to hear its call. I don’t like its short tail. I don’t like the fact that in the last couple of decades it has move up from the valley floor and now overnights on the mountain above my house. Anyway, it’s amazing to see that white cockies (of some type) were known in Europe as early as the 13th century.)
John Wiseman
June 29, 2018 at 07:02
Lovely article. I have surfed in the South Arm area since the 1970’s and have seen a complete loss of sand pipers, oyster catchers and other species from the beach areas. I have watched surfers and other dog owners let their dogs roam nesting areas on beaches near Calvets lagoon. I have asked national parks to prosecute but their staff are limited. I have copped abuse from dog owners even mentioning putting pets on leads. Sadly the beaches are now quiet from bird noise.