Yellow-billed Kingfisher - Portraits and Profiles

I’ve twice been to Iron Range National Park (now Kutini-Payamu National Park) on bird banding trips. The first was in late November 2005 – the banner photo above shows our campsite at Gordon Creek. The second trip was at the same time of year but six years later, in 2011. The timing is very deliberate – intended to coincide with the very end of the dry season, so after most migrants have returned to the area if they’re going to, but hopefully also before the wet begins. If you’re still there after the first big rains you could be stuck there for quite a while as the river crossings become impassable.

Not that this timing has any relevance to the bird featured in this blog post. The Yellow-billed Kingfisher is resident in the area, inhabiting rainforest edges, tropical scrubs and woodland edges. It is a beautiful bird, not uncommon, and fairly frequently heard, but often difficult to actually see. This, together with its restricted range, makes it one of the key target species for birdwatchers venturing to the far north of Queensland’s Cape York Peninsula. 

When seen, the Yellow-billed Kingfisher is most often glimpsed in the depths of the rainforest vegetation.

Mostly they’ll keep to themselves, well hidden in the dense foliage of the lower to middle canopy. Even when nesting they have been described as non-aggressive and liable to desert the nest if disturbed (Reader's Digest 1976), but other evidence suggests they can be fairly pugnacious and won’t hesitate to make their discontent known if riled. David Hollands in his book Kingfishers & Kookaburras : Jewels of the Australian Bush (1999) relates eloquently and evocatively (as he does) some of his experiences trying to photograph nesting yellow-bills at Iron Range, and at 'Silver Plains' at the southern limit of the species’ distribution.

While banding along Portland Road in Iron Range National Park in 2011, we had a pair of Yellow-billed Kingfishers regularly taunting us with their calls, which are notoriously ventriloquial. Their call is a pleasant whistled usually descending trill, somewhat similar to that of the Fan-tailed Cuckoo. (And sometimes likened to a postman’s whistle – but I’ve never actually experienced the blowing of a postal worker’s whistle; well, maybe in an old movie I guess.) The birds were obviously fairly close, but proved proverbially difficult to locate. Eventually we did find the birds, in the canopy almost directly above us. They may well have ventriloquial calls, but I think they were also moving about a little ‘cause I really don’t think they were looking down haughtily at us for all of the time we were hearing them!

Female Yellow-billed Kingfisher in the trees above our banding site at Iron Range NP.

Later, the male joined her and they both watched us quietly as we watched them rather more excitedly.

Yellow-billed Kingfishers are about 20 cm in length. The male has a bright orange head, the female's is not quite so bright and has a dark patch on top of the crown. Both have dark spots either side of the nape. They feed mainly on insects, earthworms and small lizards. The nest is excavated in an arboreal termite nest, usually 3-15 metres above the ground.

They are also called Saw-billed Kingfishers because of the serrated edge to the upper bill (see photos below), and in New Guinea, where two of the three subspecies occur, they are also known as Lowland or Lesser Yellow-billed Kingfishers to distinguish them from their congener, the Mountain Kingfisher.

The Australian race, which occurs from the northern tip of Cape York to Princess Charlotte Bay, is known scientifically as Syma torotoro flavirostris. Syma is the name of a 'sea nymph' from Greek mythology (there is an ongoing theme of sea-based mythological personages and animals in kingfisher taxonomy for reasons which are best left alone here but well worth looking into if you have the time and inclination - Google, or try Australian Bird Names - a complete guide by Ian Fraser and Jeannie Gray, CSIRO Publishing, 2013 - it's a great read!). The specific epithet, torotoro, is from the local name for the bird in West Papua. René Lesson, the French ornithologist who named the species in 1827, claimed it was in reference to the birds' call. I must hear things differently! The subspecies name flavirostris means yellow-billed (surprise, surprise), and was given by John Gould in 1850 when he named the species Halcyon flavirostris, not realising that Lesson had already done the honours with the New Guinea birds. 

We were lucky enough to see Yellow-billed Kingfishers on both trips to the Cape, and band both  a female and a male in 2005, providing perfect opportunities to photograph the birds in the hand. I'll let the photos speak for themselves...

Female Yellow-billed Kingfisher Syma torotoro, Iron Range NP, Nov 2005.
Note the dark patch on the crown, which only the female has.

Male Yellow-billed Kingfisher Syma torotoro, Iron Range NP, Nov 2005.
The serrated edge to the upper bill provides the alternative name of Saw-billed Kingfisher.

Female Yellow-billed Kingfisher Syma torotoro, Iron Range NP, Nov 2005.
The twin nape spots are larger in females and sometimes join up forming a short collar.

Male Yellow-billed Kingfisher Syma torotoro, Iron Range NP, Nov 2005.
The males head plumage is brighter with no dark patch on the crown.

Female Yellow-billed Kingfisher Syma torotoro, Iron Range NP, Nov 2005.

Male Yellow-billed Kingfisher Syma torotoro, Iron Range NP, Nov 2005.

You'll never see eyes as beautiful as this on any other bird! I just wonder how they stop the mascara running in the humidity!

Buddigower Banding - an unsprung Spring?

The weather was unseasonably warm and the bush very dry. The last time I had been out there banding, exactly four years prior, the place had been awash with wildflowers and everything seemed fresh and vibrant. This time it all seemed a little tired.

Buddigower Nature Reserve is in central New South Wales, just 7 km further along a dirt road from the Charcoal Tank Nature Reserve (12 km south of West Wyalong) where we have a regular bird banding site. We generally only get to Buddigower about every three years, and this time the gap had been four. Apart from the core group of eight banders, there were also five COG members (COG = Canberra Ornithologists Group) along for the ride on this Labour Day long weekend (3-6 October).

I’d been in Melbourne for work on the Friday so couldn’t get out to Buddigower until later on the Saturday afternoon. But this did mean we were travelling in daylight and along the way we stopped for a couple of reptiles on the road to ensure they didn't become road-kill.

A Shingleback Lizard Tiliqua rugosa (Scincidae)
was persuaded to remove itself from the middle of the road.

And a beautiful Sand Monitor (or Gould's Goanna) Varanus gouldii (Varanidae) welcomed us to Buddigower

while always keeping a close eye on us. 

When we arrived at Buddigower, Karen and I set to to get a few nets up before dusk, in the same area we had banded those four years previously, then went about the business of setting up camp. It seems Mark and his crew, who had set up on the Friday afternoon, hadn’t done so well, with less than 20 birds banded for the day.

The dryness may well be the first sign of the predicted el Niño cycle. Whatever the case, there wasn’t much flowering; certainly not the main woodland eucalypt species, nor the widespread understorey of cassinia bushes. But there were several acacias still in flower. And a few isolated cassia bushes, as well as a scattering of Calytrix, Thysanotus, and some everlastings, added splashes of colour (mainly yellow) to the otherwise fairly muted landscape.

Currawang Acacia doratoxylon (Fabaceae-Mimosaceae)

Streaked Wattle Acacia lineata (Fabaceae-Mimosaceae)

A cassia (probably Cassia nemophila) (Fabaceae-Caesalpiniaceae). In the early morning the surrounding bushland was redolent with the scent from these bushes, smelling like freshly prepared garam masala!

Common Fringe-myrtle Calytrix tetragona (Myrtaceae)

Twining Fringe-lily Thysanotus patersonii (Anthericaceae)

A 'Yellow Buttons' everlasting (Chrysocephalum sp. either apiculatum or semipapposum)

There were certainly birds about. They were quite vocal, and fairly active, but mostly they kept to the canopy so we had little success at the nets. At our site, Karen and I managed just 23 birds for the weekend: 7 White-browed Babblers, several Eastern Yellow Robins (including a presumed family party of mum, dad, and a stripe-headed juvenile in the first net on the first round), 3 White-eared Honeyeaters, a couple of Red-capped Robins, a Variegated Fairy-wren, a very obstreperous kookaburra (with its mate egging it on from the sidelines), a trio of Grey Fantails and a Willie Wagtail. The juvenile robin, as well as a few birds with brood patches, were the only signs that some birds at least were breeding. The Rufous Whistlers, Weebills, Inland Thornbills, Western Gerygones, Jacky Winters, Grey Shrike Thrush and Mistletoebirds were constant and welcome vocal companions but all stayed resolutely away from the nets.

White-browed Babbler Pomatostomus superciliosus (Pomatostomidae)
one of the seven caught was a re-trap from the 2010 trip.

Male Red-capped Robin Petroica goodenovii (Petroicidae)

This little Inland Thornbill Acanthiza apicalis (Acanthizidae) came to investigate why the Red-capped Robin was making such a fuss while he was being photographed immediately prior to release.

The middle of the day was hot. 36 degrees hot! More than the predicted 32, which would have been bad enough, and well above the long-term average for October (about 24ºC). The birds quietened down, but the mad-dog non-Englishman (me, in this case) continued his vain pursuit of them - in vain.

The insects, however, seemed to be enjoying the conditions. Several butterflies (Meadow Argus, Australian Painted Lady, Caper White, and a tiny grass blue) were around in small numbers. One Meadow Argus had taken a liking to, indeed laid claim to, a three square metre patch of track and was flushed each and every time I passed to check the net. Grasshoppers of several species gave me some great opportunities to play with my new macro lens, as did several robber flies, and the occasional dragonfly hummed by (possibly an emerald or emperor?) or perched on exposed twigs (Wandering Percher).

Australian Plague Locust Chortoicetes terminifera - brown form.

Australian Plague Locust Chortoicetes terminifera - green form.

Grasshopper 'type B' - red & grey form.

Grasshopper 'type B' - orange form.

The 'type B' grasshoppers would wave their front legs about
in what looked like some kind of semaphoric signalling 

and had gnarly 'old man' faces.

Robber fly 'type A' - male

Robber fly 'type A' - female.
The dense cluster of bristles in front of the face is called a mystax;
it helps to protect the fly against the struggles of any incalcitrant insect prey.

At first I thought this was a weird-looking robber fly (Asilidae) but on looking it up determined that it is in fact a species of Apiocera, from the family Apioceridae - closely related to Asilidae but one I've never come across before. Woo-hoo!

With evening, the temperature dropped slightly and the spiders came out to prowl, their eye-shine, reflecting back from the ground in front of our head-lamps, as bright as the stars above. More scope for a bit of macro experimentation. While I focussed on the larger spiders for photography, it was evident there were very many young spiders about, clearly following a major recent hatching event.

A wolf spider on the prowl.

Ain't she beautiful!

Another wolf spider hiding in its burrow - this one has very dark chelicerae compared to the first one.

I managed to induce it out of its burrow by scratching the ground with a small twig...

and got a great face on photo before it scuttled back down its hole. 

Another night-time discovery provided, for me, the highlight of the trip. There had been a Spotted Nightjar calling sporadically the previous two evenings, but on Sunday night a brief bout of spotlighting by some of the group located a nightjar nesting on the ground not far from camp (thanks Kathy), while its mate continued to call in its distinctive and eerie way as it swept over the tree-tops or the more distant paddocks. I’d just settled down for a well needed sleep when alerted to the find, but I threw off the sheet and was pulling on jeans in an instant for this opportunity.

Spotted Nightjar Eurostopodus argus (Caprimulgidae) on its nest at night.

Spotted Nightjars lay a single, pale green, speckled egg,
the 'nest' being a simple scrape in the leaf litter.

Next morning, the Spotted Nightjar's camouflage in the dappled sunlight was exquisite. Just as well I knew exactly where the nest was.

Spotted Nightjar Eurostopodus argus (Caprimulgidae) on its nest - what a great bird

So while the bird banding could have been better, and spring breeding isn't perhaps in fullest swing, the trip was undeniably a success. 

Bowra Bird Banding

Bowra Station is a property that up until a few years ago was run as a family grazing operation, just outside of Cunnamulla in outback Queensland. Now it is owned and run by the Australian Wildlife Conservancy as a nature reserve, and birds are especially bounteous.

It is in the heart of the mulga country of south-west Queensland, and hosts such mulga specialties as Halls’ Babbler, Bourke’s Parrot and Chestnut-breasted Quail-thrush, but also includes a range of other habitats and boasts a bird list of just over 200 species. Bowra has been a revered location for birders for a long time, and was included among the top ten birding sites in Australia in the most recent edition of Australian Birdlife, BirdLife Australia’s magazine.

Hall’s Babblers (Pomatostomus halli) are not uncommon at Bowra but are shy and like to keep their distance. This bird carries a band and is presumably one of the birds Dean Portelli banded as part of his PhD research in 2006-09.

We managed to catch and band two Hall’s Babblers in the “Western Paddocks” part of Bowra. This one is looking a little ruffled and somewhat disgruntled just before being released.

We (Karen and I) made the 1,000 km drive from Canberra to Bowra to participate, as part of the Canberra contingent of banders, in an Easter / ANZAC week of bird banding organised by Jon Coleman from Brisbane. Other Canberrans were Mark Clayton, and Richard, Mark and Brett Allen, but the bulk of the effort was made up of another 20 or so people, mainly from Queensland.

We saw quite a few Emus (Dromaius novaehollandiae) on the drive up to Bowra, as well as on the property. These ones, attracted to seepage from a water trough, were our companions through much of our second day of banding. 

Australian Bustards (Ardeotis australis) are always a highlight, nobless personified. We were lucky to pick up on this one in the long roadside grasses as we whizzed by at 110+.

The weather was perfect (it is Queensland, after all!) with temperatures just edging into the low 30s on some days, and dropping to a refreshing 13 or so overnight. The region had received good rains in February, with follow-up rains in March, so the vegetation was looking fabulous, but we were blessed with beautiful sunny days and clear starry nights.

Our camp site by the billabong was idyllic – glowing reflective moonrises (and sunrises on the few days we hadn’t already de-camped before dawn to get an early start with the banding), and the all-night serenades of several species of frog, the strident cackle of the Masked Lapwings (Karen’s unfairly deplored “ugly-bird”), the soft yelping of the White-headed Stilts, and the “sweet-pretty-creaturing” of the Willie Wagtails all adding to the atmospherics.

Our campsite at Bowra Station, between the billabong and the shearers' quarters.

We pitched our tent less than 10 m from the edge of the billabong and were treated to its various moods. This moonrise, with Scorpius ascending, is at a bit of an angle as, in the absence of a tripod, I balanced the camera on a gas cylinder wedged into the fork of a tree; and I didn't want to rotate and crop as that would have deleted Pi Scorpii (the right nipper) from the image.

Sunrises over the billabong were beautiful and serene.

And the suffused pink of sunset foreshadowed the arrival of the mosquitoes!

Three of our four days there were solidly taken up with banding activities. All up, the Canberra team banded something over 400 birds. Finches made up the bulk of our catches, thanks to some nets being strategically placed close to water at each of the sites where we banded, but we caught a wide range of species, some of the highlights being Hall’s Babblers (2), a Crested Bellbird, a budgie, Diamond Doves, a Restless Flycatcher and the three local Fairy-wrens (Variegated, Splendid and White-winged varieties).

The banding station in a quiet moment - Karen, Mark and Brett.

Male Zebra Finch Taeniopygia guttata.

Double-barred Finch Taeniopygia bichenovii.

Male Plum-headed Finch Neochmia modesta.

The line-up: male Zebra Finch, Double-barred Finch and male and female Plum-headed Finch.

A male Crested Bellbird (Oreoica gutturalis) - frequently heard but less often seen let alone captured.

A male Red-capped Robin (Petroica goodenovii) - common but always stunning!

Brown Honeyeater (Lichmera indistincta) - the facial markings are anything but indistinct when seen this close.

A female Budgerigar (Melopsittacus undulatus) - what a stunner!

A very uncooperative Australian Ringneck and several excruciatingly loud and sharp-clawed Apostlebirds inflicted the worst damage, but all wounds have now healed satisfactorily!

Mark, Richard, Mark and Brett had arrived a day earlier than Karen and I did, and left a day earlier, so we spent our final day looking for birds rather than banding them. I was very keen to find a Chestnut-breasted Quail-thrush but unfortunately was not successful. In fact I didn’t get a single new species for the whole trip. But the birdwatching, both at Bowra, and on the way to and from, was nonetheless very satisfying and I logged a total of 131 species for the trip.

Of these, the ones that stand out most for me were the numerous emus along the route; the single bustard we saw just south of Cunnamulla; the many Plum-headed Finches (which I also saw at the Nyngan “waterbird wetlands” aka the sewage works); the Mulga Parrots, Bluebonnets, Red-winged Parrots, Superb Parrots, Major Mitchell’s Cockatoos, and flocks of Cockatiels and Budgerigars; a swirling mass of 300+ Black Kites, a hugely dark Black-breasted Buzzard lifting off from a carcass just in front of the car; and an exquisite view of a male Spotted Bowerbird bathing at the campsite billabong with its bright pink nuchal crest glowing brilliantly in the sunshine.

White-headed Stilt (Himantopus leucocephalus) at the campsite billabong.

Male Splendid Fairy-wren (Malurus splendens).

A pair of Brown Falcons (Falco berigora) at "Stony Ridge" kept a close eye on me. 

On the way home, we watched this male Plum-headed Finch at the Nyngan sewage works take two large feathers to its nest in the rank grasses on the levee of the settling pond. Probably the bird of the trip for me.