At bay
Southern Boobook
Heading down to lock up the chooks before dusk, we were surprised to see this Southern Boobook (Ninox novaeseelandiae) emerge from a dense Sweet Bay tree not 5m from the house. After a brief spell in a Sweet Bursaria bush, it flew across to a Black Wattle where it perched for a while, arousing the interest of a curious Grey Shrike-thrush.
Then all hell broke loose as a raucous Red Wattlebird flushed it into a nearby Yellow Box tree. The wattlebird was then joined by a pair of noisy Grey Butcherbirds, who proceeded to pester the hapless little owl with dives and beak-clicking for a good ten minutes. All the while the wattlebird kept up a manic cackling as we watched from a distance.
The owl kept the birds at bay and was finally left in peace, except for the howling wind which was blowing, making photography difficult. This mobbing behaviour by other birds seems to be a common occurrence in the life of a boobook.
Tales from the woodpile #5
The results are clear. The most popular subjects on this blogsite are the warm and fuzzy ones. Phascogales, rakalis and owls are in. Creepy-crawlies that live in woodpiles are out. Having said that, here’s another Woodpile blog.
For all you fuzzy-philes, this picture (left) taken at our woodpile should satisfy you (or maybe not!). The Red Fox or European Fox (Vulpes vulpes) needs no introduction. Unfortunately they are a common sight in our district and there is a family of them, including four cubs, in our woodpile.
On a less cuddly note, a recent excursion to the woodpile turned up this Australian Wood Cockroach (Panesthia sp.), pictured below, 
different from the species of cockroach previously reported. The Aussie wood cockroach lives in family groups in rotten logs and the females gives birth to live nymphs. The families tell each other apart using chemical markers. Wood cockroaches are a key agent in the breakdown of wood, using specialised amoebae in their gut to digest the cellulose. Some species of Panesthia are wingless, but others, like the one pictured, shed their wings. If you have a close look at the thorax you can see the wing stumps (click image for larger view).
These wood cockroaches are not warm and fuzzy, but then again they do not spend their lives decimating native wildlife.
Agile by name …
The same remote camera that recorded images of a Grey Currawong featured in our previous post also captured night-time pictures of a small animal darting around the trunk of a Long-leaf Box tree. It is an antechinus, most likely an Agile Antechinus (Antechinus agilis), a carnivorous native marsupial related to quolls, phascogales, dunnarts – and the Tasmanian Devil. Living up to its name, the Agile Antechinus is a swift and acrobatic climber, though it does spend time on the ground foraging for invertebrates.
As with phascogales, the winter mating period of the antechinus ends with the abrupt death of all males from stress-induced breakdown of the immune system. Many of the females also have a short life and die before having the chance of a second breeding. They nest in tree hollows, and have been found to readily adapt to artificial nest-boxes.
Barking up the wrong tree?
This Grey Currawong (Strepera versicolor) was recorded on remote camera at a Strath Creek Biodiversity Project site on a steep slope of the ‘Three Sisters’, Flowerdale. It seemed to be searching for something under the bark of a Long-leaf Box tree (Eucalyptus goniocalyx), which still shows the scorch marks from the 2009 Black Saturday bushfires.
It spent about 15 minutes on one day without apparent success, then returned for a short period the next day, before flying off empty-handed (-billed?).
As can be seen in the video, the Grey Currawong has a long pick-like bill that it often uses to lever off bark and winkle out invertebrate prey hidden underneath. Its main vocalisation is a ringing two-note call which can be heard by clicking on the audio bar below.
Caught out late
Part of our daily routine involves a power walk up the hill to the top of the road and back. Not only is this a great start to the day but it gives me a chance to spy the next subject for the blogs. Given my walking shoes have orthotics in them which makes them squeak, anything with ears is miles away before I get near. Generally I only come home with pictures of fungi or flowers.
However on this day as I came squeaking around the bend we saw a flash of grey and black hurtling up a Long-leaved Box (Eucalyptus goniocalyx). Close examination of the upper branches revealed a Brush-tailed Phascogale or Tuan (Phascogale tapoatafa) staring down at us. We have previously seen images of these creatures captured on our remote camera as they visited our birdbath at night, but never during the day and never in real-life. Seeing this individual was a huge treat.
Typically phascogales hunt in trees for birds, reptiles and other small mammals at night. But the mating season is between June and August and we may have observed a male travelling between female partners during the daylight hours. Famously, male phascogales usually die before they are 12 months old as a result of frenzied mating.
Its continued sighting in our area begs the previously asked question about phascogales – endangered or just elusive?
The Bristly Goatsucker returns
As bird names go, the Australian Owlet-nightjar is a bit of a mouthful. However, I think it is far more preferable than its scientific name, Aegotheles cristatus, which translated from Greek and Latin means Bristly Goatsucker: aigo is Greek for goat, thelazo is Greek for to suckle and cristatus is Latin for crested. The scientific name is derived from the legend that this bird at night suckles from she-goats. The ‘bristly’ part of the name refers to the hairs that stick out from the top of the beak — see photo left.
Anyway, over the past few years an owlet-nightjar has been one of the regular tenants in the nestbox situated in a tree next to our deck. For the past nine months the box has been untenanted and then last week the Bristly Goatsucker returned. The breeding season is between August and December. We hope the bird has moved in to start a family.
The Australian Owlet-nightjar is the only owlet-nightjar species in Australia. It is extremely inquisitive and none too scared. Any noise we make outside the nestbox, like visiting the wood stash, results in the bird sticking its glider-looking head outside the box for a sticky-beak (pictured right).
We don’t know how long it will stay this time. If previous visits are any indication, not long. But we always know that they are around by the characteristic ‘churring’ courtship call we hear during the dark hours – the name nightjar is said to originate from this sound, as in night-churr.
Moonlight serenade
In recent weeks we have been serenaded to sleep by a single frog calling intermittently somewhere near the back door. Listen to the call by clicking on the audio bar below.
We think it is the frog pictured above, a Plains Brown Tree Frog (Litoria paraewingi) which we found close by, hiding under a plastic sheet covering a firewood stack. Well, perhaps it’s not this particular frog, but it does sound like that species.
Meanwhile, down at our large dam and adjacent wetland area, the frog of the month is the Common Froglet (Crinia signifera), which is present in large numbers and in full voice (click below to hear), though it is proving far too wary to allow a photograph. It can also be heard in the background of the previous recording.
Percy gets raided
I know them as Bull Ants, or Percy Bull Ants, to borrow the name of a character from the Dorothy Wall Australian classic Blinky Bill but they go by a variety of names. At the bottom of a recently excavated echidna digging I found several bull ants hefting huge chunks of gravel in their jaws, obviously trying to put some order to the recent devastation and rebuild their house.
All but one species of Bull Ant of the genus Myrmecia are found in Australia. They are aggressive hunters with excellent eyesight. Many a time I have been bailed up by soldier ants 
guarding the entrance to their nest. The enormous jaws (pictured right) are not the primary weapon of defence: it is the sting in the tail. The ants use their large jaws to grasp their prey or their tormentors (as I found out when I was younger) which then enables them to curl their abdomen and deliver the sting. These ants will attack creatures far greater in size than themselves. Last summer I observed bull ants driving off an echidna intent on digging up their nest. Bull ants’ greatest enemies are several species of smaller ants, which make up in numbers what they lack in size.
Anyone here order bug?
Despite their formidable appearance the adult insect feeds mainly on nectar, seeds, fungi and honeydew excreted by insects such as leaf hoppers and scale insects. The larvae are carnivores. Worker ants are sent out to forage and bring prey back into the nest for them to eat. Sort of like home delivery.
Things that go thump – in the day
We live in a house perched at the head of a valley. This affords us views of the distant mountains and the upcoming weather. Most of the walls are glass. From one side of the house you can see out through the other side. The problem is that birds see the same thing – but not the glass. Sometimes they hit the glass with that sickening thump we have come to dread.
Beautiful plumage (not a Norwegian Blue)
Feathered torpedoes like the Crimson Rosella (Platycercus elegans) seem robust enough to survive the impact. They are generally dazed but are off and flying within a minute or so. Others such as members of the cuckoo family are usually killed instantly.
After the latest thump we found a male Golden Whistler (Pachycephala pectoralis) lying on the deck. As it was still alive, I picked it up to keep it warm (I’m not sure if that’s what you’re supposed to do).
Upsy-daisy!
Golden Whistlers, particularly the males, are a handsome bird (see picture above) with a melodious call – hence their name. They are hard to see or photograph because they spend their time flitting high in the treetops. This accident gave me a rare chance to appreciate one up close.
In my hand the bird closed its eyes and clenched its feet. Fearing the worst I kept holding it and after about half an hour it opened its eyes, one at a time, and struggled upright. I left it sitting on one of the outdoor deck chairs.
Thanks
Thankfully, three hours later it was gone leaving nothing but an artfully arranged poo. It must have mistakenly thought it was sitting on the ‘throne’ and left the deposit either in thanks or in disgust. A happy ending, but we wait with dread for the next thump.
Motto: People in glass houses should not stow thrones.
Tales from the woodpile #4
Well, it is that time of the year again. The mercury has plummeted to single digits overnight (almost hitting zero already) and regular pilgrimages to the woodpile begin for another year. Last year we discovered a whole range of critters in the woodpile when splitting logs. This year is no different.
Last year Ms Bark Cockroach (Laxta granicollis) was found hiding in the narrow splits in the logs and featured on this blog. This year Mr Bark Cockroach (pictured above) has put in an appearance. The male is just as flat but the obvious difference is that it has wings.
Interestingly, the logs are now the substrate for many species of fungi. This mushroom (Mycena sp.) growing out of a Long-leaved Box (Eucalyptus goniocalyx) log was covered in six-legged invertebrates known as Springtails (click on the photo right for a larger image). Last month we featured an article on grey aquatic Springtails that spend their lives on or in water – in particular in the bucket of rainwater beneath our eaves. These red mushroom dwellers are terrestrial Springtails. There are several species of springtails that are red. To tell them apart, you have to check out the length of the legs and antennae and the configuration of the body segments. But by the time I had raced back to the house, picked up the microscope and raced back, the springtails had moved on.
I can’t wait to see what the woodpile turns up next week.
Focus On Fauna 