Bird of the Week

Bird 346 – Hyacinth Macaw

This week let’s meet the biggest parrot in the world, the Hyacinth Macaw. These big beauties from Brazil grow to be about a metre in length from the tip of their tail to the top of their head, easily making them the longest parrot. Only the flightless Kakapo beats them out in weight.

An incredibly striking bird with their bright blue plumes, contrasted with sunny patches of yellow bare skin around their beak and eyes. But their beauty has been the source of problems. For decades, the Hyacinth was poached from their native habitat to be bred in private aviaries and zoos around the world. That coupled with habitat destruction has led to a collapse of their wild populations and today they are listed as a vulnerable species. One of the only upshots of their popularity as an aviary bird is that there are a lot of them in captivity. Now that attitudes are slowing shifting towards conservation, and as habitat is protected and restored, these captive birds may provide the stock to re-seed the species back to their native land.

In the wild the Hyacinth also has a love-hate relationship with another bird, the Toco Toucan. To breed, the Macaw relies primarily on natural hollows that form in Manduvi trees. In turn, the Manduvi tree relies on the Toucan to disperse its seeds throughout the forest. But then the Toucan is a major predatory of the Macaw’s nest, with about 50% of their eggs being lost to predation from the Toucans. It’s one of those sad ironies of life, that the Macaw cannot finding a nesting site without the Toucan, but when it does the Toucan is going to eat its eggs.

It’s a delightful win-win for the Toucan, they get to eat the fruit from the Manduvi tree, spread its seeds to make more trees, and then also eat any Macaw eggs that turn up. They’ve cracked the perfect system, and the poor old Macaw is left to do the best it can. So it turns out it’s a bit of a sad story for the world’s largest parrot. If you wanted to hear more about parrots and what their deal is, why not check out our latest podcast episode, now available here.

24/03/24

Photo credit:

1: “Hyacinth Macaws (Anodorhynchus hyacinthinus)” by berniedup

2: “Hyacinth Macaw head” by Jud McCranie

3: “Toco Toucan (Ramphastos toco) in Papaya Tree (Carica papaya) (28997424215)” by Bernard DUPONT from FRANCE

4: Geoff Gallice from Gainesville, FL, USA – Hyacinth macaws

Bird 345 – Ribbon-Tailed Astrapia

This week we meet one of the most brilliant, but maybe poorly known birds in the world: the Ribbon-tailed Astrapia.

The Astrapia is a member of the Birds-of-Paradise family. People who have been following me for a while may remember I went a bit BoP crazy there a while back, so if you want to read an overly long essay, or listen to a podcast I’ve previously done on the broader family, feel free to check those out.

But we’re not here to talk about the whole family, we want to look at this one in particular. Now, the first thing you might have noticed is the shockingly long tail (and that’s before you even get to their iridescent head and pomp-pomp nose ornament). Brilliant white, their tail stands out against the darker body plumes. This ornamentation only belongs to the male and is a feature he uses to attract a mate. In full plume the tail is ridiculous, it makes the bird look like a tiny plane pulling a long banner with a message through the sky. And indeed it is a message, it says ‘look at how fabulous I am, perfect father material’.

When talking about how big the Ribbon-Tailed Astrapia is you always have to include two figures. On average, the body of the bird is about 30cm long, so standard middle of the road sized bird. But if you include the male’s tale, they’re more like 1.3 metres.

That’s right, these tails can get up to a metre long. Which gives the Ribbon-Tailed Astrapia a strange claim to fame: as a ratio to its body, they have the longest tail of any bird.

Much like a peacock, it may seem counter intuitive to evolve a cumbersome accessory hanging off the back of their butt. It doesn’t help them fly, in fact it actively makes flying harder, impeding the bird’s ability to get around. The only reason why the Astrapia has gotten away with this feature is because on Papua New Guinea they are doubly blessed. Not only is there an over abundance of food, making it easy to forage and gain energy, but they have almost no natural predators, so the ability to flee quickly doesn’t come up all that often.

Living unfettered by the normal limitations other birds face, the Astrapia has been free to pump as many resources as it can into looking fabulous, and my word, is this one fabulous bird.

17/03/24

Photo credit:

1: “Ribbon-tailed Astrapia” by markaharper1

2: “Ribbon-tailed Astrapia male. (Astrapia mayeri)” by gailhampshire

3: unknown

4: “Ribbon-tailed Astrapia male. (Astrapia mayeri)” by gailhampshire

Bird 344 – Principe Scops Owl

Now, I know what you’re thinking. Bold claim, I know. You’re thinking we’ve probably found pretty much every bird there is. I mean … you probably weren’t thinking that, but now that I’ve said it, you’re thinking, yeah that sounds like a reasonable statement. Unless you’re thinking this is an obvious bluff and I’m about to say, ha ha you’re wrong… In which case you’re … right…?

This bit has clearly gotten away from me, so instead let’s meet this week’s bird the Principe Scops Owl.

Before I gave the reveal away, you may have been surprised to learn that this owl was only formal described for the first time in 2022. A shockingly recent discovery for an animal this size. So how does a big old owl go unseen for basically ever? Well, it lives only on a tiny island in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, Principe, part of the equally tiny nation of Sao Tome and Principe. And although the island is populated, the owl lives in the wild uninhabited southern half of the island that is covered in jungle and rugged mountains, making access to its home difficult.

Since 1926 people suspected there was some sort of kooky bird hiding high in the mountains. From time to time there would be reports of strange noises in the night, things that sounded sometimes like monkeys, sometimes like mewling cats and sometimes like chirping crickets. But because it’s home was remote and it was totally nocturnal, no one had ever positively identified the bird.

Following some major efforts to push into the forest and follow up on the rumours the owl was finally discovered to be a hitherto unknown species of Scop Owl. Scop Owls are common in Africa and Asia and are fairly typical owls. They have cryptic colours to help them blend in the forest while they rest during the day. They’re nocturnal hunters who favour small mammals and reptiles.

Currently little is known about the newly discovered Scop Owl, being so fresh on the scene. What we do know is that they have a unique set of calls that no other owl has. But they seem to be restricted to small area of habitat, about four times the size of New York’s Central Park, with a population of about 1,000 or so. But now that we are aware of them, steps can be taken to ensure they and their habitat is protected.

10/03/2024

Photo credit:

1: Philippe Verbelen

2: https://forever-principe.com/c…

3: Philippe Verbelen

Bird 343 – Red-Headed Trogon

Today we meet a bird based solely on the fact that I think they’re pretty. Will I have anything of interest to say beyond, ‘gees check out that plumage’? We will see. But first, let’s check out the plumage of the Red-Headed Trogon!

Undoubtedly, this brilliant red bird is rather handsome. With a golden back, bright red head and breast, and “vermiculated” black and white wings, they are a real stunner. Oh hey, there’s an interesting word: vermiculated, a pattern of dense and irregular lines. How about that.

The Red-Headed Trogon is a bird of the South East Asian jungle. While the male is a bright popping-jay, the female is a more plainly attired brown bird.

Trogons are found across the tropical belt of the world, from South America, Africa and Asia. All species are famous for their stunning colours, but they’re also notoriously difficult to spot. They spend their days in the upper canopy of the jungle, and they’re rather lazy, rarely moving beyond the need to flap off to find some food. But they live in a humid jungle, so hey, no judgement. They also have an annoying habit where if they know they’re being watched they will always turn their brightest plumes away from the observer. No doubt this is a kind of predator avoidance strategy, but it doesn’t help ambitious photographers.

Trogons are freaks in the bird world in the other ways. To this day, people don’t know who their closest genetic relatives are. Now you might look at this bird, and say, what do you mean, they don’t look that different. Well, the weird part is their toes. They have what is called Heterodactyly toes. Which is where the first two toes point forwards and the second toes point backwards. Which I know, sounds like the nerdiest morphological point that only the most painful pedantic bird fanatic would care about. But it turns out no other bird has a toe arrangement like this. Which means, it isn’t clear that they’re really related to anyone. Genetic bird mystery!

So I guess the Red-Headed Trogon and its kin, are off being lazy in the canopy doing their own thing and keeping their pretty plumes to themselves.

03/03/24

Photo credit:

1: “File:Harpactes erythrocephalus – Khao Yai.jpg” by JJ Harrison (jjharrison89@facebook.com)

2: “red-headed trogon, trogon à tête rouge, trogón cabecirrojo” by Rejoice Gassah

3: “red-headed trogon, trogon à tête rouge, trogón cabecirrojo” by CheongWeei Gan

4: “red-headed trogon, trogon à tête rouge, trogón cabecirrojo” by Rejoice Gassah

Bird 342 – Razorbill

This week we meet the Penguin in the north, the Razorbill.

And sure enough, at first glance the Razorbill has a strong Penguin resemblance. They have white bellies and black backs; they spend the majority of their life out at sea, only coming to land to lay their eggs; they’re speciality dive hunters and are quite agile under the water, while being clumsy on land. There is only one major difference between the Penguin and the Razorbill—the Razorbill can fly.

To be both an expert diver and a flyer is a rare feat. The Razorbill hunts for the majority of its prey at surprising depths deep, diving on average to about 25 metres, but they have been recorded going well over 100 meters down when they need to.

You may ask the question, seeing they’re so like Penguins in other ways, why didn’t the Razorbill opt to become flightless, turning their wings to flippers, so they could be even quicker and more agile in the water? Good question, but the answer comes down to where they live. In the southern oceans the Penguin doesn’t have to worry about land predators. There is nothing walking about on Antarctica that can threaten a stumbly-bumbly flightless bird. Zip up to the North Atlantic and you’ve got a different situation. When the Razorbill comes to land they have to contend with Polar Bears and Artic Foxes. Flight can come in handy in these situations, and so the Razorbill has retained their ability to fly.

The Razorbill is a member of the Auk family, and they’re close relatives of the Puffins. Like their colourful relatives, when the Razorbill comes to land they form into large colonies, laying their eggs in cliff crevices. Pairs mate for life and work together to incubate and raise a single chick. While not as unusual or colourful as some other Auk varieties, I still find them to be a rather stately and handsome bird.

If you’d like to learn more about the Penguins on the north, I have previously put together on podcast on their broader family, here. And if you want to learn about the one member of the Auk family who was truly flightless, the Great Auk and what led to their extinction, you can listen to that episode here.

25/02/24

Photo credit:

1: By Charles J. Sharp – Own work, from Sharp Photography, sharpphotography.co.uk

2: “Razorbills and Puffins” by rwhgould

3: “Razorbills” by kvn.jns

4: “Razorbill with a nice catch” by neekoh.fi

Bird 341 – Masked Tityra

This week we meet a cheeky little bird from central America, the Masked Tityra. Strange name, let’s find out what they’re about.

At first glance, these guys look a little like a fancy version of the Butcherbird, with their compact size and hooked pointy beak. But these are a fruit loving bird of the tropics, so a bit less murder going on (unless you’re a big or something). Now you might be wondering what that word Tityra means, because I’ve sure never heard of a bird by that name. Well, they are a rather small family, there are only three species and the name is Greek in origin. It was a name sometimes given to the satyrs, those cloven hooved, mischievous, erotic, nature nymphs of mythology. A goat-legged sexy sprite might seems like a strange pairing for a little berry eating bird from Panama, but supposedly the name came about because of their boisterous and aggressive behaviour.

The Masked Tityra also belongs to the family of birds that lack the sophisticated vocal organs that give many birds their sweet sounding voices. Instead of a melodious twitter, the Tityra tends to have more a mechanical whir. Some people have likened the noise to a fart, but I think it sounds more like a frog … maybe a gassy frog, who can say? Here is a link to their song, so you can decide for yourself: https://birdsoftheworld.org/bow/species/mastit1/cur/introduction?media=audio

My favourite description of the Masked Tityra is about how the male is utterly useless at nest building, from the Life History of Central American Birds III: ”The male faithfully follows his partner back and forth to the nest as it is being built, often holding a leaf or twig, which after being carried on a number of trips is finally dropped somewhere, usually not into the nest. Often the male drops his material while he clings in front of the net’s entrance. Nearly always it flutters to the ground, but sometimes, one might say by accident, he pushes the leaf or twig far enough inside for it to remain in the nest. His efforts to help his mate in building can only be described as ineffectual.”

Naturally the female is also the only one of the pair to incubate the eggs. It seems male Masked Tityra’s are pretty hopeless fathers.

18/02/12024

Photo credit:

1: “Masked Tityra (16529779975)” by Mike’s Birds from Riverside, CA, US

2: “Masked Tityra looking around the nest” by Eric Gropp

3: “Masked Tityra carrying nest material – Rio Tigre – Costa Rica_MG_7925” by fveronesi1

Bird – 340 Sanderling

This week we meet one of the most adorable birds that you will find gracing our beaches: the Sanderling. Cute name, it actually means sand ploughman and we will find out why.

So basic facts about the Sanderling: they’re a type of sandpiper, but one the smallest, coming in at under 20cm. Even so, they are a super star when it comes to long distance migration. During the summer season, they are a circumpolar bird, hanging out high in the artic circle where they form into large flocks to breed and raise their young. But when winter comes they leave and scatter to all corners of the world. Sanderlings can be found on the coastlines of North and South America, Africa, parts of Europe, India, the Middle East, Australia and New Zealand. Basically anywhere with some ocean frontage.

In the warmer climes we are used to seeing the Sanderling in an all white ensemble. But when they go back north to breed, they deck themselves in a brighter spangled browns and oranges.

Maybe the most distinct and humorous thing about the Sanderling is their feeding behaviour. If you go down to the beach, you’ll see them darting about the sand like a maniac. It sometimes looks like they’re playing a game with the waves. Running away as the water rushes in, only to run back as the water retreats. And back and forth they go.

This is part of their feeding strategy. The tiny crustaceans they feed on live just below the surface of the sand. As the water washes over them, they move closer to the surface to feed on bits of algae and other tasty titbits that wash in with the tide. Each successive wave encourages the tiny crabs to the surface. The Sanderling takes advantage of this, coming in just behind the wave as it retreats to grab the crabs before they duck back to deeper safety. Pretty cleaver, and also makes for fun watching. I’ve included a video here, if you’d like to watch so Sanderlings dashing about.

11/02/2024

Photo credit:

1: By JJ Harrison (https://www.jjharrison.com.au/), https://commons.wikimedia.org/…

2: “Sanderling Swarm” by Thomas James Caldwell

3: “Sanderling (Calidris alba) breeding plumage” by Charles J. Sharp

4: “Sanderling (calidris alba)” by Pets4Dawn

Bird 339 – Great Curassow

Have you ever wondered what would happen if Chickens had evolved in Central America? Well your sleepless nights are over, because the answer is the Great Curassow.

These birds are the long lost relatives of chickens and pheasants. In their tropical jungle home they have grown big and beefy. The males are jet black, but are distinguished by their bright yellow beak and curly head plumes, which can appear quite ostentatious. These are also no lightweight, they can grow up to a metre tall and weigh nearly 5Kg, which is pretty big for a bird. Even so, they are still flighted and nest and roost high in the canopy. This is unexpected for such a large bird, but their long and well developed tails have evolved to help them stabilise while in the trees.

Males and females work together to build a nest, and strangely for members of the game bird family, Curassow appear to be monogamous. They have also taken a page out of the Turkey’s book, and are known to be rather aggressive in their mission to protect their babies. This is a good defence strategy for keeping predators away from their cute little babies. But this willingness to attack can sometimes be directed at people. The Curassow will flutter up in its attacked, pecking at the head and specifically targeting the eyes. These guys don’t mess about, they know where your weak point is and they are ready to exploit it.

But as with many birds that rely on the rainforest, they are threatened by habitat loss, and increasingly the only places in the wild where they live are in designated reserves. The Great Curassow is listed as a vulnerable species, so despite their fighting ways they are a bird in need of a little assistance.

04/02/2024

Photo credit:

1: KrøllhokkoA v Carmelo López Abad/via Encyclopedia of Life.

2: by Kurayba, Mr. Bitey (Great Curassow)

3: ”Great Currassow” by Tony Tarry

Bird 338 – Little Corella

This week we have another Australian favourite, or maybe they’re a pest, I guess it all depends on your point of view. Our point of view is aggressively pro bird, so they’re a favourite: the Little Corella.

The Little Corella is like a budget version of a Sulphur-crested Cockatoo. The Corella is a small member of the Cockatoo family and they’re pretty instantly recognisable. They’re an all white bird, with a little white crest on their head. Under their eyes is a bare patch of blue skin, so it kinda looks like they’ve had one too many late nights. But they’ve tried to disguise it by applying just a little bit of rouge. It hasn’t worked.

But those pinky plumes did at one time earn them the name the Blood-stained Cockatoo, which is pretty badass.

These are hardy little parrots. They have managed to make their home all over Australia, from the dry interior to or suburban parks. Often you’ll seem them paling about in large flocks that can be several hundred birds in size. With that many birds in one place, you’ll often hear them long before you see them. And indeed, they do sound similar to their larger cockatoo cousins, and are even happy to join them in mixed flocks.

Corellas and Cockatoos share numerous behaviours and even have the same sense of mischievous humour. Corellas are known to joke about with each other and will also try to impress their fellow by hanging upside down from branches or power lines. At least we assume they must be doing it for the larks, because I’m not sure what other benefit swinging upside down from the end of a tree has.

A few governments in Australia have deemed the Corella to be a crop pest, as they can really go to town on crops, even killing trees by stripping them of leaves, branches and bark. But look at that little sleep deprived face. There’s no way you can stay mad.

28/01/2024

Photo credit:

1: “Little Corella (Cacatua sanguinea) Australian garden” by Louise Docker

2: “Little Corella (Cacatua sanguinea)” by patrickkavanagh

3: “Little Corella.” by Laurie R B

Bird 337 – Tui

Ah, tomorrow is Australia Day, and you know what that means. At Bird of the Week it is officially New Zealand Bird Appreciation Day. And this year do I have a beauty for you, the Tui.

The Tui is a large species of honeyeater. Just one look at this fellow and you can tell they’re unique. Check out that strange little pom-pom on the front of their chest. At first glance the Tui can look all black, and because of this pop of white on their throat they were originally known as Parson Birds, supposedly because they resemblance a priests wearing their collar. But look a little closer and it’s obvious they have a lot of colour going on, particularly around their neck where they have some curly grey hair-like feathers twirling about.

In New Zealand’s forests the Tui plays an important role as a pollinator. Their beaks have evolved to perfectly match the shape and length of many different flowers, and as the bird go from one to the next, feeding on nectar, they pick up pollen on the brow of their head and deposit it at the next flower. Their like a giant, raucous bee.

Speaking of raucous, the Tui is also famed for the wide repertoire of songs they sing. They have everything from melodious twittering, harsh electric calls, and even rude scalding tones. In some ways, they’re a little bit like a parrot as they have an uncanny ability to mimic other sounds, including human speech. If you’re interested here is a video of one doing its thing: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0YHnXe7WKpU

26/01/2024

Photo credit:

1: “Tui striking a pose” by __Wichid__

2: “Tui Delight” by Angel Lite Photography

3: Sid Mosdell from New Zealand – Tūī on HarakekeUploaded by snowmanradio.