Bird of the Week

Bird 296 – White-faced Heron

If you’ve spent time wondering around wetlands, chances are you’ve spotted the White-faced Heron. Chances are you have also thought it was a Grey Heron or a Blue Heron, based on their overly greyish-blue plumes. But don’t you believe it for a moment, there is a Grey Heron and a Blue Heron, but they are birds for a different week.

There is something fundamentally elegant about a Heron. With their long legs; strangely curvy S-shaped necks; and pointy, possibly deadly, beaks. They just seem naturally graceful.

Herons have a mostly aquatic diet. They wade into shallow water, using their long legs to keep dry. And then they wait, ready to strike with that possibly deadly beak. And the Heron prefers to spear its prey. It doesn’t catch fish in its beak, it runs its beak right through its foe. Which is pretty badass.

Maybe you’re wondering what the difference is between a Heron and a Crane? Hell, are they even the same thing? You never can tell with birds. Well, it turns out they are different, and aren’t even closely related at all. The best way to tell them apart is by their necks when they are in flight. Herons tend to fly holding their necks in close to their body, while Cranes fly with their necks fully outstretched.

Here’s another fun fact about the White-faced Heron. Until the 1940s the birds were not present in New Zealand, today they are one of the most common Herons in the country. And yet, they are not considered feral. They are classed as a native species, because somehow they self-introduced themselves. That’s right, one day, they just fly across the sea and set up shop in New Zealand, and they’ve been there ever since.

16/04/23

Photo credit:

1: “White faced heron” by jeans_Photos

2: David Byron Keener/Shutterstock.com

3: “White-faced Heron: Floating” by birdsaspoetry

Bird 295 – Red-legged Cormorant

With a distinct lack of Easter cheer, today we meet a Cormorant from South America, but not just any Cormorant. It is maybe the most unusual Cormorant getting around: the Red-legged Cormorant. And I grant you, a Cormorant with red legs is unusual, but that’s only the beginning. The Red-legged Cormorant breaks just about every rule in the Cormorant play book.

So I’m sure you’re familiar with Cormorants. They’re a black and white bird that hangs out near the sea and makes a living diving for fish. And … okay, I admit it, our red-legged friend does this too, but that’s where the similarities end.

The most distinct thing Cormorants do is sit around with their wings outstretched, sunning themselves. They do this because their feathers become easily waterlogged. This helps them to dive and stay underwater, but it also means they need to take time to dry their feathers once they come out of the pool.

But the Red-legged Cormorant is the only that doesn’t do this. Why? I don’t know, maybe their wings are more waterproof? Or maybe we haven’t been watching them close enough and they only do it behind out back.

Their plumage is also odd for a Cormorant: smoky grey instead of black and white. And their eyes have an unusual feature. Take a closer look and you will see that they have green eyes surrounded by a ring of 16 blue spots. That is some serious eye shadow work.

When it comes to nesting they also buck the trend. Rather than the large colonies that most Cormorants favour, these guys nest solo.

They also don’t even sound like a Cormorant. Normally, they have harsh, raucous voices. The Red-legged Cormorant makes sweet chirping noises, almost like a little songbird.

Why are they such strange outliers in the family? I’m not sure, but recent DNA analysis suggests they were the first birds to break away from the Cormorant family tree over 12 million years ago. So it could just be they’ve had more time to work out how to do things their own way.

09/04/2023

Photo credit:

1: Red-legged Cormornat by @earlofclinton

2: “Red-legged Cormorant Paracas Oct 9, 2011.” by Gunnar Engblom (Kolibri Expeditions)

3: “Red-legged Cormorant (Phalacrocorax gaimardi)” by Brendan A Ryan

4: Red-legged Cormorant (Phalacrocorax gaimardi) by Edgardo Aguilar

Bird 294 – Mountain Chicken

A slightly early bird this week, it’s almost like it’s a special occasion. Today we are off to the Caribbean to meet the Mountain Chicken, famous for being the biggest frog in the world. How big does the biggest frog in the world get? About 1Kg, which is one hefty hopper. Now, you might be wondering why this frog is a bird. Well apparently they taste like chicken. It’s a frog that aspired to be a bird, it just picked the lest helpful aspect to replicate.

The Mountain Chicken has an unusual breeding strategy. Rather than laying its eggs in a pond like a normal frog it favours digging a borrow. Males fight for the best muddy pits which they use to attract the females. Once the female lays her eggs she will return to the burrow every now and again to lay unfertilised eggs. The baby tadpoles feed on these until they are old enough to hop away.

Sadly, along with being the largest frog, the Mountain Chicken is also one of the rarest frog in the world. At one time they were common all over the Caribbean, but today they are restricted to Dominica and Montserrat. The cause of their decline is a fungal disease known as Chytridiomycosis. This one fungus has been responsible for massive amphibian population decline the world over, but has been particularly devasting for this avian frog.

There are conservation efforts to save the Mountain Chicken, with captive breeding programs in several zoos throughout the world. There have been various attempts to release frogs back into the environment over the last 15 years, but most of them failed. We will keep trying though to save these chicken-esque frogs.

Now, if you would like more Chicken information, then here is some good news: Part II of our podcast chicken special is now live for your listening pleasure (Apple/Spotify).

I hope you have a very joyous First of April.

Bird 293 – Red Junglefowl

So I assume you’re pretty familiar with a Chicken. There are some 20 billion of them in the world, after all. But are you familiar with the Chicken’s closet wild relative, the Red Junglefowl?

Our ancient ancestors captured and selectively bred these frightfully handsome birds some 8000 years ago, and turned them into the Chicken we know today.

The Red Junglefowl lives in the bamboo forests of south-east Asia. In their jungle home they are protected by the dense foliage, they have an abundance of food, and plenty of high perches to roost on at night.

The Junglefowl still shares many traits with today’s Chicken. They form into flocks that have a strict pecking order. The alpha male is at the top, followed by the alpha female. Then there are the subordinate males and females who all know where their place is.

Junglefowl have a curious habit where during the breeding season they can lay eggs daily. It was this trait that our ancestors took advantage of as a way to quickly breed more and more of these birds. But the reason why the Junglefowl was first domesticated may surprise you. We didn’t do it for the eggs. We didn’t do it for the meat. We did it for entertainment, specifically cockfighting.

That’s right, the whole reason you can order an eggs benny on the weekend is because 6000 years ago people really loved seeing two roosters go spur to spur in a fight to the death.

It would take thousands of years for the chicken to transition from cockfighting badass to the livestock we have today. But that is a rather long (and at times brutal) story.

So you’re lucky that’s the subject of our next two podcast episodes. So if you want to learn more about the Junglefowl, the social life of a chicken and how they were domesticated, then check out Part I of our story on the Chicken.

26/03/2023

Photo credit:

1: “red junglefowl” by Peter Chen 2.0

2: “Red Junglefowl (Gallus gallus) लुईचे” by Creepanta

3: “Red Junglefowl (Gallus gallus)” by Lip Kee

4: cockfight by Amshudhagar

Bird 292 – Knob-billed Duck

Today we’re meeting a duck with a knob on its face. But this duck is no dickhead, it’s the Knob-billed Duck.

This could be one of the most interesting looking ducks. They are large (by duck standards), have a striking speckled head and of course, that unique knob. The Knob-billed Duck has a curious range: they live primarily in sub-Saharan Africa, but also South-east Asia and India. They don’t migrate though, so I don’t know how those isolated populations came about…

Now we should discuss the knob, what’s its deal? Well, it is a common feature of waterfowl, including ducks, geese and swans. Most waterfowl have it. Its technical called a ‘basal knob.’ It’s an extension of the bill that grows at its base. It’s just that on most other birds it is rather understated.

No-one really knows what the point of the basal knob is. But the leading theory is that it serves as an indicator of health or sexual maturity. The Knob-billed Duck is good evidence for this theory, as only males possess the prominent knob, so it is most likely a sexually selected trait. Guess the ladies just really like a large knobbed duck.

The Knob-billed Duck is also a bit of a mystery when it comes to the broader duck family.

Here’s a fun fact. Did you know there are 7 types of duck? Oh yes, ducks are diverse.

Whistling Ducks, make whistling noises when they fly
Shelducks, large ducks often mistaken for geese
Dabbling Ducks, paddle about on lakes, bobbing their head
Diving Ducks, swim underwater
Perching Ducks, like to sit in trees
Sea Ducks, live on the open ocean
Stiff-tailed Ducks … have stiff tails?

Which group does the Knob-billed Duck belong to? No-one knows. It doesn’t seem to belong to any of them. It’s kinda a cross between the Shelducks and the dabblers, but who can say? In the world of ducks, they are a bit of a freak.

19/03/2023

Photo credit:

1: “Knob-billed Duck at Sonkhaliya, Rajasthan, India, July 2013” by Koshy Koshy2: “comb duck, knob-billed duck” by i_c_riddell3: “Knob billed Duck” by Gaurav Naik4: “comb duck, knob-billed duck” by Mary K. Hanson

Bird 291 – Pied Currawong

Today we meet a mischievous scamp, the Pied Currawong. Most Australians who live along the east coast will be familiar with this bird. They are large, black and somewhat crow-like in appearance. They have a thick, heavy set bill, and bright yellow eyes.

Although they look like Crows and Ravens, they are a cousin of the Magpies and Butcherbirds. They earned their name from the melodious ‘currawong’ call they make.

The Currawong is one of our great generalist birds. They can be found in the tropics, in both wet and dry bushland, as well as urban environments. They have done quiet well with urban sprawl, and make a good living in the outer suburbs of our major cities.

The secret to their success is that they are opportunistic feeders. They’ll take anything: fruit, grains, insects, lizards, the odd mouse or two if they can get it. Unlike their Magpie cousins that forage on the ground, the Currawong stays mainly in trees. Because of their different foraging practices the two happily cohabitate the same area without competing with each other.

But, the Currawong does have a dark side. I said they were opportunistic feeders. Well, that extends to one of their other favourite foods, baby birds and eggs.

Currawongs are a great predator of other small birds. They cruise the trees, looking for nests they can swoop into to snatch out babies and scarf them down. In some areas they can be a bit of a problem. Places with a large Currawong population, will usual see a decrease in other smaller birds, like Silvereyes.

So, that’s maybe not the most pleasant habit, but it’s hard to stay mad with a bird with such a scampish mien.

12/03/2023

Photo credit:

1: “Pied Currawong” by James Niland

2: “Pied Currawong (Strepera graculina) by Dominic Sherong

3: frontal portrait of a Pied Currawong by M. Eaton

Bird 290 – Greylag Goose

In all the years I’ve been putting out bird emails I have never featured a goose, so now seems like a good time to rectify the situation. And what better goose to feature than the Greylag Goose.

The Greylag Goose is THE Goose. They have broad range from northern China and Mongolia, across central Asia, and into Europe.

They were one of the first animals humans ever domesticated. They have been with us for more than 4000 years, with records going all the way back to ancient Egypt. The domestic goose has naturally been bred for size, so their wild cousins are a little leaner, and no doubt meaner.

The word Greylag is also a bit of a funny one. It seems that ‘lag’ is an Old English word for goose. They were the Grey Goose, so called because they are a … grey … goose. Of course, what that means is technically we now call them the Grey Goose Goose. But hey, what are you going to do?

One of the more quirky things about Geese is their diet. No doubt you have seen what they eat. They wonder about nibbling on grassy shoots and whatnot. Nothing interesting there, lots of animals like cows and sheep do that too.

Well, yes they do. But grass is notoriously hard to digest. It is nutrient poor and difficult to break down. This is why these grazing animals have complicated digestive systems. They have multi-chamber stomachs and chew cud, all so they can extract as much goodness as they can from the crummy food.

Geese, though, they take a different approach. They go for quantity over quality. They don’t have fancy digestive systems. Instead they eat fast and poop fast. The grass gets one quick pass through the system and then gets expelled. The Goose doesn’t care if it misses some nutrients. Because it eats a mountain of grass it still gets enough to survive. The draw back, though, is that they poop … a lot. Which is why if you ever walk around where Geese have been you will be dodging a lot of little landmines.

To close let me leave you with one thing.

Goose — Geese

Moose — Meese

Choose — Cheese

What is going on with the Goose’s plural?

Ah well, it’s like I always say: what’s good for Goose is good for gaggle.

05/03/2023

Photo credit:

1: “The greylag goose (Anser anser)” by Bernard Spragg

2: “Greylag goose (Anser anser)” by Lip Kee

3: “Greylag Goose, Anser Anser” by Artur Rydzewski

Bird 289 – Miner/Myna

This week we’ve got our first ever doubleheader. That’s right, two birds for the price of one! Ever since I was a wee lad, I’ve notice people frequently confuse these two birds. And when we meet them we will quickly see why the confusion arose, for although their names are spelt different, they are homophones.

The Miner Bird (Manorina melanocephala) and the Myna Bird (Acridotheres tristis). Although properly they are the Noisy Miner and the Common Myna.

On the surface they look similar, aside from one being grey and the other being brown. They’re both about the same size and they’re both from the same order of birds, Passeriformes. However, the Noisy Miner is a Honeyeater, while the Common Myna is a type of Starling.

It’s important to distinguish between the two because the Noisy Miner is an Australian native, while the Common Myna is an invasive species. In fact, it is one of the worst pests in the country. They are sometimes called the cane toad of the skies. And if you’ve ever watched them, they are a thuggish bird. They’re aggressive and push native birds out of their territory and compete for nesting sites. They’ve even been known to push Galahs out of nests.

They were introduced to Australia from India in the 1860s and 1870s to control pests in the Melbourne markets, and they kinda just spread from there. Thankfully, they stay mostly to urban areas, but they’re quite resilient and it’s predicted they could become the most common bird in urban settings from Adelaide to Cairns.

Part of the confusion between the two also comes from the fact that the Noisy Miner lives in the same places the Indian Myna does. It is actually one of the few native birds to have done well from urbanisation. A little too well, though. Because it is also super aggressive and highly territorial.

They live in colony groups and form gangs to defend their territory against anything they see as a threat. Usually that means smaller birds (or sometimes bigger, they’re not too picky). Thanks to expanding urban areas, they have also pushed out a lot of other native birds too.

So… I guess neither bird is all that great, although as an invasive species I’m gunna say the Common Myna is worse. Can anything be done about them? Short of a concerted federal push to wipe them out, probably not. There are many groups who try to trap and remove them from certain areas, but they have spread far and wide.

To help, people can destroy Myna nests on their property and encourage local birds by planting native vegetation, but short of that it seems they are here to stay…

But it is important to remember, these are just birds doing their thing and responding to the environment we people have created. So, really we are the true problem … as always. Woo humans!

26/02/2023

Photo credit:

1: “Noisy Miner (Manorina melanocephala)” by Lip Kee and “Common Myna I IMG 2393” by J.M.Garg

2: “Common Myna” by Koshyk

3: “Not so common myna” by Lip Kee

4: “Noisy Miners, bathing in the roof of Coles Supermarket.” by ATom.UK

Bird 288 – Norfolk Morepork Owl

You’ve got to love an owl that’s asking for a second helping of pork. It’s a bird that really has its priorities straight.

Humorous names aside, the story of the Morepork is one of the most curious in the bird world. It is the only bird I know of that is at once both still flapping around, while also technically extinct. How is that even possible, I hear you say? Well, simmer down, and tell you all about it.

So as you may have already guessed, the Norfolk Morepork lives on Norfolk Island. It’s a tiny spit of land in the Pacific Ocean, about 35 square kilometres, that Australia administers. The Morepork Owl (so named because of the sound it makes), is a close relative of the Boobook Owls of Australia and New Zealand. It does what most owls do, stalking the night in search of little fuzzy creatures to chow down on.

But since the colonisation of Norfolk, the Morepork has suffered massive population decline. This is mainly due to land clearing, and the introduction of invasive animals that compete for nesting sites. But in 1986 the Morepork got about as close to extinction as it is possible to get. There was just a single female left on the island.

Normally, that would be the end of the story. But after testing the Norfolk Morepork was found to be genetically similar to the New Zealand Morepork. So in a last ditch effort, they brought a few males over in the hope that they could keep the species going. And luckily, the birds mated, raised a little family of hybrids, and the species was saved. Today there are still 30 to 40 Moreporks that call Norfolk home. It is the only example of a species that is still considered to exist, even though every member is a hybrid. Every bird alive today is a descendent of those two original birds.

Of course, the story of the Morepork and the other birds of Norfolk doesn’t end there. If you want to hear more, then why not tune in to our latest podcast episode, which is all about the birds of Norfolk. It’s a funny little island, with a handful of colourful characters, live now (Apple/Spotify).

19/02/2023

Photo credit:

1: “Morepork (Ninox novaeseelandiae): NZ native owl. #33 Birds: 52 in 2020” by jpp22

2: “Morepork Owl” by in paradise

3: Norfolk Island morepork owl chick by Parks Australia

Bird 287 – Surf Scoter

I’m not going to lie, the first time I saw this bird’s name, I thought it said Surf Scooter, and I thought damn what a cool name. But no, these seaducks do not scoot over the surf, they scot over the surf … whatever the heck that means.

It is suspected ‘scoter’ is a misspelling of ‘sooter’, which is possibly a reference to their jet-black plumes. But this duck has gone by many names. Some people call it the ‘skunk head’ because of the distinct white stripe on the back of its head. My favourite name though is the one given to them in 1750: The Great Black Duck from Hudson’s Bay… I admit, it is a bit of mouthful, but still, a shame it didn’t stick.

The Surf Scoter is a handsome duck of the sea. Unlike the dabbling ducks we usually see on lakes and ponds, the Scoter lives on the open ocean. They are proper diving ducks.

Males have bright orange and white bills, almost like candy-corn in appearance. They use the striking pattern to impress the lady ducks. But the shape of the bill has been perfectly crafted for hunting. They dive as a flock to chase fish and crustaceous, and they also use their powerful bill to pry muscles from rocks.

Scoter’s are migratory ducks. They nest around Hudson’s Bay in the summer, and move south to the Pacifica and Atlantic Oceans off the coast of the United States to sit out the winter. They don’t spend much time on land. Rather they roost on the ocean over night and move to the shallows in the morning to dive and hunt for their dinner.

Because they live mostly out to sea, or in the remote reaches of Canada, little is known about them. In recent years studies have shown that their population is in decline and no-one is sure why. So a new research project has been kicked off to follow the ducks around and get a better idea of where they go and what environments they rely on. Once we have a better understand of that we can figure out how to protect these beautiful ducks of the high seas.

12/02/2023

Photo credit:

1: “SCOTER, SURF (11-20-07) male -01” by Sloalan

2: “SCOTER, SURF (3-23-10) morro bay, ca -10” by Sloalan

3: “053 – SURF SCOTER (3-9-2018) south coronado bay, san diego co, ca -01” by Sloalan

4: “Surf Scoter” by ~Shanth