September Meeting:
Wednesday, Sept. 25th.
Meet at 7:00 PM
in the Bean Museum Auditorium on the BYU Campus.
We will tour the Pheasants and Waterfowl of the Word exhibit
being
shown at
the Bean Museum.
September Field Trip:
Hawk Watch and Warbler search
Saturday, September 21st.
Meet at the Sam's Club parking lot in Provo (near the University Exit
to I-15) at 7:00 AM. We'll return around noon. Should be fun!
“MY SWANSONG”
from a Birdbrain to all you Wise Old Owls
by Tuula Rose
FOREWORD: I have always marveled at the rich variety of idioms in
the
English language and the ability of native speakers to “pun”
spontaneously.
Indeed, if you are lucky to get a couple of punners in the same vehicle
on a
long birding trip you can get a duel going for the merriment of all.
Since
this linguistic phenomenon is rare in my native tongue I lack the
ability to
do it on the spot and off the cuff like some of you do so well. It
must be
in the genes.
Thinking about this a while ago, I started, just for a lark,
jotting
down every idiom and saying that came to mind having to do with birds.
Surprisingly my list soon grew to three figures. Here is an effort to
put
some of them into a narrative. It is pure fiction and any similarities
to
real persons near and dear to us is accidental. Especially it is not to
be
taken as autobiographical (please!). I had a hoot doing this and hope
you
get a chuckle or even a cackle out of it.
Phoebe Martin was excited. She had just checked the Birdline and
Chuck
Wills reported seeing an Eared Quetzal, her nemesis bird. She had
goose
bumps thinking that this time she might succeed, but she had to hurry.
No
time to check the mailbox this morning. It would most likely be bills
and
more bills anyway. She looked in the mirror while tying her lucky scarf
into
a big red knot under her chin. She noticed how the little laugh lines
around
her eyes were rapidly turning into sizeable crows feet and how her
formerly
smooth swan neck now sported a healthy wattle. That Dove soap was not
living
up to its advertized promises. She had to admit she was no spring
chicken
anymore but she still resented the nickname the girls at the club had
given
her. They called her a tough old bird behind her back. Enough to
ruffle
anyone’s feathers, especially when they all looked like pigeon-toed
scarecrows themselves. But she better not brood about that, not today.
Too
nice of a day to feel henpecked.
She grabbed her binoculars and practically flew down the front
steps.
The neighbor kids were flocking in her front yard, flying a kite. It
soared
for a moment and then came down in a tailspin. She had to duck down
fast to
avoid being hit on the head with this strange UFO. She almost ended up
spread eagle on her own lawn. The kids were hooting and hollering,
disappointed with the near miss. “You all deserve to be tarred and
feathered”, she jokingly yelled at them. “You’ll end up jailbirds for
the
rest of your lives!” They just laughed and challenged her to their
customary race down the sidewalk, her waddling, the girls goose
stepping,
the boys at turkey trot, accompanied by the loud “ruff, ruff, ruff” of
Mr. McGillivray’s golden retriever. “ The last one to the corner is a
rotten
egg!”
She loved these kids and had them at her house often for Orioles
and
milk, Mother Goose stories and Roadrunner cartoons. Sometimes she’d try
to
sneak in a video of Swan Lake or the Nutcracker Ballet, but they
preferred
the old Partridge Family tapes she had saved from when her own children
were
young. The stork had visited their family five times, bringing four
girls
and a boy. The three older girls, Lucy, Grace and Virginia were
exceptionally good singers. Her youngest, Anna and her son Allen didn’t
sing
too well, but they would hum along anyway. Allen was an eagle scout and
ruled the roost among the children. Now that they were all gone from
under
her wings, having the neighbor kids around eased the pains of her empty
nest
and kept her from going cuckoo in the loneliness.
Her husband Jay had flown the coop three years ago leaving her
to
wing it on her own. He had been hatching his plans for his adventures
around
the world for months without even a peep about them to her. From the
way he
was preening himself while dressing that last morning, she suspected a
hot
young chick to be waiting for him somewhere. Phoebe got a peck on the
cheek
and a postcard from Turkey two weeks later saying that he was happy as
a
lark and not to worry. The nest egg they had been saving for 30 years
would
take him to all the wonderful places he had dreamed of. Phoenix,
Arizona
just didn’t cut it for him anymore and he felt pigeonholed at his desk
job.
She could keep the diamond solitaire neckless he had almost taken with
him.
This crazy stint of his had been hard for her to swallow. She was mad
for
having been left to be a single parent cold turkey like that. If anyone
ever
asked her how she had met her husband she would say that she had won
him in
a contest. He had been the booby prize. He knew his goose was cooked
and he
would be a sitting duck if he ever came back to town, which he was most
likely too chicken to do.
Phoebe looked across the street to see if her friends were
waiting.
She craned her neck to see past the parked cars before crossing. She
didn’t
want to get a ticket for jaywalking. Chuck Wills was there with Dick
Cissel.
She was glad to get a ride with them since her old Thunderbird finally
bit
the last cloud of dust last winter. It had been a dream car in the days
of
LBJ and Ladybird, and Bogie in the Maltese Falcon at the drive-in, but
turned into a booby trap in its later years. Dick and Chuck were hard
core
birders and had years of experience. In fact, to Phoebe they started to
look
like birds themselves. Chuck somehow resembled Big Bird in his yellow
rain
gear and Dick was a spitting image of the spokesman for Aflac in his
white
down jacket and orange baseball cap.They headed down south on the freeway chatting away about the
possibilities of getting this bird. “Are we going on a wing and a
prayer for
another wild goose chase, or can you pull this off for me?” Phoebe
asked. “I
think they are nesting so we have a good chance” replied Dick, “but
don’t
count your chickens before they hatch.” He had been nicknamed Hawkeye
after
he earned his wings in the last birding contest. “It will be another
feather in your cap” she said, feeling goose bumps again. She hoped it
was a
good sign.
FIELD TRIPS
by Bonnie Williams
I have been thinking a lot about all the Field Trips I have been on and
what
I would do if I had to choose a favorite. I would have to consider all
the
owling trips, the one up Lake Fork when all we saw was a Poorwill (the
only
one I have ever seen) or the trip up Payson Canyon with the whole
string of
cars. It is no wonder we never saw the owl when the owl saw all those
cars.
I couldn't leave out Zion's Canyon owling trip or our trip this summer
when
we (I should say Dennis) found the Flammulated Owl..
I don't think I will ever forget our trip to Grand and San Juan
Counties
Where we saw lots of good Birds, had lots of laughs and our short-cut
road
that ended at an oil well. then to add to all this fun was the
beautiful
Redstart with the setting sun shining through its wings.
I remember when the Utah County Birders first started and we would all
pile
in Robins big van and go on lots of field trips. Then there is Antelope
Island, Ouray, Lytle, Fish Springs, Tempie Springs, Deseret Ranch, Big
Day,
Willard Bay and Our Boat ride at Strawberry to name a few I remember
the
times we ate together at Pack Creek Ranch near Moab, Bumbleberry Inn
near
Zion's or the carol Nelsons Café in St. George. The highlight of one
trip
for me was when we went to church together in Blanding.
I am glad I don't have to choose a favorite or make a top ten list
because
they have all been fun fun fun!
The Great Australian Birding Adventure
by
Ned C. Hill
Part 6 (Conclusion): Kiama and the South Coast
This is the sixth and final part of the birding adventure 15 Utah
County
Birders experienced in eastern Australia during two weeks of August,
2001.
In this part we head south through Sydney and conclude our adventure by
exploring the coastal and inland areas around Kiama.
South through Sydney
We awoke to a cold morning in the shearers’ quarters of Southampton
Station,
a sheep ranch in the Australian “outback” or at least as close as we
would
come to it. The proprietor, John Nixon, had built a roaring fire in the
common room fireplace. Although there was frost on the grass, John told
us
he had seen only about two snowfalls in his seventy years here. We ate
a
hearty breakfast and loaded our luggage into the trailer. The day was
spent
driving over rural roads to the coast and then down the freeway towards
Sydney—all through lush green, rolling countryside. Well-kept farms
dotted
the land interrupted by eucalypt forest and fingers of ocean that
penetrated
inland at various places. Wind and rain showers punctuated the day. So
far
we have been fortunate in that our birding days have been perfect. We
stopped a few times to stretch and have lunch but the birding was
difficult
in the wind. At one park we found one new bird, a Red Wattlebird—a
common
resident of the southern coasts and another of the honeyeater family.
By mid-afternoon we crossed the famous Harbor Bridge into downtown
Sydney,
catching a glimpse of the remarkable Sydney Opera House. We learned
there
were no freeways leading around Sydney—the road traveler must go
through on
slow city streets. In a rare deviation from Richard’s usual custom, we
stopped at a McDonalds for a snack. We arrived in Kiama, near the
industrial
city of Wollongong about two hours south of Sydney. All of us were
amazed at
Richard’s skill in backing the bus and loaded trailer from the busy
street
down into the narrow driveway next to the apartment complex. We checked
into
some very nice apartments where, for the first time, we had TV and
could
watch CNN and catch up on the outside world.
Kiama, Bomaderry Creek, Bass Point and Windang Beach
The forecasted rain did not materialize but the wind was still strong.
We
decided to do our mainly coastal birding today and hold our forest
birding
tomorrow with its lessening chance of wind. We stopped briefly at the
bay
around which Kiama is situated. We saw some Australian Gannets over the
water and then spotted a Hump-backed Whale just a few hundred yards
out. As
we got the scope on the huge animal, we saw a second, smaller spout—a
calf
became visible by the side of the larger whale. What an unexpected
treat!
We drove down to Bomaderry Creek State Park, a top birding spot on the
south
coast. Just from the parking lot we found several honeyeaters before
breakfast: Yellow-tufted, White-naped, and Yellow-faced were almost
abundant—all very strikingly beautiful. Some saw Red Wattlebird for the
first time. Roz had prepared a full English breakfast for us after our
initial birding. We then went to search for the specialty of the
area—the
only endemic of New South Wales: Rock Warbler, a small brown and
rust-colored bird that nests in the rock walls. Some of our group
remained
on some benches above the canyon while the rest of us followed Roz and
Richard down into the shaded gorge. We thought we heard the bird
several
times but could not find one. We managed to see a number of birds we
had
seen before but not the target. Of course, as often happens in the
birding
world, the outcome was unexpected: Those who rested on top saw at least
four
of the warblers much to the consternation of those who huffed and
puffed
their ways into and out of the canyon.
We then went to Bass Point Reserve, a point of land that sticks out
into the
ocean. Along the rocky shore, we found Eastern Reef Heron and Sooty
Oystercatcher. We also spotted shearwaters flying low over the waves.
We
could see some white and black on them—Richard said they were likely Fluttering Shearwater. As we ate lunch,
Superb and Variegated
Fairy-Wrens were common in the grass around us. They have become our favorite
little
jewels. A Red-whiskered Bulbul sang from a bush near the picnic
area—the
same species that was successfully introduced into Florida.
At Windang Beach Richard spotted a Double-banded Plover, a migrant that
winters here away from its nesting grounds in New Zealand. The beach
also
held Kelp Gull, Red-capped Plover, Black Swan, and White-necked Heron
among
the usual cormorants and shorebirds. The tall grasses near the beach
usually
harbor Golden Cisticolas, small sparrow-like birds, but the high winds
kept
them low and out of sight.
After a great dinner at Silo’s, we turned in, looking forward to our
final
day of birding in Australia.
Jamberoo, Barren Grounds, and Budderoo NP
We were sorry to leave these very nice and comfortable apartments. But
we
had planned some exciting birding for our final full day of our great
adventure. The day was perfect—no wind or rain. We drove up to
Richard’s
home on Misty Lane in the woods above Jamberoo—a small town in the
hills
west of the coast. Claralyn and I had stayed here with Richard for
three
days of birding in 2000. That was where the idea for this excursion was
hatched. Large trees and an abundance of birds surround the yard: Bassian
Thrush, Pied Currawong, Crimson Rosella, Rainbow Lorikeet, Eastern
Whipbird,
Brown Cuckoo-Dove, and many more.
After breakfast, we drove a few miles up to the Barren Grounds Reserve,
a
large wooded and grassy area created by Richard over a period of eight
years
for the Australian government. The tracks (trails) through the area
often
produce the rare Eastern Bristlebird but we failed to even hear one—the
first time Richard ever struck out on that species on this track. We
did see
a striking Beautiful Firetail, many New-Holland Honeyeaters and got
glimpses
of Southern Emu-Wren.
We drove to the bordering Budderoo National Park. In the low grasses, Southern Emu-Wren were easier for the group to see. We formed a long
line
across a tall grass field and started walking from one end to the
other.
Suddenly a greenish parrot was flushed and flew low with frantic wing
beats
off to the side. It was difficult to find the Ground Parrot. Most
parrots,
of course, are tree-dwellers. This one spends most of its life hiding
in
thick grassy areas. Its close cousin, the Night Parrot, is thought to
be
extinct. The body of one was found a few years ago in Queensland so
Richard
and other birders have spent many nights trying to find a live one—no
success. After the excitement of finding the Ground Parrot, Richard
spotted
a beautiful Scarlet Robin for us, one of the most desired birds of the
trip.
We got to see a male in full breeding plumage. We stopped at Carrington
Falls—and we thought we had a Rock Warbler on the rocks below. It
turned out
to be a White-browed Scrub-Wren, a more common bird.
Stopping back at the Barren Grounds headquarters, we purchased some CDs
of
Australian birds and other momentos of our trip. Outside, we heard a
Pilotbird but did not manage to get it to come out in the open for us
to
see.
Minnamurra Rainforest
After lunch back at Richard’s we drove a short distance to the
Minnamurra
Rainforest. The walk through the main trail went along a creek
surrounded by
huge trees including gigantic Strangler Fig. In the creek we found
several
Waterdragons. After much searching, we finally spotted our target, the Superb Lyrebird—a very unusual bird that can mimic the song of almost
any
other bird of the forest. Some people even claim it mimics songs of
man-made
things but these assertions may be exaggerated. The bird was scratching
around in the leaves and let us get very close. Yellow-throated
Scrub-Wrens
were following closely benefiting from the insects scared up by the
Lyrebird. We also heard the characteristic call of the Wonga Pigeon but
failed to see one. As we were gathering to board the bus, four more
Lyrebirds were just off the parking lot—amazing to see them so close
and
unafraid. Richard heard the call of a Rose Robin again but we searched
in
vain.
Homeward Bound
We bade farewell to Roz—our talented cook, driver, fellow birder and
new-found friend. Richard drove us into the heart of Sydney where we
checked
into a hotel for the last night of our great adventure. Richard and Roz
had
worked very hard to make our trip a success. They had attended to our
every
need during these two weeks. The flight back to the US the next morning
was
strange indeed—we actually arrived in San Francisco (after a 15-hour
flight)
a couple of hours before we left Sydney. Of course, the International
Dateline helped with that magic. We had seen 260 birds—most of them
lifers
for those who had not been in Australia before. And we had visited some
of
the most beautiful parts of that great country. We had become better
friends
with each other and had taken away memories that will linger in our
minds
for decades to come.