Backyard Zoology · 5 February 2021
2021-02-05T17:30:12+11:00
https://www.facebook.com/backyardzoology/posts/pfbid02ukQRcnPc4wq3dCuGDEutXRrCo3XeWHjPJMDHzeAjgTFwsDTXrnpvGzm8wfTpAzH4l

I mentioned yesterday about an unexpected visitor (thankfully, not of the human variety). There's been a lot of commotion from the local Kookaburras lately. They're territorial birds so they're always laughing and hooting away, yes hooting, as in almost like a chimpanzee! It's the strangest sound. Anyway, I learnt the hard way about a week ago, that I should always grab my camera when I hear them really starting to go off. 

You know that something is really up when you have multiple birds all ramping up the volume and chortling together, especially when you see Kookas flying in from all over the place. That normally means that they're wanting to put on a unified display and so it's good to go and suss out what's happening. So last week, they all started up and I was sitting outside, in my little side garden and I was relaxed. I mean, relllaaaaxxxeeddd. Okay, we were having a glass of wine BUT that's not the point. The breeze was gently blowing past us and the gums trees were swaying in the good way, not the scary way and there were bees and it was just all round lovely. And frankly I didn't want to move. 

But seriously these Kookas would all meet up on one thick branch and throw their heads back and then one would fly to a tree not far away, the rest would follow and the loud calling would start up again. Finally I got up, slowly made my way to the end of the drive, only to witness two Kookaburras tackling a third to the ground! Trust me, at this point it's way too late to even think about getting the camera. So after frantically screaming at Matt to come and look all we could do was stand back and watch. They tussled once more before separating and flying off in different directions - a young male stumbling into the wrong territory perhaps?

But anyway. I tell you that long story to justify my now ridiculously anxious response to any mass calling by the Kookas, which is to drop everything and to run in their general direction, camera in hand! And that's what I did yesterday as a very serious commotion unfolded across the road. 

Firstly, the Kookas started up. And they were flying in from everywhere, hooting and calling and piling up, 5 birds on one branch at one point, heads back, volume up. At the same time I heard the Black-Faced Cuckoo Shrikes and they too started calling, their trilling call at first and then something much different, obviously a call of distress. And soon enough, I saw them too amongst the shadowed gully, flying from tree trunk to tree trunk. A few thoughts were running through my head at this point, one of which was trying to work out exactly why these two bird species would be facing off at all, let alone so frantically. 

And then down on the floor of the forest I noticed the slightest movement. I should have looked there first really, all of the birds were looking downwards and swooping down towards the ground. But this was truly unfolding so quickly. Even through squinting eyes I couldn't distinguish anything in particular, it was all shadows and the colours of the rainforest, greys and browns and that deep, lush green. It wasn't until I put my camera to my eye that I saw what had taken place and the reason for the distress of the local birds: a Collared Sparrowhawk was standing on top of its freshly killed prey, a grey bird, its wings fanned out, angel like. Wow!

Thinking back I've seen the Sparrowhawk's silhouette amongst the sky every now and again. It's accompanied by shrieking alarm calls of other birds as it circles over head and then heads into the canopy. I wonder exactly how many birds have fallen prey to this silent killer. And now I'm wondering if perhaps it was the Sparrowhawk and not the Powerful Owl who killed and ate our Tawny. They normally prey on birds around the size of a pigeon or a bowerbird but it makes sense considering the area looks to be its primary hunting ground. 

The birds eventually went quiet, or not quiet as such but back to their usual lives. It was weird. It was almost as if once they knew that the snatched bird was dead, they stopped the assault on the Sparrowhawk and left it sitting on the ground, one foot still very firmly on its prey's chest. We watched a little longer before it lifted up, the bird (which looked pretty large) held tightly in its talons and flew into the bush where, despite our efforts to find it again, it was quickly swallowed up.

Collared Sparrowhawk
Northern Illawarra