Category: Birds

Earlier this month, the forest around Paluma began to ring out with the sounds of a bird that is better known for its distinctive courting area than its plumage or its song. The Tooth-billed Bowerbird or Stagemaker (Scenopoeetes dentirostris) has a noisy and boisterous call although it’s not as distinctive to a casual observer as the circular patch of leaves that it carefully lays out on a patch of forest floor to attract females. This “Stage” is familiar to most people who walk the village trails. One of us (PC) was able to record a particularly vocal individual near Mt Spec Rd.

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The Stagemaker is endemic to highland rainforests of the wet tropics, and is the only member of the genus Scenopoeetes. While it is common within its range its restricted distribution and dependence on highland rainforest means it is considered near threatened on the IUCN list of Threatened Species.

During the winter months, it feeds mainly on leaves and stems. This is an unusual diet for an arboreal bird. Only 3% of bird species eat leaves, which are not very energy-dense, and require large volumes of material to satisfy their energy needs. The toothed profile of the bill (from which its common name is derived) is believed to be an adaptation for cutting leaves and stems (for both food and stage displays. During the mating and breeding season when more energy is needed for display, defending stages, egg production and feeding of young, Stagemakers switch to a diet of fruit and flowers, supplemented with insects.

Stage production, display and nesting commence with the onset of fleshy fruit production (August to September) and displays stop with the onset of the wet. The stage, or court is first cleared of leaf litter by the male and then decorated with leaves from a few species of tree, which are all carefully turned so the paler underside is facing upward. The stage is carefully maintained by the male to ensure the leaves are properly orientated. Stages are clustered in an area with stages separated by 50-68m. Males are long-lived and return to clear the same stage every year (over 20 years in one case). Adjacent males compete for suitable leaves and will steal from the stages of other birds.

Each court has an adjacent display tree the male uses to announce its presence. Its song can include mimicry of over 40 bird species, frogs, and even fruitbats! The recording above appears to be the native call rather than a mimic. Once a female has been attracted to the stage, the male descends from its perch to display and entice the female into mating. The female builds a nest in a tree nearby and appears to rear the young unassisted.

Stagemakers are currently considered to be Bowerbirds, but the lack of a true bower constructed from twigs, and the lack of different plumage between males and females led some taxonomists to initially place these birds with the closely related catbirds (Genus Ailuroedus) within the overarching Family (Ptilonorhynchidae). More recent genetic research suggests that the Stagemaker is a distant relative of the maypole building bowerbirds (e.g. our local Golden Bowerbird), but it has traits that suggest it might have evolved separately from both groups, or a primitive form of catbird.

Much of what we know about the ecology and biology of the Tooth-billed Bowerbird has come from research conducted around Paluma. The preponderance of these studies were carried out by Cliff and Dawn Frith, who lived in Paluma and have published both scientific as well as gorgeously illustrated popular books on Bowlerbirds, Birds of Paradise and general rainforest natural history.

Text by Jamie Oliver ; Photos as indicated

Many of the rainforest trees at Paluma are presently providing a bounty of fruit for many species, especially pigeons. As is their lifestyle, large numbers of Topknot Pigeons (Lopholaimus antarcticus) are here taking advantage of that seasonal abundance. They are big pigeons and fly particularly high above the canopy, sometimes singly, or in pairs or flocks. 

Finding them parked up somewhere easy to photograph is a rare treat and I managed to grab two shots of one sitting high in a flowering Buckinghamia behind our deck. Despite the 500mm lens the bird occupied only a small part of the frame but when cropped I was delighted to see it carrying a twig in its beak. Clearly it was going about nest building.

Yesterday a female was sitting high in a quandong behind our back yard when it was joined by a male who pressed close and then began to bob its head deeply to its chest and bounced upright again. This went for a while until they both flew off together.

If courtship and nesting are successful they’ll produce just one nestling after about three weeks which will be fully fledged around a month later. Both parents incubate the eggs and feed the young, using regurgitated “pigeon milk” from their crops in the earliest stages. It takes both parents to keep up the supply of pigeon milk, explaining why only one egg is laid.

Text and Photos by Peter Cooke

Topknot Pigeons are most often seen in flight, usually in flocks high over the forest, says the Birds of Australia guide by Campbell et al.

And that’s how we mostly see them during their nomadic and sporadic visits to Paluma when then the time is right to find their favourite food plants fruiting. So it was a big surprise for Tracy Cooper on her way to work at the dam last week when she came across this big pigeon perched on a fallen branch beside Mt Spec Road.

She stopped and walked back, hoping to get a picture but expecting the bird to fly off. It showed no disturbed reaction to her approach to about a metre away and she was able to get these great pics. It showed no visible sign of injury or illness, other than being close to the ground and being undisturbed by people approaching.

Tracy’s colleague saw it separately on the way to work and it was still there on the same branch in the afternoon when he dropped some fruit of Ficus destruens beside the perch. The next morning it was gone.

Topknots (Lopholaimus antarcticus) may be seen singly or in pairs or flocks high above the canopy when they aren’t feeding or nesting in the canopy.

The Atherton Tableland, Paluma and the Lamington Plateau are good places to see them say Campbell et al but single rare migrants have been seen even in Tasmania.

Topknot Pigeons have lost much of their rainforest habitat to clearing, but have compensated by feeding on the introduced tree species Camphor Laurel and they may spread this unwelcome weed into agricultural areas.

Although the Paluma bird looked perky enough, being out of the canopy and not being frightened away by people does suggest it wasn’t well.

Australia is worried about new variants of avian flu arriving here from wild birds coming in from overseas. Birds have been coping with, and developing some resistance to, bird flu for thousands of years but the virus may mutate from common strains in domestic or commercial flocks when passing back to wild bird populations. A new variant may be catastrophic for wild bird populations.

People are being asked to report sick birds. “The following are indications that a bird may be sick or injured: The bird is quiet, dull, the eyes may be closed, and it has fluffed feathers (the bird looks “puffed up”). It may have an obvious wound, breathing problems, a drooping wing, or show lameness or an inability to stand. It does not fly away when approached.”

Even though this bird looked pretty perky Tracy and colleague were wise not to handle it.

Photos by Tracy Cooper. Text by Peter Cooke

Some additional comments from Jamie:

The topknot pigeon is endemic to Australia and is fairly common in rainforests and wet sclerophyll forest along the entire eastern coastal ranges. In flight their size and distictive white tail band help in identification, while when perched the fluffy brown swept-back crown is diagnostic, bringing to mind aging rockstars or a past US president whose comb-over got blown back in the wind.

While Paluma is best known for its montane rainforest, the village itself has quite substantial open cleared areas that support plants and animals that are more characteristic of open forest and heathlands. One of the birds that falls into this category is the White-cheeked honeyeater (Phylidonyris niger). It is one of the most common birds around the village, feeding on Calistemons, Banksias and Grevillias, but is mostly absent along the forested village tracks. This delightfully plumed, energetic, gregarious and vocal small bird always raises my spirits as it flits among the small trees and shrubs and trees in the front yards along the main road. As a scientist, I’ve been trained not to anthropomorphise, but I always get the feeling that they are cheeky and irrepressibly cheerful animals.

The White-cheeked honeyeater is an Australian endemic with two distinct populations (subspecies) in eastern and southwest Australia. Its plumage is unmistakable with its black head and eye patch, brilliant white cheek and forehead and yellow wing patch. Its principal habitat is open forests and wet heathlands where it feeds mainly on nectar-producing native plants with insects acting as a supplemental source of protein and other essential nutrients. In Paluma it can be a regular visitor to bird feeders that offer a bit of liquid from ripe fruit or commercial nectar substitutes. Despite its relatively small size, it can be quite fearless in chasing off other large honeyeaters, especially when part of a feeding group. I have had over 10 at my feeder on occasion.

Breeding can occur throughout the year with a peak in winter. Cup-shaped nests are built by the female in lower tree branches and shrubs as well as in grasses.

The White-cheeked honeyeater was first named in 1811 and placed in the genus that includes tree creepers. This miscategorization was remedied in 1830 by Renee Lesson who coined the genus name Phylidoneris from its (supposed) similarity to Friarbirds (genus Philemon) and Sunbirds (genus Cinnyris)

Text and Photos by Jamie Oliver

One of the first rainforest birds I encountered when I first visited Paluma in the mid 70’s was the ubiquitous Lewin’s honeyeater (Meliphaga lewinii). One was picking up crumbs from my scone at the Ivy cottage, while others were foraging in a bottle brush for insects or nectar from the flowers. At that stage I was confident in my identification, armed with a first edition of Slater’s Field Guide and assurances that no other similar species existed this high up on the range.

Virtually any bird-feeder in the village with fruit or other food on offer will attract these friendly and distinctive birds. The soft olive upper plumage, streaky breast and prominent yellow ear patch easily mark them out from the white-cheeked an Macleays honeyeaters that also do the rounds on village feeders. However, for dedicated birdwatchers keen to build an accurate list of bird species they have seen, life is not so straightforward. It turns out that there are two other species of yellow-eared honeyeaters that look almost identical. In some areas they don’t overlap with Lewin’s since they prefer low altitudes, but in Paluma the slightly smaller Yellow-spotted honey eater (Meliphaga notata) is recorded as a fairly common resident, while the even smaller Cryptic Honeyeater, Microptilotis imitatrix, (previously considered to be the Graceful Honeyeater M. gracilis) is an occasional visitor. While there are small but generally reliable differences in size between these species, and local but variable differences in plumage, some experts consider it impossible to distinguish between these species with 100% accuracy based only on field observations. Luckily their calls are very different. Lewin’s main call is a rapid monotonic staccato; the Yellow-spotted has a less rapid repeated call with varied pitch, while the Cryptic has a totally different non repeating call. Check out the calls recorded by Andree Griffin in Paluma many years ago to see if you recognise any of them. Lewins call should be very familiar. Based on these calls I know for certain that many of the birds at my feeder are Lewins, but while I have definitely heard the Yellow-spotted while out on walks I have never actually seen it call so I am reluctant to record this species on my life list.

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Lewin’s Honeyeater is named after John Lewin and the path to this bird’s current name is somewhat twisted. Lewin was an English-born natural history artist. He arrived in Australia in 1800 but despite his artistic skills, his books were not sufficiently popular to provide a livelihood for him and his family. However the then Governor of NSW (Macquarie), recognizing his potential to contribute to the colony, appointed him to the position of  city coroner in order to provide a guaranteed income. His first book on birds (Birds of New Holland, 1808) included a new genus proposed by him: Meliphaga, derived from the ancient greek words meli (honey) and phagos (eating). This genus later lent its name to the entire family of Honeyeaters (Meliphagidae) which contains 174 species and 44 genera. The 1808 book included an illustraion and description of Meliphaga chrysotis (now M. lewinii) but in a later taxonomic revision in 1837, it was given a new name and genus which honoured Lewin’s contributon to Australian ornithology: Ptilotis lewinii. Finally, a later taxonomic review decided that it really belonged back in the genus Meliphaga and we arrive at its present name of Meliphaga lewinii.

Lewin later published a book concentrating on birds of the colony (Natural History of Birds of NSW, 1813). This was the first illustrated book published in Australia, and is now  among the rarest Australian books. A third edition of this book (1822) can be yours for only $75,000 – A bit more than the wage of a humble city coroner in the 1800’s! First editions are considered unprocurable at any price.

Text and photos (unless indicated) by Jamie Oliver

Over the wet season at Paluma a cohort of male Victoria’s Rifle Birds went through big changes in appearance and behaviour.

Until they are four or five years old the male rifle birds are almost indistinguishable from the females of the species with elegant but muted plumage in various shades of brown, buff and cream. The change to fully male appearance and behaviour may not be fully complete until their sixth year.

The changes here took place over a few months as the young males replaced their demure female plumage until becoming fully fledged males clad in velvety black with iridescent neon blue caps and throats with a layered “skirt” in a colour that’s a bit hard to call.

As the change approaches male birds still in female plumage begin practicing their display routines, marked by a progression of vocalisations, postures and movements performed usually atop a broken off vertical tree or tree fern.

The first stage is to call from the display perch and expose their yellow gape to attract attention.  Victoria riflebirds make a sound like “yass,” and once a female arrives at the display site, the second stage involves the male turning to face the female, raising his wings above his head to form a circle, again exposing his gape, and raising and lowering his body on his legs. If a female approaches, the male begins the third display stage directly in front of the female described as an “alternate wing clap”, lowering one wing and hiding his head behind the other and then switching from side to side in quick succession.

If the courtship reaches a mutually agreeable conclusion it is left to the female to undertake all nest construction, incubation and feeding of the nestlings, usually two in number. Incubation lasts 18 or 19 days and then the young are fed by the female for a couple of weeks. The nestlings become fully independent of mum after about 10 weeks.

But the subject of this post is the progression of the change to adult male plumage, with a number of individuals photographed over a period from early January until early March on our back deck next to the Rainforest Track (Soon to be named the Hyland Track). By March it seemed all the cohort had completed the change.

Here’s a selection from the fascinating passing parade since late December. Click on any photo to see a larger version.

The transformation of this cohort seemed complete by late March. The Australian Museum says the breeding season runs from August to February but before then you can still expect to see plenty of practice displays.

When showtime arrives, we can expect displays including these poses below, photographed on 28 March.  

Text and Photos by Peter Cooke

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Some further facts from Jamie Oliver: 

Our rifle bird in Paluma is one of just  three species in Australia, but it’s a member of a rich and fascinating family of “birds of paradise” (Paradisaeidae) which is comprised of 45 species in 17 genera.

Outside Australia they are only found in PNG and eastern Indonesia. Most of the overseas species are confined to rainforests and they are even more spectacular in their plumage and their displays which serve show off that splendour to prospective mates.

A “fascinating factoid” about birds of paradise is how they got their name. Reference to paradise in their name originates from a mis-interpretation of preserved specimens – Wikipedia states:

This species was described from specimens brought back to Europe from trading expeditions in the early sixteenth century. These specimens had been prepared by native traders by removing their wings and feet so that they could be used as decorations. This was not known to the explorers, and in the absence of information, many beliefs arose about them. They were briefly thought to be the mythical phoenix. The often footless and wingless condition of the skins led to the belief that the birds never landed but were kept permanently aloft by their plumes. The first Europeans to encounter their skins were the voyagers in Ferdinand Magellan‘s circumnavigation of the Earth. Antonio Pigafetta wrote that “The people told us that those birds came from the terrestrial paradise, and they call them bolon diuata, that is to say, ‘birds of God’.” This is the origin of both the name “bird of paradise” and the specific name apoda – without feet.

Wikipedia – https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bird-of-paradise

Footnote from PC: Wiki uses the language of colonisation and empire to tell us that the Victoria’s riflebird was “discovered” (my quote marks) by John Macgillivray for John Gould in 1848 and is named after Queen Victoria of the United Kingdom. The common name “riflebird” comes from the likeness of their black velvety plumage to the uniform of the British Army Rifle Brigade.

So far haven’t been able to source any indigenous knowledge from the original discoverers of the VRB.