The Spotted Catbird (Ailuroedus maculosus) is an unmistakable part of the soundscape of upland rainforests in northeast Queensland. Its eponymous call is indeed very catlike, but despite its aural ubiquity it is rather secretive and is frustratingly difficult to spot in the foliage of the middle forest canopy.
It took me many visits up to Paluma after I first arrived in Australia to finally spot the bird that I had heard repeatedly on every visit. Now that I have a house in Paluma with a bird feeder, I get great views every morning.
This main call is used by a mating pair to establish and defend a territory.
Spotted Catbird territorial cat-like call (recording by Andrée Griffin
Pairs and groups also communicate with each other using a softer single-note call that is often heard but seldom associated with the catbird to non-birders.
Spotted Catbird single note call and other growling calls (recording by Andrée Griffin)
The Spotted Catbird is one of 10 species of catbirds (genus Ailuroedus), which can be found only in New Guinea and Australia. Two species are endemic to Australia (Spotted and Green Catbirds), while a third occurs in the Cape York rainforest and New Guinea.
Like our previous bird of the month, catbirds belong to the bowerbird family (Ptilonorhynchidae). However, unlike all other bowerbirds, they are much less flamboyant in both their plumage and behaviour. Catbirds have a relatively subdued colouration, usually a mix of green on the back and cream to tan mottling on the undersides, with males and females looking alike. They also eschew the hectic and showy romantic antics of other male bowerbirds that build elaborate bowers or stages and compete fiercely to attract multiple mates. Instead, catbird males are monogamous (stick with a single partner) and share parental duties at the nest.
The Spotted Catbird eat mostly fruit supplemented by insects – and the occasional nestling or eggs of smaller birds. Like other bowerbirds, they are very long-lived, with one tagged individual recorded over 19 years! They live mainly above 900m and are relatively sedentary, travelling no more than 2km (typically 70m) to forage for food. Pairs of birds defend a territory of about 1.6ha during the breeding season (August to March).
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.
Male calling from its display perch above the stage. (Photo by Peter Cooke)Tooth-billed Bowerbird display call recorded by Peter Cooke
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.
Cropped image showing toothed indentations on the upper beak (photo by Peter Cooke)Tooth-billed bowerbird display court, Birthday Ck Falls. Photo by Russel Cumming on Flickr
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.
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.
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)
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.
Both of these visitors to my feeder are probably Lewin’s Honeyeater.
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.
Lewin’s Honeyeater; call recorded by Andree GriffinYellow-spotted Honeyeater (photo courtesy Wikipedia) Call recorded by Andree GriffinCryptic (formally Graceful) Honeyeater (photo courtesy Wilipedia) Call recorded by Andree Griffin
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.
Plate from Lewin’s 1808 Birds of New Holland, showing Melliphaga Chrysotis (sic). It was renamed Ptilotis lewinii in 1837 then reassigned to Meliphaga lewinii after a subsequent taxonomic review.
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
… AND there’s visual proof collected from camera traps set up in a range of places in the forests in the Paluma Range area. Please read Wren Mclean’s (project leader and researcher) update on data recently analysed.
A multi-year study of the cassowary across Paluma Range is underway and has returned some exciting early results with images of at least 7 individual birds so far. On the tail end of the Wet Tropics, the Paluma Range holds the most southern population of these iconic, cryptic, assertive and very cool birds. These ancient ratites are the original rainforest gardeners, having evolved to their current form 50 million years ago! They have spent that valuable time in symbiosis with the rainforest, consuming the fruits and dispersing the seeds of rainforest plants. They depend on the rainforest and the rainforest depends on them.
A male cassowary captured on one of the ‘camera traps’ in the Paluma Range.
Having lost a majority of their rich fruiting lowland rainforest habitat to human endeavours, sadly, our much-loved Southern Cassowary is an endangered species. Some inhabit poorer fruiting high altitude forests and those that remain on the lowlands are susceptible to road strike, dog attack, pig competition and the challenges of habitat fragmentation.
We can rejoice that cassowaries are breeding in the Paluma Range with a pair of stripy chicks accompanying their Papa in November and two young sub-adults travelling together in December 2023.
We know cassowaries here are in low density but was this always the case? More information will help us put the pieces of the jigsaw together to understand their seasonal habitat use, whether there are threats we don’t understand and actions we can take to secure cassowaries for the long-term.
There’s cassowaries in dem dere hills, but are they using the lowlands and coastal vine thickets? A citizen science program is calling out for any historical or current sightings or signs of cassowaries from on, or below the Paluma Range.
Two sub-adult cassowaries captured on a ‘camera trap’ in the Paluma Range area.
Please record your sightings on this URL https://arcg.is/1vjLaq or by scanning this QR code.
One of my favourite common birds along the village tracks and gardens is the Brown-capped Emerald Dove (Chalcophaps longirostris), often simply referred to as the Emerald Dove. It is most conspicuous when taking flight from the ground to stay ahead of walkers on a track or cars on the range road, when the flash of its leaf-green holders catches your attention. It spends most of its time on the ground searching for seeds fruit and insects. It is not too perturbed by humans and often prefers to simply walk away. I have one or two doves in my garden that regularly lead the way as I stroll up my drive-way.
Photo by Brian O’Leary
Emerald doves are usually monogamous and form long-term pair bonds. The male has a distinct white shoulder patch and a small grey patch on the crown that are mostly lacking in the females. They breed at the end of the wet season and build a simple stick nest 5m up in the trees.
When it feeds quietly on the ground it is often inconspicuous, only revealing itself when it takes flight with a flash of its emerald wings. (Photo by J. Oliver)
The Brown-capped Emerald Dove was originally considered to be the same species as the Common Emerald Dove (Chalcophaps indica), which is found in SE Asia (with a rare subspecies on Christmas Island). Some bird field guides still refer to our species as C. indica.
Macleay’s Honeyeater (Xanthotis macleayanus) is one of Paluma’s most common birds in our gardens and at feeders. While it eschews the dramatic displays and gaudy colours of some of our other regulars around the village, dedicated observers grow to appreciate its soft pastel colours and tartan pattern. It is also special in being one of 13 bird species that are endemic to (only found in) the Wet Tropics. Its distribution extends from Paluma range in the south to Cooktown in the north.
In the forest, Macleay’s Honeyeater is found mostly in the forest canopy where it forages for a range of insects and spiders (its predominant food) as well as nectar and fruit. It is most abundant at lower altitudes, but you would never know it from the vantage point of a typical porch in the village, where it is one of the most common visitors at feeders and is easily encouraged to eat from a hand. In town, it will eat a variety of food on offer although providing processed food to native wildlife is never a good idea.
Macleay’s Honeyeater commences breeding in September. Nests are generally located in very dense vegetation in the canopy (7.5m and above) but occasionally lower. The female is the primary incubator of the eggs, but both parents feed the young.
The genus Xanthotis is derived from the Greek xantho (yellow) and otis (ear) which is a distinctive character of this species. Both the common name and scientific name also pay homage to Sir William Macleay (1820-1891). He was a Scott who emigrated to Australia as a young man. After achieving financial security as a pastoralist (and through marriage) he became a politician and then spent most of the rest of his life indulging in his passion for natural history. He was the founding President of the Linnean Society of NSW, a prolific author, a generous patron of the sciences and an avid collector. His collections were donated to the University of Sydney after his death and formed the basis for the Macleay Museum.
The scientific name is sometimes written as Xanthotis macleayana but this is an error and also a faux pas. Those readers old enough to have taken Latin in school might recognise that the suffix “ana” is used to denote female characteristics whereas “anus” is masculine. I doubt very much that Sir William identified himself as a female!
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.
21/12/2301/01/2409/01/2409/01/2409/01/24 This youngster quite betwixt and between09/01/24 a more precociously advanced young bloke01/02/2402/03/24
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
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.
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.
