To celebrate the first of August, I decided to go for a walk. This is the first walk I have done since I broke my hip on 30 May, so it was a bit of an adventure. Usually, I walk every day. I don't go far: I walk for half an hour. In Kew, I had four different walks I did in turn. Here, in Warrandyte, I live on a dead-end road, so there's no choice. I have only one walk: up the road and back again. Today, my half hour walk took me just over 35 minutes (and I paused to take a photo) so I was very pleased with my first effort.
I went early, hoping to avoid the dog walkers.
As I locked my front door (hardly necessary, but force of habit) I heard Striated Pardalotes calling from the gum trees. I had a quick look, but they proved elusive. Truth is, I wasn't game to go bush bashing. I'm used to hearing Spotted Pardalotes here, the striated ones are not quite so common.
Then I was greeted by a magpie, then a beautiful Sulphur-crested Cockatoo landed right beside me and raised his magnificent crest just to show it off. A Crimson Rosella called, but would not show himself.
Somehow the hill has become more steep in the few weeks I've been absent. I struggled on, being serenaded by Red Wattlebirds and Magpie-larks. A distant kookaburra laughed at me. Fair enough, I did look pretty funny. Then the world was taken over by Pied Currawongs: dozens of them, whistling and calling from the treetops. I was surrounded. There was no hope of seeing or hearing anything else.
They had quietened down a little by the time I turned the corner. A Grey Butcherbird sang his musical song. These birds I hear often, but I see them less frequently. This morning I was lucky. The butcherbird sat in the sunshine, singing his heart out.
I heard ravens too. When I was in Kew, I would have happily written down 'Little Raven' but some spoilsport told me there were just as many Australian Ravens as Little Ravens in Warrandyte. I believe him, but I can't tell the difference. Unless I see the Little Raven flip his wings when he alights, there're all just ravens to me. I know Australian Ravens have gular hackles, but I can't see that as they fly overhead. Other birders can tell the difference by their calls, but I'm afraid this eludes me.
I could hear Noisy Miners, but wasn't altogether sorry that I couldn't see them. They remain just occasional visitors to my property. Long may it stay that way!
I'd seen just one other walker by the time I turned for home. Two cars had driven past. Two pairs of Galahs flew overhead, calling in case I hadn't seen them, followed quickly by a pair of Rainbow Lorikeets. I like having these colourful parrots in small numbers. They haven't taken over here, as they have in some suburbs. Near the bend, someone had put a teddybear into a tree, bringing a smile to my lips, something we need more of in these troubled times.
I was nearly home when pair of Eastern Rosellas flew into a nearby tree, adding a splash of colour to the morning.
Back at home, the pardalotes had stopped calling, so I didn't feel obliged to go bush bashing. Instead, as I unlocked my front door, plovers called from the river, adding Masked Lapwing to my list.
Not a record breaking list, but I'm pleased to say that there were no exotics on it. I usually have Common Mynas along my road, and the other day I heard a Spotted Dove calling. Today, they were all natives. I recorded just 14 species, not counting the unidentified raven. I probably would have seen the same number in Kew, but there certainly would have been a few exotic species there.
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