Planet Rothschildi

[Tame Emu Guy]

What a wonderful day!!

Is there anyone with the skills required to make one of those little ‘flow chart’ diagrams with arrows and labels? If we could find a quiet corner of BYC? Maybe we could construct a chart of all this.

The world ‘plumulaceous’ (I must find an opportunity to use that word in town: ‘Yes, what splendidly plumulaceous this ice-cream is!!’) made sense to me because of the description of the cassowaries ‘feathers,’ which are rather like quills.

Could we fit in a ‘data box’ for each species? I think ostriches share the incubation. Kiwis are nocturnal. The tinamou, for example, belongs to a 'sister' group of the ratites. The moa belongs on the chart.

And this guy below? Yeh, I can see emu in him!!

 

[Tame Emu Guy]

It’s worth mentioning that the truly tame birds here, Greedy and Felicity (and the one I lost, Number One) weren’t brought here by Eric until they were about six months old. That means that Alpha and Omega, Eric’s present clutch, are the first chicks that I have had a chance to observe at this age:

I lost sight of Eric Plus about a half a mile south of the house at about eight a.m. They re-entered the clearing – from the north – around three. Even allowing for plenty of grazing and rests, it seems that these chicks are walking about five miles a day!

A friend of mine is a vet, and I asked her about the eat ‘n pooh discussion. She agrees with our logic: emus aren’t nocturnal. Wandering around at night can’t be too logical. It may be that birds with food ‘to hand’ (wa ha ha) will eat ‘n pooh more; but if wild birds withdraw to starvation scrub, then it's hard to see how they'd be eatin'-poohin'. Hence the lack of blessings at the roosts that I find.

Supreme Emu

 

[Tame Emu Guy]

Vocal Co-operation, the ‘Vigilance Network’​

The ‘vigilance network’ is in two parts: the flying birds, and everything else; and I’m not sure whether it’s all ‘co-operation’ or just co-incidence.
It is just not the case that S.E. is trying to get the drop on emus. Rather, S.E. needs to get the drop on the Australian bush, a network of dozens of eyes and ears, all evolved to provide warning of what a predator does, which is exactly what I am trying to do.

The Flying Birds:

the emus are sort of free-loaders on the vigilance system of the flying birds in that their calls don’t help the other birds much, but the emus themselves clearly benefit from the vigilance of the flying birds, particularly the muir’s corella, the ring-necked parrot, and the kookaburras (I guess there are more that I am ignorant of). It works thus:

at any given moment on, say, a large pasture frequented by emus, there is a ‘vigilance network’ operating. I can describe only the part of which I have a teaspoon of insight. Certainly it is much larger. Let’s say there is a pair of kookaburras and a scattering of ring-necked parrots and, over on the far side, a number of muir’s corellas sitting in the uppermost branches of a dead gum. Let’s say there is a pair of emus grazing on the pasture.

I suspect it’s no accident that the corellas are sitting on bare upper branches. They are ground feeders. (It’s delightful to see them – if you can manage it – feeding next to emus.) And I think that the bare upper branches are the best look-out spot for them if they are disturbed. I think they reconnoitre an area from their lookout, then descend to feed. Once disturbed, they retreat to the lookout, and make an unholy ruckus. At length. They will even follow you around, flying from tree to tree above you in order to let the world know you are coming. Once you’ve been busted by the corellas, you might as well go home! [I remain ignorant of the different types of calls, the ‘language’ of the various birds; but I do strongly sense that their calls are generally ‘softer’ when they are unalarmed, and ‘harsher’ when they are vocalising warnings. Any thoughts on this?]

The kookaburras are much more subtle. They sit stock still for long periods. There is usually a pair of them, and usually each of the pair sits at a different point overlooking the pasture. Now, they don’t vocalise if they see Mr. Clumsy sneaking towards the pasture. They just leave, but the emus certainly note that. A kookaburra makes an investment in waiting motionlessly by a pasture, and if it leaves, there must be a reason.

The ring-necked parrots are . . . hmmm . . . I’m still working this out; but I have seen this: emus grazing quietly under the lilly pilly tree. Ring-necked parrots call in alarm. Emus storm out from under the tree (where their vision is limited by the branches), to see what is going on. So, I’m sure enough that the emus are attuned to these parrots.

The Kangaroos (and?):

the other section of the vigilance network is the kangaroos. The emus and roos are in competition for grass (though the roos don’t eat a lot of other emu food), so there’s no logic in active co-operation; but an emu too dumb to be alarmed by the flight of the roos grazing around it is an emu not long for this world.

There are far far more roos than emus – which benefits the emus. Moreover, the following happens all the time: suppose there is a string of small pastures separated by strips of blue gums. Thus, each pasture is invisible to the next. Mr. Clumsy is approaching one pasture, on which there are roos but not emus. The roos bolt, away from Mr. Clumsy, and across the next pasture. Now, if there are emus on that next pasture, they may not also bolt; but you can be assured that they are alerted.

The ‘thud thud thud’ of a big boomer’s passage is audible a mile away on a still day. Thus, spooking a mob of roos on one pasture can alert to your presence all the denizens of the bush within an area of a mile square in front of you; and of course, ‘in front of you’ is the direction you are going! You can’t observe behind you. Thus it may be – somewhere like Oudman’s is a good example – that you have walked at length through bush to get to within ‘sneaking-distance’ of a pasture that you want to observe. Then you run into a mob of roos just a hundred yards into the gums of Oudman’s, and they scatter wildly over a 180-degree vector. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200!!

Now two terms: firstly, ‘embedded’: if you can get to a spot overlooking the pasture you want to observe, you sit down and be quiet (I sometimes read, though I find the business of scanning to be quite soothing, and, on big pastures, like the swamp paddock, you really need to scan at length to figure out what is going on).

Then, over, say, the next half hour, some kangaroos arrive, and perhaps a pair of kookaburras. You are now ‘embedded,’ which means that you are within the area of the vigilance network, but have not ‘set if off.’ This means that any wild emus that might be approaching the pasture will continue to do so – thus my adage: Let them come to you. The disbenefit of this success is that once you are embedded, you have to stay still; and if a half a dozen roos plonk themselves down on the grass just thirty yards away, you must remain perfectly still.

Second Term: ‘collapsing observation’:

this happened this morning. I came quietly around a ‘corner,’ and headed down to a small pasture near the house. It’s a favourite pasture of mine. It’s beautiful – but it’s hopeless to observe on, and here’s why:

there is a block of scrub obscuring most of the actual pasture as you approach it on the only track, and trying to approach it from any other direction is ludicrously difficult because it is surrounded by a belt of blue gums. You just can’t approach a pasture through blue gums.

This morning, I had already ‘set off’ a mob of corellas on the pasture behind me. They were obliging the citizens of the bush by shrieking and carrying on in a big gum just behind me, so I stopped for a couple of minutes.

Then I started quietly forward again. Then I stopped to put drops in my eyes. When I looked up, I saw three wild birds feeding in the open, in plain sight of me, to one side of the belt of scrub. Now, in such a position, readers, you are ****** if you do, and ****** if you don’t. If you stand still, they are sure to see you. If you move, they are sure to see you. The best bet is to crouch slowly down, and try to slink out of line of sight, then work it out from there.

This I did – which then means, if the birds have not vocalised, that you don’t know if they are still there, or if they have bolted. Sometimes you can hear them bolt. Sometimes not. Thus, you may diligently spend a half an hour or forty minutes creeping up on birds that are miles away.

Conversely – because at this point they have been alerted twice, by the corellas and by having seen you disappear – if you don’t then continue with maximum caution, they will surely bolt at the sound of a single dry leaf crunching.

Anyway, I started scanning through the binoculars, and saw three birds moving away (not quite running) down a track. That would normally mean that you’ve blown it; but by this time you are close to the pasture, so discipline dictates that you sit down for a few minutes, and quietly scan and listen. While doing that, I saw, at about eighty yards, a flash of sunlight reflecting off the bluey-silver of a wild bird’s neck – there were still birds on the pasture! (Not the same flock, guys! Two small flocks close to one another on the pasture. One flock – three birds – had scooted off. The other had stayed.)

Now, at this point, I decided to come home for coffee. It would have taken me a half an hour to crawl on my hands and knees though the scrub, to try to gain a vantage point; but the chances were slim simply because of the nature of the scrub: it’s patchy; it’s full of ‘sliver gaps.’ Basically, this means that you won’t be able to outsmart the network. Even if you stop and scan a dozen times, it’s almost certain that, as you move, one of the emus (or a roo or a corella . . . ) will spot you before you spot it.

One more possibility warrants mention: suppose you are moving quietly through the bush, down at the nursery, perhaps. You hear a bird vocalise (so there is more than one). You sink quietly to the ground (and check that you are not on an ants’ nest. Feel free to laugh; it has happened.). Now, if the birds don’t bolt, they will probably continue to vocalise – because they have been alerted. So, you can sit stock still, and listen and scan. If you are lucky, when the birds do come into sight, they may not notice you. (It took me some time to learn not to carry a white book or an orange cushion, or to wear a bright scarf. I now dress all in brown and black.)

This situation can result in really good observations – close observations. Although the birds are alerted, they carry on quite normally (and you can try to decode their calls).

What fun!!

Here below is a picture of the band of scrub at the pasture. There are one or more wild birds on it. But they aren't visible.







Supreme Emu

 

[Tame Emu Guy]

[Minimal posts for a while]

Hmmm . . . I wonder if that greedy Greedy Emu has finally outsmarted herself?
A pair of birds has been sneaking about the clearing. I’m pretty sure the male is Speckles. I’ll need to get close in good light to ascertain it’s him.

If it is Speckles, it would be a first: Greedy has brought a consort, and he has become a little tame – got a taste for wheat.
Then, somehow – knowing Greedy, who knows! – Speckles got dumped; got another female . . . and brought her to the house-clearing. Wa ha ha!

S.E.

 

[Tame Emu Guy]

Eric ranged about the house-clearing with his three chicks this morning: Alpha, Omega, and Supreme Emu. That Other Pair was here early. Still didn’t get a look at them, but Eric was ready to whup them. At one point, he stood tall for a few seconds, staring in their direction, then rushed off that way, then stopped. The chicks stormed along behind, the largest of them fumbling with its binoculars and camera.

I will keep observing this new phase – and it is new. We’ve not yet seen a male with chicks involved in much pecking-order drama. (How come I don’t recall this from when Eric was here with F. and G. and Number One?) What territorial ‘deals’ are struck between an ‘encumbered’ male and other emus?
Are deals struck? Is Eric, for instance, actually encumbered? Or is he even more dangerous than usual? (‘Dangerous’ seems a reasonable word to use. Felicity came home with blood all the way to her ankles.) At first glance, it seems like fifty-fifty: Eric will let foreign birds get away with more than usual ‘cause he’s busy parenting. By the same token, they had better not push their luck!


I didn’t mean to be cheeky when I used the word ‘operational’; but you can’t help but notice it: these chicks aren’t waiting to be big so they can wade into life. They are operational! Eric waded into the five-six-seven-feet-deep block of scotch thistles yesterday (he looked like an emu head on a stick moving about), so the chicks waded in as well. They disappeared completely, then got smart and withdrew.

Do your birds jump? Mine regularly jump a foot and a half or two feet to score fruit. Over and over again. It’s the very first thing I want to capture when I have better equipment. After patrolling the house-clearing, we all went back to breakfast. Here below is Eric with his head in a fruit tree. Sometimes, when you come out to look at the fig tree, all you can see of Mrs Eric is her toosh sticking out. There’s a bush here through which an old grape vine runs, and I’ve seen Mrs. Eric drive shove her way right into it: both fresh and dried grapes are Yummy for emus.



The photo below was taken from the door of the living-room.



S.E.

 

[Tame Emu Guy]

A Houseful of Observers​

My health frustrates me (you may have noticed). Just imagine . . .

If we could get all of you here for, say a fortnight (with competent avian managers minding your own flocks), we could achieve a very great deal.

I would give you a little orientation talk, so that you would understand just what is around you: old farmhouse, plenty of water, few facilities, no interruptions. We would make a big map out of paper, and stick it on a wall. I’d give you some tips on observing.

Then we’d discuss goals and strategies. All the ‘work’ will be undertaken in the sunshine, sometimes sitting on a cushion, sometimes roaming for hours through the Australian bush, learning to recognise birds and other life forms. Long naps may be necessary, or a swim in a dam. Sometimes you won’t hear a person or vehicle for hours on end, indeed, in some places, at all. (You can take the ‘south track’ into the N.P. behind Oudman’s if you like. In four years, I’ve never seen a vehicle out there. It comes out at the coast, forty miles away. Take sandwiches and a hat.)

One: ‘back of Oudman’s’: want to volunteer for four or five consecutive pre-dawn excursions to map the movement patterns of wild birds? and locate roosts? On the way back, you can wander about a couple of thousand acres of typical observation country: scrub, aisles of gums, the pasture at Oudman’s, the dams.

Two: want to spend long hours sitting in the sunshine at the Top Corner, watching the swamp paddock? From whence the birds that graze there? And where do they retire to roost? Can you learn to locate a roost just from the lay of the land?
For variety, you can make forays east along the fence line, even down as far as the river if you like (where there is a range of other bird life). You can check the ‘islands’ for roosts, observe any birds you see, check fences for crossing points, and check out the National Park scrub on your right.

Three: someone shall observe patiently and at length in the house-clearing. Which birds come and go? (You’ll get practice in recognising the known wild birds.) What do they eat? What is in their blessings? How do they interact?

Four: another biggie: across the river to Stinky Creek: what is the density of the wild emu population there?
Can you identify any movement patterns? You will see mustangs over there. If you have a good sense of direction, you can push on through to the east or south east, and see what you can see. You should find other pastures.

Five: Gold Star Observation: anyone who can get a photo of a bird on the second little pasture down behind the house gets a gold star for their forehead. It’s only a half a mile, but you will need to apply all your skills to get close enough to photograph a wild bird on this particular pasture.

Six: Excursions with Felicity. Firstly, make friends with Felicity – about ten minutes and a teacup of sultanas. Then fill your pockets with wheat, and see how far you can travel together, and what happens on the way. This is a soothing and productive modality. I have been as far as the river with her – about two miles out the front gate. You can watch her graze in the bush.

Seven: there will be a day outing to Byanup Lagoon, one of the most beautiful places in this state. You will see mustangs at close range, an immense array of wild birds, including black swans, sea eagles, large flocks of dromaius novaehollandiae, and a nesting wedge-tailed eagle.

Eight: if we bribe Ken, and swear never to tell the route, we might get to The Secret Lagoon. I’ve only ever been there once. Words fail me. It’s both exquisite and isolated. It has a white sand beach a half a mile long.

(The currency in this district is beer, and if you pay Ken in the local currency, he might even take you into The Big Green. He was riding his trike around the edge of it in 1965 -- literally: it technically starts at the end of my drive, and he was living here then.)

Nine: would you like to try to comprehend the Original Swamp? Make a map of it? And deliver one evening a talk on the life of prehistoric emus? It’s about a ten- or twelve-mile walk all the way around it. You can go into it as well.

Ten: each afternoon, we shall all sit in the garden with a bottle of currency, and discuss emus while watching them graze at the fig tree.

S.E.

 

[Tame Emu Guy]

Eric is regular now. Twice a day. The chicks are really getting to like the wheat. Growing so fast! Going to black-head phase, the line on the neck is so clear.

Summer is [put something literary here]. No, really, it gets hot and dry. 110 degrees.

The nursery’s pasture is done; the chicks have moved on. You can see before your eyes, over mere days, that the ‘low’ pastures, the ones that retain water better, stand out green, and the gum tree leaves already almost crunchy brown dry.

S.E.

 

[dak]

 

[Tame Emu Guy]

New (male) Vocalisation:

Over about a hundred yards, moving from the lower pasture to the house-clearing, Eric emitted long-ish quiet ‘rumbles’ or ‘guuuuurrrks.’ They clearly meant, ‘Okay chicks. No biggie, but we are headed this way.’

The chicks are getting older and bolder, more comfortable with being further away from dad. I watched them cross an area of fallen timber and then rows of gums. They are negotiating this terrain easily now.

Eric is surprisingly noisy in the gum litter – I suppose he’s a heavy bird!

S.E.

 

[kbgh]

Mark,
I thought you took a break, BYC quit telling me you added posts and I knew you had a couple of doc visits.

Glad I finally got notified.

I love reading your ramblings and observations.

If you are sending tickets to potential fellow researchers, I didn't get mine yet.

You know i am

to get to visit Oz, but alas finances won't alllow me.

So, I guess I'll live and see Australian and the bush and emus through your eyes and obversations.

Kerry