Wild Emus at The Lilly Pilly Tree

[briefvisit]

https://vimeo.com/1084125982/2586be1ef8?ts=0&share=copy

Several days later, Sandy still figgerin' wheat

 

[AntiqueB]

What was that bird?

Sandy is a bit. . . slow on the uptake, as they say. He must be very wary, not to follow Undersized Emu to the wheat, which she clearly enjoys.

 

[briefvisit]

Sorry, the bird in the background in the Vimeo just above is Sandy

 

[briefvisit]

'Sandy is a bit. . . slow on the uptake, as they say. He must be very wary, not to follow Undersized Emu to the wheat, which she clearly enjoys.'

I'd have to think over how long it takes prospective consorts to figger out the wheat thing, but a little slow, yes.

 

[AntiqueB]

I meant the flying bird.

Sandy is definitely a little sandier. It's interesting how they have subtly different shades to their feathers.

 

[briefvisit]

'What flying bird?'

Sorry. My posts are ahead of my brain. It's a Muir's Corella, a smaller version of a cockatoo. The sun flashes on the bottom side of their wings as they come over at dawn. We need a better clip.

 

[briefvisit]

Photos later today.



It’s two days since we’ve seen Undersized Emu and her new consort, Sandy.

So, here’s our wild guess at the logic:



with eight weeks to go before mid-winter’s day, U.E. was unattached. She was getting a handful of wheat here and there, and grass if plentiful.

But the moment she attracted a consort, the equation changed. Running away from the breeding-pair in exchange for Yummy wheat is not a reproductive strategy.

And she and Sandy may pop up again tomorrow, but . . .



U.E. understands clearly that she and her consort just can’t go head to head with a breeding-pair that has spent months staking out the house-clearing. So it makes perfect sense for her and Sandy, with grass and water plentiful, to move forthwith, to find territory of their own to stake out in the precious remaining weeks before matings/layings/nest-making might begin.



And this is one sad reality of our observations here: our subjects come and go, including the members of Eric’s family. We’ve only seen Felicity three days in eight years.

 

[AntiqueB]

I wonder why. They know food is plentiful there, and they must know where the house-clearing is. It strikes me as strange that they don't return more often, especially as food becomes more scarce in other places.

 

[briefvisit]

'I wonder why. They know food is plentiful there, and they must know where the house-clearing is.'

Good question, and for a change, we think we know the answer. Think back to the posts about the distances that emus travel -- either Dads with clutches, or mobs, or individuals, or breeding-pairs.

Suppose AntiqueB Emu crosses for the day to the National Park -- now that's only a half a mile from the house-clearing. But suppose she/he bumps into a mob crusing through. She joins up with them, and at dusk, they all move into the bush to roost.

Now, if she follows this group the following day, she may be four or five miles from the house-clearing by the second dusk. Again, she/he roosts with the mob.

This is good and natural. Emus love to 'shmooze' with other emus. But at this point, coming back here for a bit of wheat is too much of an investment.

Now, Felicity Emu was once absent for four-and-a-half years. So we presume that she got a long long way away.

Here in closing is another perspective on this:

an emu or pair or other achieves 'an orbit.' That is, for some time, that emu does a certain daily 'round' of pastures and water, including perhaps the house-clearing here.* They may stay in that 'orbit' for literally months -- as when Eric brought his clutches here for the plums.

But then, for whatever reason, an emu 'breaks out of their orbit.' They may be away for a week or a year, or we may never see them again.

*There's another house-clearing, you know, across the road, on the old Oudman place. It's not as good as here, but it does have pasture and permanent water and a little fruit to scavenge.

SE

 

[briefvisit]

Big Noooz!!

Both yesterday evening and this morning, Offsider – the female – turned up alone. So: a process of elimination:



One: aliens kidnapped Limpy Chick (the male of the breeding-pair).

Two: he left – but why would Offsider not be with him?

Three: the pair’s calendar has gone seriously wonky, and Limpy Chick is sitting on big green eggs . . . seven weeks before time. Bear in mind that we saw a mating eleven days ago.



So, we are flummoxed, and it’s raining. The best ‘we’ can do is put a little wheat out, and sit unobtrusively at a distance, in the hope that Offsider – who according to the literature may head bush forever at any moment – will come and go repeatedly in the same direction, as she checks in on Limpy Chick.



We had a quick look (in the rain . . . ). As the kids say, ‘OMG OMG!’ Sooooo many gum trees!



SE