Cartwheels and company: the young eagles

It’s hard to keep your eyes on the road sometimes, crossing Dyarubbin – the Hawkesbury. For those not entranced by the scene of early-morning fog spilling down the gullies in Marramarra National Park, there’s the raptor action. If you were heading north on the Peat’s Ferry Bridge about 6.30 on Sunday morning, for instance, you would have seen these two young sea-eagles eagles just a few metres above the freeway.

I caught sight of them first from afar, tumbling and whirling.  The cartwheeling argument was brief but emphatic – a couple of lunges at each others’ talons – one bird upside-down – as they fell from the sky.  Then abruptly it was all over.  The two flew off companionably through the mist,  pulling up in a tall eucalypt on the shores of Spectacle Island.

Needless to say, I did a U turn in my kayak and went to have a better look.

Two youngsters.  Siblings, I thought – hanging out together, just like the collared sparrowhawk fledglings we watched grow up in our backyard a few years back.  What a wonderful omen for the new year! The plentiful rains of La Nina and their fecundity – an explosion of spring wildflowers, new growth on all the trees, insects everywhere – and also this – two chicks from one raptor nest!  Sea-eagle parents is lucky to have one  chick make it each year.  Two fledgelings defeating death – what a thing to see!

But then I noticed their bellies: the tan-coloured torso of the eagle on the left – much lighter than the brown chest feathers of the other youngster.  Fledgelings are a dark brown colour and over three or four years, as they mature, their plumage slowly changes to  the eponymous white belly and crisp grey wings of adults.  These two were definitely not nest-mates.

So what was going on here?  Training flights? Teen romance?  Territorial aggro?

A cursory read of accounts of sea eagle behaviour suggested that the mid-air argument I saw by the freeway is a characteristic courtship display.  But sea eagles are only mate at adulthood – some distance away for this two.  Plus there’s some controversy over the received wisdom about romantic cartwheeling flights.  Some researchers say raptors are more likely to be aggressive than sexy when they get into these mid-air tumbles.  And sometimes – although less often – this kind of in-flight wrestling is simply play (Simmons, 1993, 17).  There’s not much aggro going on here – or it doesn’t seem like it to my untutored eye.

So if they weren’t courting and didn’t seem to be competing over territory, what were these two eagles doing hanging out together?

I wondered at first about co-operative breeding.  Quite a few Australian birds have offspring that don’t disperse straight after they’ve left the nest, but stay with their parents and help to raise their siblings in subsequent years.  A few species raptors do it too, at least occasionally – including some hawks and eagles – with immature helpers and sometimes even unrelated adult birds helping build nests, defend territory or feed chicks.

There’s some debate about whether young white-bellied sea eagles leave the territory of their parents at around six months old or hang around for a few years before heading off somewhere new. When I say controversy, I mean a mild-mannered, ornithological debate conducted on paper – not a gun fight at ten paces.  But regardless it seems a bit unlikely that I saw co-operative breeding in action.  . Unlike other co-operative breeders raptors tend to have adult helpers. And teaching younger raptors aerial skills isn’t something I’ve read in the chores of “helper” in cooperative breeding set ups, though maybe it happens!

Big mixed groups of adult, immature and juvenile sea eagles have been seen in some places, like Jervis Bay, south of here, particularly in autumn.  Researchers have have compared this behaviour to the large congregations of Bald Eagles in the US, which gather to take advantage of an abundance of prey.  Jennifer Spencer and her colleagues conclude groups of white-bellied sea-eagles are “unlikely to be permanent associations [but] they may have an important social role as conspecifics were frequently observed engaging in mock attacks and courtship displays (Spencer, 217).  Perhaps something like this – though a bit more socially distanced – was going on here on Dyarubbin.

A while back, Steven Debus, who really does know his raptors, observed “for its size, appearance, and abundance on the densely human-populated coasts of south-eastern Australia, the White-bellied Sea-Eagle Haliaeetus leucogaster is remarkably little studied” (2008,166).  But I bet someone out there knows these two youngsters were up to.  If you’re a sea-eagle watcher and can fill in the gaps – drop me a line!  I’d love to know.

And, in the absence of an evidence base of any kind, I’m going to take the cartwheels and the company of eagles as a sign of good things for the year to come.

More about eagles I’ve met on Dyarubbin

The very big fish

An eagle in suburbia

Paper roads, private rivers

Encounters with eagles

The great war and rubbish

 

References

S J S Debus, (2008) “Biology and Diet of the White-bellied Sea-Eagle Haliaeetus leucogaster Breeding in Northern Inland New South Wales” Australian Field Ornithology 2008, 25, 165–193

T.E. Dennis, G.J. Fitzpatrick and R.W. Brittain (2012) “Phases and duration of the White-bellied Sea-Eagle Haliaeetus leucogaster breeding season in South Australia and the implications for habitat management Corella, 36(3): 63-68

Terry E. Dennis, Rebecca R. Mcintosh & Peter D. Shaughnessy (2011) Effects of human disturbance on productivity of White-bellied Sea-Eagles (Haliaeetus leucogaster), Emu – Austral Ornithology, 111:2, 179-185

Rebecca Kimball, Patricia Parker and Janes Benarz (2003) “Occurrence and evolution of cooperative breeding among the diurnal raptors”
The Auk 120(3):717–729, 2003

R. E. Simmons & J. M. Mendelsohn (1993) “A critical review of cartwheeling flights of raptors”, Ostrich, 64:1, 13-24,

Jennifer A. Spencer & Tim P. Lynch (2005) Patterns in the abundance of White-bellied Sea-Eagles (Haliaeetus￿leucogaster) in Jervis Bay, south-eastern Australia, Emu – Austral Ornithology, 105:3, 211-216

The trouble with the younger generation

It’s not often that the stars are in alignment for a midweek paddle but occasionally it happens.  Children elsewhere, being forced to make music for 48 straight hours; the car (or “kayak transportation device” as I prefer to call it) sitting there unused and no pressing work engagements before 9 am on a Wednesday morning.

Berowra Creek was delightfully quiet, save for a handful of tinnies bearing estuarine commuters towards the wharf and the road to the big smoke roundabout 7 o’clock.  I guess that’s rush hour on the Hawkesbury.

Ferry lights closer crop

Pre-dawn rush at the Berowra Creek ferry

A peaceful river, low tide… time for the shy critters to come out of the mangroves and feast in the mud.

Juvenile Striated heron hunting silhouette with catch brightened

Juvenile striated heron with a tiny fish

I go past the mouth of Joe Crafts Bay quite regularly.  It’s a magical place, blessed with reflections and rolling fog, and a secret creek filled with darting fish.

Towards Joe Craft bay

Looking to Joe Crafts Bay on a misty day

I’m always expecting to see something exotic there, like the critically endangered Eastern Curlew, visiting Australian coast during the northern winter after an epic migration from Russia and western China.   Mostly I see bird-shaped sticks.  But on this quiet morning, what I initially suspected to be a stick turned out not one, but two striated herons.

Juvenile striated heron profile in water 2 amended darkened

Juvenile striated heron pretending no one is looking

It’s pretty unusual to get a good look at these birds, described on one twitcher website, unnecessarily cruelly I think, as “a dumpy little heron with a large head“. Or if you were really mean you might describe it as a dumpy little heron with a jack-in-the-box neck.

Juvenile striated heron alarmed lightened 2 amended square

Juvenile striated heron with neck stretch

I normally spot striated herons only after I’ve already bugged them enough to burst out of their hiding places in the mangroves and fly off, disgruntled, down the river.

Striated heron stretching

Adult striated heron perching at high tide

They are not given to making a lot of noise and hunt stealthily, perched on a low branch over shallow water or creeping along the shoreline looking for little fish, crabs or crustaceans.  Interestingly, they sometimes also fish with bait – dropping a feather or leaf on the water to lure fish to the surface to investigate.  These birds seem to be quite smart  – researchers have even recorded youngsters playing with bugs, fruit and pieces of wood – perhaps practicing for bait fishing.

But for all their creativity, young herons like most juvenile birds, seem to be a little bit slow on the uptake when they unexpectedly encounter a mammal in a boat.  And long may that stupidity continue.

Juvenile striated heron from behind square and lightened

Pensive looking juvenile striated heron

There was also an adult bird on this particular mudflat, clever enough to stay a lot further away.

adult striated profile crop

Adult striated heron, macroryncha subspecies

And while the adult wasn’t incredibly impressed with me being in its territory, it was really very pissed off that it was having to share its patch of low tide real estate with a young heron.  According to the International Union for Conservation of Nature’s Heron Conservation group – an impressively specialised body – African striated herons are so determined to defend their territory that you only find a couple of individuals in a 13 kilometre stretch of river.  Our aggro Aussie adult, true to form, went after the youngster no less than three times while I was watching, chasing it off the prime spots on the mudflat with real venom.

Adult straited chasing juvenile crop long

Adult striated heron chasing off a juvenile off his feeding grounds

Not so the adult could hunt.  Oh no. Youngster was finding fine pickings.  But having cleared him out, the adult heron did this:

Nada.  Played a game of statues. Or maybe pretended to be a stick for the benefit of nosy kayakers. It’s always pleasing to see birds behaving as expected.  Here we see an “adult… freez[ing] when disturbed; standing motionless with their bill… at 45 degrees

I was surprised to find that the striated heron, shy and retiring as it is, has been described as “one of the more cosmopolitan herons“, which suggests somehow it has well-used hand luggage tucked away in the mangroves somewhere and frequent flyer points.  Sub-species (in an attractive range of colours) are found right around the world – from Africa, Madagascar, the islands of the Indian Ocean, East Asia, and South America.

Adult Striated heron walking toe out good pattern

Adult striated heron stepping out

Australian striated herons – both the east coast macroryncha, grey with perhaps a flush of wine colour on its underparts, and the reddish-brown stagnatilis which living in the north west – are a bit fussier than many overseas subspecies, living pretty much exclusively in coastal areas in and around mangroves. That’s quite different to the rarer but to my untutored eye somewhat similar looking black bittern that is found along forested rivers, like the Wyong River where I spotted this one, and even rivers much further inland.

If you’re kind of fussy about where you live, Joe Crafts Bay seems a tremendous place to end up.  No wonder the grumpy grownup wants to keep it to himself.

Magic Joe Craft Bay

Joe Crafts Bay at its magical best

 

More adventures on the Hawkesbury

A visit with the eagles of Mooney Mooney Creek

Magic scenes on a cold and foggy day on Cowan Water

The silver river – up Marramarra Creek

Of gods and map readers – into Muogamarra National Park

Two sad islands, three whistling kites – a visit to Barr Island

Burnoff at Bujwa Bay

Alhambra on the Hawkesbury