During most of spring we woke up every morning to the sound of sparrowhawks shagging. But for the last couple of months the alarm clock has been the crack of a whip.
An eastern whipbird pair have been whiling away time in our garden, offering their distinctive antiphonal duet – the male first with his whipcrack, followed up by his mate with a “chu chu”. But they’ve had an extra with them this year – a youngster, with a kind of squelchy call that reminds me a bit of the red-crowned toadlets that I’ve been hearing on the fire trails throughout this soggy soggy summer.
Recently fledged juvenile whipbird
The whipbirds have some interesting child-rearing habits, according to researchers Amy Rogers and Raoul Mulder. They usually lay a couple of eggs. Once the chicks fledge, the parents divide the task of looking after the kids quite formally between them. Each parent looks after one of the fledglings exclusively. You can imagine the therapy bills . There’s an exception – if only one chick survives, then it’s mum who’s in charge. So I guess it’s maternal care we’ve seen as we’ve watched the adult and juvenile slipping in and out of sight around the garden. There’s definitely a whip-cracking male around, but all thee have only been spotted together in the garden once – and I wasn’t there with my camera to catch it, so I question if it ever really happened.
Whipbird chicks spend about six weeks with their parents after fledging, sometimes even hanging around until the next season, and it’s been interesting watching the adult and its offspring interacting, as the young one slowly morphs from its slighty fluffy, brown “I just came out of the nest” look to something more like an adult appearance.
I think one reason the whipbirds make such regular appearances in our yard is the frightful mess it’s in. We’re not path sweepers or lawn groomers. More stick-pilers, fungus-harbourers and ignorers-of-organic-detritus. My efforts to promote biodiversity are not solely confined to a failure to rake, however. I’ve sunk the value of at least one of the kids’ kidneys into shrubs, vines and groundcovers, some of which have survived. While I have regularly seen the whipbirds in our kiwifruit arbor and the youngster has been spotted leaping about in a demented way amongst the ferns and vines outside our kitchen window, the native violets, which are threatening to overrun the house during this wettest summer in 30 years, seem to be a favoured spot.
Here we see chick watching mum head down bum up in the viola hederacea (you can just see the tail in the lower half of the first picture). Next it’s little one that has its butt in the air, retrieving something invisible but presumably tasty.
Juvenile whipbird watching adult hunting for food
Despite their furtive habits and preference for the undergrowth, it turns out whipbirds can be pretty assertive under the right circumstances. I was impressed by the use of eye contact in a show-down with one of our many resident brush turkeys over a bird bath.
Showdown at the bird bath
The best time to spot two generations of whipbirds is around lunchtime, at the birdbath. Mum arrives first, has a wash and then a bit of a groom, perched above on some wonga wonga vines.
Having a splash
If the coast is clear, the youngster appears.
Juvenile whipbird taking its turn in the birdbath
Juvenile whipbird and mum beak to beak
Awwwwww.
Having watched this scene of filial affection unfolding around the birdbath at home, I was quite delighted to catch what I thought were some similarly touching moments at a pool in a more natural setting.
Brown thornbill in a banksia serrata
Eastern yellow robin
Spinebill feeding from a banksia serrata
Grey fantail – perhaps a young ‘un with a bit of brown on the breast
Lewin’s honeyeater in a banksia serrata
Juvenile spinebill hanging
As a devoted parent, I’m always happy to drive my kids to music lessons… especially if the music teacher’s home happens to be right next to a national park. On a sunny late afternoon during one of these high-speed twitching sessions, I spotted some action high up in a Sydney red gum.
A hollow on top of a horizonal branch seemed to have formed a natural pool which was evidently a magnet for the local birdlife.
Two juvenile spinebills near the natural pool in the angophora tree
Juvenile spinebills playing, fighting or perhaps play fighting
I could see that there were some juvenile spinebills about, and some adults too. Squinting through my lens I wasn’t quite sure what kind of pool side action was going on up there in the canopy. Perhaps adults giving a tour to youngsters of all the best places to drink and bathe in their forest home? Showing them the ropes in this lofty aquatic environment – explaining the avian equivalent to those “no petting” “no bombing” rules perhaps?
When I got home and had a good look at the photos I found out otherwise.
Adult whipbird shirtfronting a juvenile by the angophora pool
Adult spinebill after a celebratory bathe in the treetop pool
These poolside antics give “competitive dad” a whole new meaning.
Apparently, spinebills can have up to 5 clutches of eggs each year – almost as soon as one clutch are fledged, the parents start making a new nest ready, driving the older juveniles away. And no free pass for the pool it seems!
Much as I love the gorgeous spinebills, for human Sydneysiders with our eyewatering real estate market and clutches of offspring near at hand, somehow the parenting style of the whipbirds feels closer to home.
Adult male eastern spinebill in a hibiscus tree
More birds in our backyard
Cracking the whip in a messy yard
Blood feud in the dawn redwood
References
K. A. Wood (1996) “Bird Assemblages in a Small Public Reserve and Adjacent Residential Area at Wollongong, New South Wales Wildlife Research, 23, 605-20
Amy Rogers and Raoul Mulder (1996) “Breeding ecology and social behaviour of an antiphonal duetter, the eastern whipbird” Wildlife Research, 1996,23, 605-20
