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Tag: birds

Deep South WA, Feb ‘25 (final in series: red-eared firetail)

 

Three of Australia’s nineteen to twenty-one recognised “finch” species are “firetails”.

(Australia has the world’s most “collectible”/“beautiful” finch species, but some members of the human species do not regard Australia’s finches as “true” finches)

Arguably, the finest-feathered firetail is the one that naturally occurs only in a small portion of a single Australian State.

Within its range, this species is neither rare nor threatened.

However, remarkably few humans have seen this bird.

An even smaller number have ever managed to see one, properly.

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Deep South WA, Feb ‘25 (#40 in series: once was not enough)

 

Chapters #39 through #41 feature the same individual; #39’s photo was taken immediately after that morning’s first sighting of him/her.

S/he was so sodden as to be unrecognisable, in terms of species or age.

The featured image, above, was taken three minutes later.

I then assumed that our hero/ine was relishing the morning sunshine’s drying power… and would soon be airborne.

I was wrong.

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Deep South WA, Feb ‘25 (#38 in series: grey fantail, wet)

 

This chapter’s three previously-unpublished photos show the same individual.

They were taken within a single minute, on the morning of 07 February 2025.

Above and below, this grey fantail had just emerged from what soon proved to be the first of two immersions.

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Deep South WA, Feb ‘25 (#37 in series: grey fantail, dry)

 

 

You are looking at a very widely-distributed , small, insectivorous bird.

His or her feathers are not wet, so the bird appears to be a deal bigger/meatier than it really is.

Rhipidura albiscapa – the grey fantail – is very easy to see, across most of non-arid Australia.

I photographed the pictured individual at 5.47 pm on 11 February 2025, near Youngs Siding.

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Deep South WA, Feb ‘25 (#32 in series: “feel the serenity”)

 

The first two hours of daylight at “our” birdbath were sometimes even more frenetic than was the “afternoon rush” depicted in this series’ previous chapter.

After 8.30 am, however, the “morning peak” had passed, and a reclusive, petite bird could bathe, alone, and enjoy at least a semblance of privacy and calm.

Within a not very large radius of where we were staying is all of the pictured species’ habitat

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Deep South WA, Feb ‘25 (#31 in series: “rush hour” at the birdbath)

 

As is true of humans’ bathrooms, bathhouses and drinking venues, other species’ “watering holes” can be a “serene place of refuge” at one time of day, and “mayhem” at another.

On 08 February 2025, 3pm to 4 pm was “peak hour” at the birdbath in front of “our” cottage near Youngs Siding.

It looked sorely in need of an Air Traffic Control Tower!

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Deep South WA, Feb ‘25 (#30 in series: two species, sharing “3”)

 

 

At least between the pictured species, “Two honeyeater species, sharing a birdbath” is a perfectly unremarkable, “normal” event.

On the left – sticking out his or her long, “brush-tipped” nectar-collecting tongue – is a New Holland honeyeater, Phylidonyris novaehollandiae.

On the right is a bird that is very clearly a species in its own right, but was not recognised as such until 2010.

It never really was a subspecies of the (eastern Australian) White-naped honeyeater, Melithreptus lunatus.

At last blessed with a single, “proper” common name – and its own “Latin” species name – Gilbert’s honeyeater, Melithreptus chloropsis, lives only in Western Australia’s southwest.

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Deep South WA, Feb ‘25 (#29 in series: two species, sharing “2”)

 

 

At 3.45 pm on 08 February 2025 we watched a red-eared firetail finch (of whatever gender) and a (definitely-male) red-winged fairywren share the same feeder.

It was the first time in my life that I had seen members of both species within so very few millimetres of each other.

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