Part thirty-eight : Making friends

I recently received a letterbox-drop leaflet informing me of the long-term dangers of feeding wild birds – the least of which could be simple dietary deficiencies. By supplying wild birds with incorrect and perhaps inadequate nutrition, and in doing so making them reliant on our largesse, it could result in large-scale loss or even demise of a species. Also, if birds of different species are in constant contact at our freely provided backyard ‘feeding stations’, the passing of bird diseases could proliferate.

While I wholeheartedly agreed with most of the information contained in this leaflet, I do wonder whether the Lorikeet Bird Sanctuary at Currumbin in Queensland would still be in existence if they had followed the directions stated in this article.

However, while I acknowledge the risks involved, I will continue to supplement the finch diet with free seed. I make sure not to make it a regular day/date/time/quantity etc, thus encouraging them not to be totally dependent on my provisions but just to accept the seed as random generosity. I do believe that my method of dispensing extra rations to some of the finch family will not be detrimental to their continued existence. Also, I can recall how bereft the resident ibis flock were when their daily bread and scraps donor, who lived just across from my back fence passed away, thus depriving them of their usual sustenance. I have no wish to replicate that forlorn circumstance.

In addition, a recent incident that occurred at a neighbour’s place convinced me not to be over-liberal or follow an exact time-line when feeding ‘my’ finches or any other wild animals, because sometimes bad things can happen. This neighbour would, on a daily basis, place a couple of bowls and plates filled with bread, seed and scraps onto his open back lawn for an assortment of birds to enjoy. However, this gratifying sight was interrupted one morning when a raptor (probably an Australian Hobby [falcon]) swooped down and clutched a Peaceful Dove in his talons, sending other birds scattering every-which-way in a fluttering panic to avoid the same fate. Even though this is normal animal behaviour, I have no wish to lure birds to ‘my table’ making them a sitting target for birds of prey such as falcons, harriers kites or hawks.

Using this easy segue to my next topic, I have recently observed a pair of Black Kites in nearby tree tops, just watching, waiting, watching...

The tall black wattle tree is a popular roosting place for our resident ibis, but who willingly gave up their 'seats' to the more determined and lethal ‘bite power’ of the kites who chose this tree as their new observation post. The Black Kite, a rich dark brown in colour with a pale beige face and neck (not to be confused with the Brown [square-tailed] Kite) is common in the urban areas of Darwin, living mainly near tree-lined water courses but also frequenting open savannah land and rubbish dumps, seeking small prey and roadkill.

This particular pair of kites stayed around for a few days then disappeared as quickly as they had arrived. The Black Kite, in flight, is sometimes mistaken for the Whistling Kite, but its whistle is not as pronounced or as prolonged, and it has a forked tail rather than square or round. It is usually the Black Kite that you see hovering around a bushfire, pouncing on any lizards or small mammals that manage to escape the inferno. It is also the main protagonist in a locust plague.

More next month

Gayle Carroll