Bird Watching tin the vicinity of Coff's Harbour

This blog is intended to follow the blog on Sapphire Beach, which in turn is intended to follow the episodes on Dorrigo Park...  And please remember, it is impossible to take pictures of birds, so the pictures you see here are not mine.  I believe they were created by Black Magic.

      Well, such is my pessimistic view of the western world.   Meanwhile, back at Sapphire Beach it was time to get on with my own memories.  Pierre, full of energy as usual, appeared on time at 9 AM.  There was something intuitive about the Australian road signs; even though he hadn’t been to Sapphire Beach for a while he was able to find the park without difficulty.  Amazing!

   

The Sikh Temple at Woolgoolga...from theFront

Off we went, driving north with the Southern Emu Wren as our target species.  This was a noble goal.  the bird is small, the size of a fairy wren, has a long wispy  tail, unique in the bird world as far as I know.  the bird gets its name because the tail reminded someone of the loose plumes that cover an emu.  (Not because it grooms or otherwise hangs around with Emus.)  And the emu wren  is really hard to find.  Mike and I, twenty years before, had kicked some serious birding patoot, but had not seen an emu wren.  As I now understand it, the reason is pretty obvious.  Emu wrens live in seaside heath.  A habitat of specific plants in land just higher than that which would sustain salt marsh.  While it is not a really rare habitat in Eastern Australia, you don’t end up in this habitat by accident.  

There are a couple other birds there, but it is not a trove of new species.  It seems now that Mike, who was the guiding force in our tour, made the decision not to look for the emu wren because it would take a lot of time and not yield a lot more species.

Pierre Charboneau on the heath.

    On our way to Red Rock, home of the emu wren, we passed through Woolgoolga, which boasted the biggest Sikh temple in NSW.   We were able to see the back of the temple from the  road as we drove by.  Unlike Hindu temples, resplendent in color with stacks of Gods both human and animal, this edifice was plain gray stone with a smattering of sedate spires. and a central dome.  The picture I include is from the front, which I didn’t see.  The back side, which we saw from the road was, no surprise,  less grand.

Soon we were in Red Rock, the name would become more apparent in a while.  Pierre parked where the road transected a large flat area of low lying brush.  He got out his tape player and off we went.  For the better part of two hours we walked this low lying brushy area.  We saw one new bird, a consummate little brown bird that only a bird watcher might deign to give a second look.  Does the name Tawny Grassbird excite you?  Even if you had been smoking grass this bird would seem dull.  

Banksai on the heath at Red Rock

   So dull was the birdwatching, that I ended up taking pictures of plants, specifically the low lying Banksia that formed a substantial portion of this unique habitat.   Banksia is named  for Joseph Banks, who was already a famous botanist when he sailed with Captain Cook on his first voyage to Australia.   He was the botanist for which Botany Bay is named.  Banks is credited with the discovery of eucalyptus,  acacia and, obviously,  Banksia.  There are over 100 species of Banksia, all but one of which is endemic to Australia.   Many of them have columnar flowers and are used in gardens the world over. Naturally, the ones on this heath were more prosaic.  

    

   Pierre’s discerning eye noted that a lot of invasive plants had appeared on this particular patch of heath since his last visit. Trudging along through the hot, humid and monotonous heath, I was tempted to charge this up to sour grapes. Or sour Banksia, as the the situation merited.  I could not tell, but habitat destruction can be pretty subtle and It could well be that changing plant variety resulted in our failure to find the Emu Wren.  Despite prolonged trudging, interspersed with Pierre producing a variety of twittering noises from his player and my loud American pishing,  we had no luck.  By the time we made it back to the car, sans emu wren, I was ready to look for something easier.

Really Red Rocks!

     To placate the passenger, Pierre declared that we would start birding the American way.  That is to say, driving rapidly from spot to spot, hopping out to look at something seen from the car to or to look quickly for something likely to be at a certain location.  At times, in my experience, the American way also involves the imbibing of potent beverages, thus to enhance the spirit and imagination of the hunters.  That was not to be the case on this Australian afternoon, but the rapidly passing scenery would be more amusing than a trudge through the heath.

      Our first stop was at the Red Rock park.  We were hoping for shorebirds, but the tide was too high and we had to settle for a family fishing from the bank and a couple Australian pelicans (the largest pelican in the world).  Some terns sat on an island about 200 meters distant.  

     We drove from teh park to a small car park, where we  walked down onto the beach onto the eponymous very Red Rocks.  Aside from the red rocks, we saw some Little Terns and vowed to return later.  heading back to the main road we passed a caravan park.  It didn't look as homey as Sapphire Beach, but it was right by the beach and if you wanted to sty someplace adjacent to shore birding, it might be worth a go.    

Mistletoebird

    Recognizing that for shore birds to appear on the tide flats that were still submerged,  we needed to wait for the tide to fall, Pierre took us to a patch of woods near the sea.  As we walked the trail, I mentioned the Rose Robin that Sandra and I had seen in Dorrigo and wondered if another beautiful red bird, the Mistletoebird might be seen around Coff’s.  It was like a premonition, because shortly Pierre brightened and said, “Do you hear that?”  Of course I heard nothing, but he heard a Mistletoebird that was high in a nearby tree.  We scrambled around for a good vantage point and Bam! There it was... a great look at a gorgeous little bird.  the mistletoebird was hanging on the side of a tree about thirty feet up.  Usually associated with berries, it was acting as if it might be gleaning bugs from the bark.  We enjoyed it for several minutes before it flew off.  

     This was excellent luck.  The Mistletoebird can be found anywhere over a large portion of forested Australia, usually in forests where mistletoe is growing (it feeds on the berries).  But it is not common and I had not seen it on our first trip.  

Variegated Fairy Wren

     Just as we turned back towards the car, Pierre heard a fairy wren twittering in the trees.  We had talked about me needing the Variegated Fairy Wren for the trip and he was sure that was what we were hearing.  By this point in the narrative, you may begin to understand what makes a really good bird watcher.   Good eyes help, but to get to the next level one needs to be able to recognize the calls of the birds.  If one looks hard for every twittering bird, he will see the same thing over and over.  But the difference between the twitterings of one fairy wren and another is subtle at best.  

     This bird was a bit elusive, but the increased bird activity had us excited.  Off we charged into the brushy undergrowth.  There had been a fire here recently and we were chasing the bird through charred stems, accumulating a fair amount of soot as we scrambled and pished, trying to get the wren to show itself.  Finally we got our look and Pierre was right again.  Chestnut brown cape and an electric blue face.  A male Variegated Wren.  And me wearing my soot streaked khakis like a badge of honor. 

     As we walked out of the  car Pierre recognized the burbling call of the bird known in Oz as the Green Oriole.  Its a fat green bird that favors tree tops and a little dancing around the base of his tree soon afforded us a glimpse.  As we walked back to the car, Perre waxed eloquent on his favorite subject, his wonderful wife.  It is very cool that they are still so devoted after many years.

Southern Emu Wren

    Back at the car it was time to finish off our trip to Red Rock with a last look at the tidelands.  As we drove, Pierre stopped suddenly.  On our right was a series of modern houses facing, on our left, a vast heath much like the one we had walked through at the beginning of the day.  Heaven knows what he saw or heard, but we were immediately on the edge of the heath.  Way out, perhaps 150 yards, Pierre spotted something that he was convinced was Emu Wren.  He encouraged me to pish.  Soon even I could see movement.  Three of these tiny birds made several flights towards us.  Pierre was very excited, repeatedly commenting that his usual experience was for the emu wren to pop up out of the heath and disappear immediately back into the tangle.  I got three pretty good looks as the trio of birds made their flight of about twenty  yards, disappearing as a group at the end of each flight.  As they flew, it was possible to make out thier delicate blue markings.  More impressive were their trailing, wispy tails which waved behind them like a bride’s train.  Nothing like waiting for twenty years to see a bird and  missing it in the morning to make this a special experience.  I was really happy and Pierre was vindicated.  “We got them the American way”  he cheered..  It is the essence of bird watching that a small bird hard to find in a vanishing habitat is treasured above the biggest, most colorful bird that is found easily.  

Why not share your lunch with a Brush Turkey?

     
The Red Rock Park was around the corner . From the park we were now able to see many sandy islands.   Around the corner we stood on the red rocks and looked for more shore birds.  We eventually seeing the Red Capped Plover far, far away cavorting with some curlews and, a bit closer, the Pied Oystercatcher fossicking on the shore.   Nearer yet,  we saw some Little Terns, about the size of Barn Swallows, cavorting over the bay.  

    Back at the ranch, Pierre and I shook hands, he departed to take care of his parents and I returned to our small trailer and my beloved Sandra.  See?  I  too can be a devoted husband!

    Sandra related her days experiences, mostly hanging around the holiday park, but with an encounter with a Brush Turkey.  Just like the Ibis that tried to steal her lunch in the Sydney Botanical Gardens, a turkey had hopped on our verandah while Sandra was trying to eat lunch.  He didn’t get any lunch and Sandra got his picture.

     To compensate Sandra for her day stuck in the park by the beach with the brush turkeys, I pulled myself together, got explicit instructions from Sam at the park office and we headed off to dinner in Coff’s Harbour.   Explicit instructions were  clearly required, as we had failed to find a restaurant the night before and ended up eating in the cabin on supplies that we had purchased for the final leg of the trip.  

   Luckily, we were getting better at this.  Having made it onto the freeway,  we took the correct exit and found the restaurant district without a hitch. We were pleased to find that we had indeed driven right by this long block of restaurants the day before.  So adept was I in negotiating Coff’s on this warm afternoon,  that we arrived at our destination about an hour before the restaurants opened.  

    Sandra and I strolled the restaurant block, named for the pier, though it was about two long blocks away.   Chinese, Thai, Italian and Indian cuisine was represented, along with a wine bar and a pub.  We settled on the Tandoori Oven and spoke with the proprietor who assured us he would open in less than an hour.  

    Having time to burn, we boarded the Corolla and, just around the block, found a combination gas station and liquor store.  These are not terribly uncommon in Australia.  Having fueled the car and once again marveled at the price of beverages in Oz, we headed down to the pier where we enjoyed the ocean breeze.  

   

Trip

   Trip Advisor Review  Tandoori Oven

   Sandra and  I dined happily at The Tandoori Oven in Coff's Harbour.  the restaurant is two blocks from the pier.  We were directed by our hotel to park in the lot across the street.  Parking, though usually free in Coff's, is surprisingly hard to find at times.

    This restaurant is found on a block that boasts at least six other dining establishments, from Pub grub to iItalian and Chinese, and there is a fish and chips place in the grocery mall across the street.

Sandra Awaits her Lamb Vindaloo in Coff's Harbour

    We were surprised to find that this is sort of a fancy restaurant.  I love Indian cuisine.    As a consequence I go to a lot of Indian restaurants, and this is easily the nicest I have been to in years.  Lots of chrome and glass and napkins folded to resemble a lotus blossom.

    
   The service was prompt and gracious.  The food was good, but not great.  First, it was spicier than we had hoped for.  There may be a larger Indian clientele here in Coff's to account for this, but if we were in the position to go again we would ask for mild, comfortable that the food would be sufficiently spicy.

    Additionally, the food was not spiced exactly as I might have hoped.  Its always fun to taste someone else's take on one of your favorite cuisines, and Indian allows a lot of room for interpretation.  It was certainly tasty and the portions were generous. 

    Or to put it another way, I didn't want to berate the restaurant, but the following day in Gloucester I improved the leftovers by adding sugar and a couple creamers.   Stay tuned as Sandra and Jeff bid goodbye to the beach and head into the mountains of New South Wales.