Odd Behaviour

Interesting comments, thankyou. I am new to the Wide Bay Burnett area after about forty years in tropical far north Queensland. I am not a bird fancier (although roast chicken or turkey is well up there) but was intrigued to see many same birds here as there but with markedly different habits. For example, it is, in my experience, quite unusual to see rainbow lorikeets on the ground for any reason. However, here they tend to graze in large flocks. Lorikeets, to my understanding, have brush tongues enabling them to acquire nectar from many flowering trees. Well, one gum tree in the small private park behind my place was in flower and was not visited by any parrot let alone a lorikeet. In fact, I saw very few honeyeaters taking advantage of the spring flowering. Here, it seems, lorikeets prefer seed, especially seed not intended for them.

The little park was visited at first light by apostlebirds then double-barred finches and pale-headed rosellas. I had no idea what they could possibly be finding to warrant such large groups making several foraging trips each day. Of all the finches, I think I like double-barred the best. However, I expected that I should be seeing lots of zebra finches down here, and wasn’t. That prompted me to stick a flowerpot saucer on a fence post and throw in a half-cup of premium finch seed to see what happened. The finches found it within a day. They were quickly ousted by apostlebirds. When they left the finches returned in clouds. It was almost startling to see so many, and all of them trying to crowd into the one saucer.

The next day, presumably attracted by the clouds of finches, the lorikeets commandeered the tray. One or two would occupy the saucer and fight off any attempt by any other bird, related or unrelated, to share the food. For the rest of the week a single lorikeet would arrive three seconds after first light and defend the tray for most of the day to be sent packing in the late afternoon by an attack force of several lorikeets. By this time almost the only thing left in the saucer would be husks, chaff and the tiniest of seeds. The finches, for which the food was meant, missed out. I needed a solution.

The attempts to get at the tray and defend the tray caused a lot of seed to be dispersed on to the ground by the flurry of feathers and jumping lorikeets. The finches took advantage of this and up to fifty finches were to be found hopping around under the feeder (in between explosions caused by an alarm call given by any passing bird). I decided I could probably afford to shout the finches another half-cup of seed, and this I scattered across the park in wide arm-flinging movements after the daily half-cup of premium finch seed in the tray was accomplished. Well, that didn’t work. The first to find the scattered seed were the lorikeets and their numbers increased. The finches were able to get some, so I was on the right track.

During a lull at the tray, after all the lorikeets had taken flight from some imagined danger, the finches were quick to jump in, literally. Then they exploded past my window. When I looked to see why, I found a male red winged parrot examining the tray. I held my breath as this superb parrot specimen sampled the finch seed. They are, supposedly, grazers but no one had bothered to so advise this parrot. I went over my bank statements and decided to buy some premium parrot seed with the intention of putting out half a cup of finch seed and half a cup of parrot seed, and maybe the lorikeets would leave the finches some and maybe I might see more of the red winged parrot. The lorikeets ate all the seed indiscriminately, leaving only the sorghum and a few corn kernels. Ravens spotted the corn kernels and it was a ludicrous sight to see a huge raven standing in the tray trying to reach beneath its feet to scoff a piece of dried corn. To my astonishment, the red winged parrot challenged the raven, and won. The victory was sho

Exchange of information is never adversarial, Holly, and I took no umbrage and I am sorry if my response created an impression it had.

The feeding of birds in the tiny park is self-limiting as I expect the increase in natural foods occurring as spring becomes summer will drag most of them away. Surely, this large group of parrots, whose preferred breeding site is a tree hollow cannot sustain a breeding cycle in this immediate area with no old-growth timber around. This area is mostly pasture and spindly gum.

The feeding began as a selfish exercise to see what birds are around me in this new environment. I am too lazy to chase after them and know that with a bit of free food on offer, they would turn up within easy binocular range from my comfortable chair at the desk in front of the window. Birds are not nice. Neither the smallest nor the biggest are socially cultivated. They are aggressive, feisty, greedy and opportunistic. I am sorry if this grates, but Disney did not create the birds in this park. I watched with amusement as lorikeets apparently miscalculated their landing flare, almost colliding with another bird, either inter or intra species. My first impression was, oops! It then became obvious that it was intentional. For example, a crested pigeon landed on the fence wire and struggled to obtain balance. It did so, finally, only to be knocked off its perch by an apostlebird that launched itself from the rainwater tank on an obvious collision course. There was open space either side of the pigeon, so it had to be deliberate. A dainty diamond dove was finding seed in the grass. A common bronzewing, also finding seed began to move closer to the diamond dove and actually appeared to be trailing it. It continued to bob its head as if feeding, but circled the dove until it was directly behind it. It suddenly jumped on the dainty diamond dove removing a quantity of feathers in the process.

Spring has created its own aggression with the sexual cycle in full swing. I watched an over amorous lorikeet pester a female (I hope it was) that was not interested, or at least more interested in finding food. The male continued its courtship ritual and when that didn’t work, attempted forced sexual union. Two other males came to the aid of the lady lorikeet and pinned the overeager male to the ground on its back and proceeded to beat the crap out of him. I applauded, by the way. The bloodied-nose male hopped away and turned his sexual advances towards another bird. Those little cotton-balls that represent the double-barred finches don’t mind sharing the feeder tray. Except that I have seen on many occasions a finch that could not find room in the tray, give alarm gestures, and as the flock exploded out of the tray it flew directly to it. One could almost detect a smirk on its face. I assume it was not the same finch. Wouldn’t it be convenient if they all wore nametags?

I expect to see aggressive behaviour by birds protecting breeding sites or warding off predators. Ravens, butcherbirds and kookaburras abound here and it is usual to see some smaller bird driving them off, or to see one of the three chasing another. However, I was curious on seeing a shape in a tree that I wasn’t used to seeing and reached for the binoculars. To my amazement, the shape turned out to be an Australian wood duck perched, flatfooted, on a branch of the large tree. It was, I thought, a little out of context and as I continued to study it through the glasses, it was attacked and driven off by butcherbirds. Can someone explain to me the perceived threat?

The only bird around here with a sense of humour is a raven. It delights in sitting in a tree next to the park waiting until the park fills with birds, each warding off the other in the race to find the scattered seed. When a crowd of birds fill the park, the raven gives an alarm call and calmly watches as the park explodes. It never fools one old galah that uses t