Beowa National Park#2: some animals

In my last post, I introduced fascinating Beowa National Park on the far south coast of New South Wales, and explained why it is no longer known as Ben Boyd. Today, as promised, I'll conclude the short series with some of the animals of the park that we have encountered there, though of course there were many others that I didn't manage to photograph. Birds are usually the most obvious animals in any area, so I'll start with them. Curiously I've found the campground itself, though within forest and encompassing many original trees, to be generally pretty bereft of birds for no obvious reason. There is one rather entertaining exception however.

This is definitely a Pigeon With a Purpose! Wonga Pigeons Leucosarcia melanoleuca are big
ground-feeding pigeons, usually of wetter forests, along the east coast and ranges of
Australia. They feed on the ground, on fallen fruit and seeds, following a regular route to
and through feeding areas.They're often shy, but not this one! It behaves like a 'normal' Wonga
in following a path at regular intervals, alongside and through the campground, including
camp sites though without seemingly looking for food scraps.

In the heath is another often elusive pigeon - at least there were quite a few in 2022, but I couldn't find a single one on this occasion, an anomaly which I'm unable to explain. Brush Bronzewings Phaps elegans are a little smaller than the more familar Common Bronzewing C. chalcoptera, and more brightly coloured. They occupy a range of habitats in coastal and hinterlands in the south-east and and south-west of the country, but I associate them particularly with coastal heaths.

Brush Bronzewing perched unusually in the open, on a dull early morning.
They really are a lovely bird, even in this dull light.

The Bittangabee Bay area (where the campground is) is noted for its population of human-tolerant Superb Lyrebirds, though we'd managed to miss them last year. This time however we were well aware of them, and in particular one afternoon we were treated to a wonderful lyrebird 'private time'. The male was perched in the shade at about eye level, preening as all birds must do daily, but also seemingly absent-mindedly quietly running through his repertoire of bird-song mimicry. It was a bit like peeping at him through a window, except that he knew full well we were there. I guess he was just rehearsing the words in preparation for his season of display performances in autumn-winter. Obviously it wasn't for our benefit, but we were entranced.

Male Superb Lyrebird Menura novaehollandiae, rehearsing his repertoire of
other birds' songs, while preening.

And a front view, especially of the wonderful tail. It does sort of look like
an upside-down lyre, but he never carries it upright like one - the bird was named
from stuffed specimens.

Eventually, with a showy flounce of wings and tail (which I didn't quite catch)
he hopped down and resumed his business of foraging for small animals in the litter.

More familiar birds were in the forest around the camp; both of these I could see from time to time at home, but it's different when they're in another setting.

Grey Butcherbird Cracticus torquatus taking a brief break from proclaiming his
territory on the edge of the campground. (This, the day we left, was the only
really sunny one we had.)

Yellow-tailed Black-Cockatoo Zanda funerea, on a much more typically dull morning.
They were foraging on banksia cones in the burnt area just down the entrance road.

At the Green Cape Lighthouse lookout were some seabirds, but not many species at the time. In fact here (where I went early each morning) I saw only three species utilising the sea. One is widespread in Australia, the other two not so much.

Great Cormorants Phalacrocorax carbo on a little rocky island off the cape; they can be found on
any water throughout Australia, as well as around the coast.

White-bellied Sea-eagle Haliaeetus leucogaster; it's not often I get to see these
magnificent birds from above.

The other ocean birds present were by far the most abundant, but too far off shore to photograph.There were probably two species of shearwaters present (Wedge-tailed Shearwaters Ardenna pacifica and Short-tailed Ardenna tenuirostris) but most were beyond the range of my binoculars (or skills!). Some on-site information makes mention of watching them migrating daily, but I think that's a bit of a furphy - they can hardly be migrating past for the six months they are here, many of them breeding. Rather they forage daily flying back and forth offshore, and far out to sea. (Short-taileds spend the southern winter in the Arctic North Pacific, but Wedge-taileds go only to the tropics north of Australia.)

The artificially grassy areas where heathland has been cleared around the lighthouse has attracted some common open country species including Australian Pipits Anthus australis.

Australian Pipit on the raised boardwalk to the lighthouse lookout.

But it's heathland where I spent most of my time. Here are three more heath specialists (along with the Brush Bronzewing) which caught my attention.

Tawny-crowned Honeyeaters Gliciphila melanops have always been a favourite of mine,
very distinctive (in fact the only member of their genus), and with a  lovely and unusual fluting call. They are found in coastal heaths from northern NSW to south-west WA, with a break across the Nullarbor. (Curiously the estimable CSIRO's Australian Bird Guide excludes the WA population from its distribution map, at least in the first edition.)

But my main focus this time was on finding and even (for the first time) photographing Southern Emu-wrens, which are common enough in these heaths, but very skulky and, to my ageing ears, inaudible! I failed last time here, but this time went out early each morning walking on likely tracks. (I would also have liked to stumble on a Ground Parrot, but no point in over-optimism!) On the third morning of this I'd pretty much given up but decided before knocking off to drive slowly along a track I'd already walked, just in case. A Striated Fieldwren (another I'd have loved a photo of) flew across and perched briefly on a dead banksia, then dropped into the undergrowth. I thought I might as well have a try, and got out and 'swished' to attract its attention. It dutifully popped back up and perched again - and as I watched through the binoculars it was joined briefly by an emuwren! I was delighted; my shot of the two of them was blurry (probably hands shaking!) but I got just one of the wren on its own, in poor light, but a lot better than nothing.

Male Southern Emuwren Stipiturus malachurus (she doesn't have a blue throat) showing
off the wispy tail which gives him the 'emu' part of the name.

And as a bonus, the Striated Fieldwren Calamanthus fuliginosus proceeded to behave
very amenably for me. Found in coastal heaths of south-eastern Australia from Sydney
to South Australia, and throughout Tasmania, it is regarded as threatened due to habitat loss.

Invertebrates are of course always evident, though not always photographable or, in my case, identifiable. Here are some which did stay still for long enough and, in all but one case, were recognisable even by me (or by someone I know!).

Male Common Flatwing Austroargiolestes icteromelas; thanks Harvey!
This is a common eastern Australian damselfly.

A scarab beetle, but that's as far as I'm prepared to go! Too attractive to ignore though.

And of course in summer there will be butterflies; here are just three.

Brown Ringlet Hypocista metirius, a common little butterfly of the east coast; Family Nymphalidae.
Fortunately for me they tend to keep near the ground and rest regularly!

Splendid Ochre Trapezites symmomus, a very handsome butterfly indeed; Family Hesperiidae.
The larvae feed on matrushes, Lomandra spp.

Varied Swordgrass Brown Tisiphone abeona, another nymph.
This one specialises in saw-sedges, Gahnia spp., like the one it's resting on.

Mammals are always present, though not necessarily obvious in the daytime. Here are three exceptions to the last comment, but first some observations on one nocturnal visitor to our camp which I didn't photograph but can't ignore! I've lived alongside Brushtailed Possums Trichosurus vulpeculus for much of my life, but never met one as contemptuously disrespectful of humans as this one. One night it scrambled onto the little shelf on the side of the camper van and knocked various condiment bottles to the ground, miraculously failing to break any. On another it knocked down a large bottle of cooking oil, this time dislodging the lid. When I approached it, it continued lapping up the oil and refused to even acknowledge me until I took its booty away. After that everything was locked away at night but on the last night it somehow forced its way under the zip of the van door and, without us hearing, found and devoured a banana near our feet, peel and all, and left half a sweet potato for me to find in the morning before forcing its way out again. And I refuse to feel guilty for 'feeding the wildlife' on this occasion!

A more demure neighbour was this Black-tailed (or Swamp) Wallaby Wallabia bicolor, which brought its pouch joey while it browsed on Pittosporum foliage by the camp but didn't even ask for, let alone steal, our food.

Black-tailed Wallabies are interesting in having no close relatives among the kangaroos.
They tend to be browsers (ie on leaves of bushes and trees) rather than grazers (on grass leaves).

One morning early I was walking to the lighthouse when I nearly collided with another stroller who suddenly emerged from a tunnel in the heath, which doubtless led to a burrow, without paying due attention to oncoming traffic.

Common Wombats Vombatus ursinus are indeed common around here where the sandy soils
are ideal for burrow construction, but aren't often encountered during the day.

Off the shore to the left of the headland lookout beyond the lighthouse a regular feature is a gathering of Australian Fur Seals Arctocephalus pusillus, said to be young males, just lolling in the swell.

The extended flippers are apparently acting as heat dispersers. This may seem odd in
these cold waters, but it seems that after vigorous pursuits of fish underwater the body
can overheat due to the thick layer of insulating fat.

After the last post, one anonymous reader predicted that I would discuss both shearwater and Humpback Whale migrations here. See above re the shearwaters, but I'll leave the whales for now. All along the east coast they move north to the tropics in winter to breed, then return towards the Antarctic in spring. The lighthouse area is a good place to watch them go by, though I've not been there at the right time to see them here. 

 

This time the honour of closing out the post goes to the reptiles! Inevitably in summer they were prominent, but a couple really stood out for me. 

Jacky Dragons Amphibolurus muricatus were seemingly everywhere, especially in the heath.
They are common along the south-east coast and in the highlands, and were one of the
first Australian reptiles to be formally named in English, from the Sydney colony in 1790.

Of more interest though - in that I'd not seen it before - was this large legless lizard (about half a metre long), the Common Scalyfoot Pygopus lepidopodus, which I initially mistook for a snake.

They're normally active early or late in the day, not mid-afternoon.
The grey-rusty-grey colour scheme (ie for  head-body-tail) is typical.

Even in close-up I'm having trouble seeing the ear opening which immediately distinguishes
it from a snake.

Goannas, in the form of Lace Monitors Varanus varius are common in the coastal forests and were often seen sauntering around the camp ground, though they didn't seem to be too obviously cadging for food. We watched one wandering right across the beach on a cool afternoon at the bay, then return to flop on the sand in the sun, presumably to get any warmth which was still available.

However one of the highlights of our stay, which involved two big male goannas, actually took place when we did a drive down the highway into Victoria, through the coastal town of Mallacoota and into the adjacent Croajingalong NP. We were investigating the Shipwreck Creek campground for a future stay, and were enthralled by the sight of these magnificent animals straining and wrestling for dominance. It is a struggle for territory, and ultimately mating rights within the territory. It is known in many goanna/monitor species from around the world, and is probably practised by most if not all species. However it's the first time I've witnessed it, and we watched for quite some time, though eventually left them to it.

The erect 'sumo' stance seemed to be the preferred approach, though they regularly
toppled and continued to push from a lower stance.

Like male snakes which have the same ritual, there is no intent to injure - among other
things claws and teeth are valuable and potentially breakable. It continues until one
of the contestants acknowledges defeat and retreats.

It was an extraordinary glimpse at a special and dramatic aspect of the lives of these
impressive animals, and we felt privileged to have been in the right place at the right time.
(And yes, it may be cheating to include this in a post about a different park, but I really couldn't
keep this secret from you and I'm sure it was also taking place somewhere in Beowa!)

After the first post of this series, a couple of people contacted me to say they were planning to visit Beowa - I hope that this one entices a few more to do so. You, perhaps?

NEXT POSTING THURSDAY 23 MARCH

 

I love to receive your comments and in future will be notifying you personally by email when a new posting appears, if you'd like me to. All current subscribers have been added to this mailing list and have already been contacted. This will mean one email every three weeks at the current rate of posting. I promise never to use the list for any other purpose and will never share it.
Should you wish to be added to it, just send me an email at calochilus51@internode.on.net. You can ask to be removed from the list at any time,or could simply mark an email as Spam, so you won't see future ones.

Beowa National Park; old park, new name

We've very recently returned from a most pleasant five nights at a park which is rapidly becoming a favourite, though we only camped there for the first time a year ago. It's on the far south coast of New South Wales, straddling Twofold Bay and the port of Eden, with sections north and south of them. 

Bittangabee Bay, by Bittangabee Campground (our temporary home), Beowa NP.

The arrow marks the location of Beowa, very near the Victorian border
with New South Wales.

You may know it better as Ben Boyd National Park, as it was officially called from its gazettal in 1971 until September 2022, so let's get that out of the way first. Benjamin Boyd was a ruthless but apparently charismatic wheeler and dealer of the first half of the nineteenth century, a Scot who came to New South Wales in 1842 and became involved, with varying degrees of dodginess, in grazing, shipping, whaling, banking and politics. However the relevant activity in this context was his invention of the extraordinary, and deplorable, practice of 'blackbirding'. This was the effective kidnapping of South Pacific people (mostly young men) and forcing them to sign an agreement which they couldn't read to work for very little remuneration for a period of about three years. His motivation was cheap labour for his various ventures in the vicinity of what is now Beowa NP. It ultimately failed because the authorities refused to ratify the agreements and many of the unwilling workers just ran away. Many died. (Later it was revived, though not by Boyd, on a much larger scale in the Queensland sugar fields.) 

In 2020, in the context of the worldwide Black Lives Matter movement, there was increasing pressure to remove the association with such an inappropriate individual and, after extensive consultation with local Indigenous and Pacific communities, the name Beowa (meaning Orca) was settled on. 

So back to the park. Our interest is mainly in the larger southern section, know as Green Cape for a feature near the Bittangabee campground. The cape is a good place to start meeting the park if you're new to it; the road to the 19th century lighthouse gives easy access. 

Green Cape Lighthouse in early morning haze.
Built in the 1880s it still operates, though no longer burning oil!

Here are two moods of the coast looking north from the cape.

Both shots were taken in February, but twelve months apart. The rocks are some 350 million
years old, a mix of sedimentaries such as ironstone (hence the red tinge that is prevalent)
and metamporphics such as quartzites which derived from them.

Ironstone at nearby City Rock, looking south.

And here are some more coastal scenes, as that's what many people go to the park for. 

An arm of Bittangabee Bay, extending inland; walking the perimeter is very pleasant indeed.

Morning haze from Pulpit Rock, near Green Cape.

Looking south from the Disaster Bay Lookout across the bay, where in 1802 Matthew Flinders
stopped on his circumnavigation of the continent in the Investigator.  He sent a party of eight
sailors ashore to replenish the ship's water supply, but none returned, hence his name for the bay.
(Other sources simply attribute it to the many shipwrecks in the bay, but Flinders' journal is
cited as a source, though I haven't seen a copy of it.) He had already named Green Cape in 1798
on his way to sail around Van Diemen's Land (now Tasmania) in the Norfolk.
To the right is Lake Wonboyne and beyond is wild Nadgee Nature Reserve and ultimately Victoria.

In places the coastal heathland extends up to a kilometre inland - the peninsula that culminates in Green Cape is entirely dominated by it - though more typically it's restricted to the headlands. It's a habitat that I spend a lot of time in when I'm there. It is dominated by heaths (ie family Epacridaceae/Ericaceae, 'heath' having a double meaning here), banksias, hakeas, casuarinas, wattles, westringias, sedges etc and is often very dense. Birds and other animals abound here, but we'll get to them. Here are some scene-setters of the heathlands.

Like much of the park the heaths are recovering from the vast fires of January 2020; the
heaths respond more rapidly than do the forests.

Part of the 30km Light to Light walk along the coast from Green Cape to Boyd's Tower
at the northern end of the southern section of the park.

Looking north from the track, near Green Cape, with regenerating Saw Banksia
B. serrata in the foreground. I think we're looking at Haycock Hill, the highest point
in the park at 250 metres above sea level.

Apparently unburnt heath with red Common Heath Epacris impressa and spiky Silky Hakea
H. sericea in the foreground, and flowering Saw Banksia behind.

Looking across the heathland with prominent sedges to Disaster Bay.

Heath with Scrub, Dwarf or Swamp Sheoak Allocasuarina paludosa in the foreground.

As mentioned, both our stays there have been in summer so flowering was nowhere near its peak, but there was enough to keep us satisfied.

Hairy Fanflower Scaevola ramosissima.

Wedding Bush Ricinocarpus pinifolius. This is a male flower; they tend to open after the
female flowers to avoid self-fertilisation. Moreover while there are usually five petals, quite
a few have six, like this one. This variability is often regarded as a primitive characteristic and
most plants have flowers which do not vary in petal number.

Common Heath Epacris impressa; flowers can also be pink or white. It is the floral emblem
of Victoria but is also found from Adelaide to the Budawang Ranges in NSW, and in Tasmania.

Small Crowea C. exalata, in the family Rutaceae, like boronias, correas and citrus fruit.
Nestled in the middle, the little four-petalled white flower is Hairy Mitrewort Mitrasacme pilosa.

Saw Banksia, which if long-unburnt can grow to ten metres tall or twist into
magnificent distortions in windy situations (below).

On the headlands are often dense stands of big Bracelet or Giant Honey-myrtle, or Coastal Teatree Melaleuca armillaris. In such situations not much grows beneath them as the fallen leaves form a smothering carpet.

Coastal Teatree along the Light to Light Track.

However the only orchid we found was growing under the teatrees by the campground.

 

Blotched Hyacinth Orchid Dipodium punctatum, a leafless saprophyte (ie it invariably grows
in association with a fungus which provides it with soil nutrients). I don't regard it as
particularly common in this part of the world, where it is mostly coastal.

Coastal Teatrees can also grow in the harshest and most unlikely of situations on the rocky headlands in almost no soil and in the full blast of the salty wind.

At Pulpit Rock this hardy stand of Coastal Teatree is holding together the ground
beneath them as it erodes away around them.

This old survivor germinated among the rocks above the sea, but the constant winds
have forced it to grow flat on the ground.

Generally nature doesn't obey our rules of sharp cutoffs between habitat types, with gradual changes being the norm, but that's not always the case with the heathland-forest interface.

I found this to be especially striking when driving back from Green Cape to
Bittangabee Bay. I assume the sharp change is associated with a change of soil
type from sand to clay and gravel (though of course this raises other questions).

Silvertop Ash Eucalyptus sieberi and Red Bloodwood E. gummifera are probably the most widespread forest species in the park, but there are many others present.

Woollybutt forest Eucalyptus longifolia, Bittangabee Bay.

Wetter patches occur in sheltered situations, and the inland fringe of Bittangabee campground is dominated by a dense strip of Sweet Pittosporum P. undulatum.

And as already mentioned, the impacts of the 2020 fires are still very evident almost everywhere, and are likely to remain so for years to come.

And while I was intending to conclude with a selection of animals of the park, that would double the length of this post, which I think is already long enough for a single sitting and I will post separately on them. However I won't impose the usual three week gap between posts, and will put that one up in a fortnight. Thanks for reading and see you then. Meantime if you're in the region you just might want to pop along and enjoy Beowa for yourself!

NEXT POSTING THURSDAY 23 FEBRUARY

 

I love to receive your comments and in future will be notifying you personally by email when a new posting appears, if you'd like me to. All current subscribers have been added to this mailing list and have already been contacted. This will mean one email every three weeks at the current rate of posting. I promise never to use the list for any other purpose and will never share it.
Should you wish to be added to it, just send me an email at calochilus51@internode.on.net  You can ask to be removed from the list at any time,or could simply mark an email as Spam, so you won't see future ones.