Unred Robins

I'm going to give way to a bit of hubris here, and assume that you've read my previous posting on Australia's red robins - in which case you'll be full bottle (as we say) on the background of the naming of this very Australian group of insect-eating birds. One thing that I find very curious is that apparently before the scientists cottoned on to the nature of probably the commonest and most familiar robin around Sydney, the lay public seems to have done so. The Eastern Yellow Robin Eopsaltria australis is found in near-coastal south-eastern and eastern Australia right up into the tropics. It is very comfortable around humans and will often approach visitors in the presumed hope that we will stir up insects for it.

Eastern Yellow Robin, Deua National Park, New South Wales.
This is its typical posture, perched sideways on a tree trunk from where it flies down onto prey.
The youngster below, at Nowra, New South Wales, was hardly fledged but still assumed the
correct yellow robin position.

George Shaw, British polymath who received and named specimens from First Fleet surgeon John White, called it Southern Motacilla (ie a pipit). John Latham, pre-eminent British ornithologist of the time, in 1801 called it Southern Flycatcher (much closer, though quite a lots of birds would answer to that description). John Lewin, a natural history artist working in the colony, in 1822 labelled his painting of it Yellow-breasted Thrush. However, when Sir Joseph Banks' somewhat abrasive plant collector George Caley left the colony in 1810 he reported that the colonists were already referring to it as yellow robin. I do wonder how and by whom that astute observation was made, and why it spread so widely well in advance of scientific recognition; that didn't finally come until John Gould's definitive work in 1848.

Even more curiously, in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, eminent and competent ornithologists were still doubting that it was a 'real' (Australian) robin. John Leach, a truly leading light of Australian ornithology of the time, placed it with whistlers (family Pachycephalidae) or shrikes. To this end the name shrike-robin was used until the authoritative Royal Australasian Ornithological Union's 1926 Checklist finally put the matter to rest, and declared this lovely little bird a true robin (again, in the Australian sense of the word).

The Eastern Yellow Robin's melodious - though admittedly somewhat persistent - piping is
often the first call heard, pre-dawn, when camping in eastern forests.

Across the nation, three thousand kilometres away in south-western Australia, we find two more members of this genus of robins. Presumably the ancestral yellow robin lived right across southern Australia in moister times; when the climate dried during a past glacial period, and the arid limestone of the Nullarbor Plain isolated the western population, over time it evolved into a robin with a white, instead of yellow, breast. The White-breasted Robin Eopsaltria georgiana lives mostly in tall wet forests, though in the drier northern part of its range it utilises dense coastal scrubs.

White-breasted Robin, Porongorup National Park.
Poor, distant photo, sorry.

The story of the south-western robins doesn't end there though. In a more recent period of softer climate another wave of yellow robins arrived from the east, and in turn they too became isolated. They too evolved into a separate species, the Western Yellow Robin Eopsaltria griseogularis. This retained its yellow breast, but it is separated from the throat by a grey band (hence the scientific name). Perhaps to avoid competition with the White-breasted Robin it tends to be found in drier woodland rather than wet dense vegetation. There's also a population to the east, on South Australia's Eyre Peninsula; my guess is that they spread east in subsequent wetter period, then were isolated there. It would be interesting to know when they became isolated, but I'm not sure if that work has been done.

A very wet Western Yellow Robin, Stirling Ranges National Park.

Right across the tropical north of Australia is found another yellow-bellied robin, though this one doesn't even carry 'robin' in its name. It behaves much more like a flycatcher, perching high in the open and chasing insects in the air rather than pouncing down on them. Given this, its name of Lemon-bellied Flycatcher is not surprising.

Lemon-bellied Flycatchers Microeca flavigaster, Darwin.
The sweet up-beat call is a familiar one in the north, and through New Guinea
(where the name flyrobin is often used) to Indonesia.

Throughout most of Australia however the genus Microeca is much better known for another 'non-robin' robin. The Jacky Winter Microeca fascinans is a fairly plain brown, but highly charismatic, robin, also an accomplished aerial insect hunter. The name is generally asserted to refer to its behaviour of cheerfully calling all year round. George Caley, mentioned previously, compared its behaviour to that of the European Robin in closely following anyone wielding a spade, to see that might pop up to its advantage. I can't help wondering however if the call, usually described as saying 'Peter Peter Peter (etc)', couldn't also have been rendered as 'Jacky Winter'?

Jacky Winter, Mathoura, New South Wales River Murray.
The white-edged black tail is diagnostic.

Finally there is another yellow-breasted robin, in yet another genus, from rainforests and wet eucalypt forests from the Queensland tropics to north-eastern NSW

Pale-yellow Robin Tregellasia capito, Kingfisher Park, tropical Queensland.

Then there is a range of unred (and also unyellow) robins in several genera, from Tasmania up to the tropics. 

Probably the most widespread robin of all is the black and white Hooded Robin Melanodryas cucullata, a far cry indeed from the redbreast of Britain for which the group was bestowed its name. It is found right across Australia except for the deepest deserts; only the male is so handsomely pied, with females and youngsters being more muted in tone.

Hooded Robins, male (south of Canberra) above,
female (Eulo Bore, south-west Queensland) below.

 

In Tasmania a common ancestor to the Melanodryas genus was isolated during one of the times Bass Strait was dry land, and evolved into the plain brown Dusky Robin Melanodryas vittata.

A somewhat mysterious species - solely because of its rather impenetrable habitat - is the Mangrove Robin Peneoenanthe pulverulenta, found wherever the mangroves survive across tropical northern Australia and into Indonesia. Many birders - including this one - wait quite a while to see their first one.

Mangrove Robin, Darwin.
The pensively melancholy double whistle carries through the mangroves and can be
infuriatingly difficult to track down.

Another tropical robin - or rather a pair of them - is represented by the very handsome genus Poecilodryas, with White-browed Robin P. superciliosa being found around the tropical Queensland coast  as far west as the north-eastern Gulf of Carpentaria, and the recently separated Buff-sided Robin P. cerviniventris from the western end of the Gulf across the Northern Territory to northern Western Australia. Their territories are usually found in monsoonal vine forest and along vegetated stream lines.

White-browed Robin pair, Cromarty, south of Townsville.

Buff-sided Robin, Boodjamulla (Lawn Hill) NP, north-west Queensland.

I want to end with a couple of indifferent photos of two of my favourite Australian robins, from very different habitats at opposite ends of the continent. The Grey-headed Robin Heteromyias cinereifrons is a Queensland Wet Tropics endemic, occupying a limited area of mostly montane tropical rainforest from Cooktown south almost to Townsville. It is the only member of its genus in Australia, though there is another in New Guinea. Its measured piping is characteristic of these rich forests, where it spends most of its time on the ground.

Grey-headed Robin, Mount Lewis, inland from Cairns, tropical Queensland.

Finally the Southern Scrub-robin Drymodes brunneopygia is a member of a very interesting species pair, which each took to very different habitats during times of climate change. The Northern Scrub-robin D. superciliaris lives in Australia only in rainforest at the northern end of Cape York Peninsula in Queensland, though continues across the Torres Strait into New Guinea. The Southern Scrub-robin however lives thousands of kilometres to the south, in the semi-arid mallee shrubland, dominated by multi-stemmed eucalypts, triggered to the growth form by low soil nutrients. 

The Southern Scrub-robin can be infuriatingly elusive in its dense habitat, then can suddenly appear at your feet before moving off again. It is mostly found on the ground, bounding on its long powerful legs.

Southern Scrub-robin, Coorong National Park, South Australia.
I always reckon that if I don't recognise a call in the mallee it's likely to be one of these,
which have a seemingly endless range of call variations.
Most typical however is a sweet carrying 'pseeeee'

So there it is, a brief introduction to a varied and lovely group of Australian birds, found virtually anywhere on the continent. And despite their name, they really are dinkum southerners. I love them.

BACK ON FRIDAY

When is a Robin not one?

Well, when it's an Australian robin for a start. Nostalgia has a lot to answer for when it comes to Anglo-Australian bird names. Our settler forebears weren't biologists, but they were observant enough and they were certainly homesick; very few of them were here voluntarily in the early years, being either deported prisoners or their military guards. They needed names for what must have felt like an overwhelming wave of new plants and animals, and sadly they were very rarely interested in asking the existing residents who'd already had names for everything for thousands of years. Instead there was a lot of 'looks a bit like a...' naming, resulting in many Australian animals and plants being named for familiar European species that they only vaguely resembled, and usually were not at all related to. 

A clear case in point concerned the red-breasted birds met with in the earliest days of the Sydney settlement. While the more scientifically-minded were inclined to refer to them as warblers (Scarlet-breasted Warbler was the name applied by the naturalist-painter John Lewin), the populace at large called them robins after the familiar but only very roughly similar rusty-breasted European Robin Erithacus rubecula.

 

European Robin, County Wickford, Ireland. Originally known in Britain as just Redbreast from
the late 14th century (replacing the older name Ruddock), this confiding little bird gained a
first name, as sign of affection. Robin Redbreast (Robin being a 'pet' form of Robert)
appeared in the 16th century; in time the 'surname' was dropped, leaving just
Robin as the name. It is generally recognised now as one of the big assemblage of
Old World Flycatchers, family Muscicapidae.

Scarlet Robin male Petroica boodang, Canberra.
The resemblance with the 'true' robin of Europe is fleeting at best.
In North America a similar situation arose, though that robin is unequivocally
a thrush, Turdus migratorius.

While we can agree readily that our robins are not at all related to their northern namesake, it is somewhat harder to say just what they are. However it is now generally accepgted that they belong in their own family, Petroicidae, whose exact position is uncertain, though it apparently parted from the main line of passerines a very long time ago and perhaps separately from the other Old Australian passerines. All members of the family are active insect-hunters, many using the 'perch and pounce' strategy.

Scarlet Robins are atypical of the family in being sexually dimorphic - males and females are very different in appearance. 

Scarlet Robin female, Canberra (close to my home in fact).
She shares her mate's white forehead spot (not visible in the male above)
but has only a red wash on her breast.

Scarlet Robins are birds of the woodlands and open forest, and are apparently declining in numbers as a result. In New South Wales they are listed as a Vulnerable Species. Locally most of the population remains around Canberra (not often in gardens) all year round, though some birds breed in the nearby mountain forests and come down for winter to join their colleagues.

Another local red robin sometimes causes identification difficulties for those new to the game, but they shouldn't be confused. Flame Robins Petroica phoenicea breed high in the mountains among the Snow Gums, often in sheltered situations low to the ground, including road cuttings.

Male Flame Robin, Namadgi National Park, above Canberra.
His breast is orange rather than bright red, and whereas the Scarlet Robin has a broad black bib
round his throat, the Flame Robin's breast flame licks right up to his beak.

Female Flame Robin, Namadgi NP (and in the mist! It's not your eyes or, on this occasion, my photo).
She always lacks the female Scarlet's reddish breast wash, and her wing bars are notably
more emphatically black and white.

One of the many pleasures of driving up into the Snow Gum woodlands high above Canberra in summer is the constant flash of Flame Robins flying off the road and onto surrounding branches.

A much less common red robin around here becomes considerably more abundant as we head north and west into the drier woodlands. The stunning and diminutive Red-capped Robin Petroica goodenovii is found right across southern Australia, including into the deepest deserts.

Red-capped Robin male, Back Yamma State Forest, south-central New South Wales.
Their typical call is a repeated 'brrrr-brrrr', remarkably like a traditional phone call,
which has been a cause of initial annoyance that my enjoyment of a remote place has been invaded by technology!
Another is a 'tic' sound like stones being tapped together sharply.

Female red-capped Robins (and I can't believe I don't have a photo) are also brown, but with a rusty forehead.

Fledgling Red-capped Robin, Mount Grenfell Historic Site, New South Wales.
The sharp insect-snapping bill is evident even in this youngster.

Of Australia's 22 robin species, only these three are actually red (more so than the European model in fact), which should have made it a bit awkward to call the rest 'robins', but it didn't take long for the original reason to be forgotten - people were using the name 'yellow robin' by 1810, just 22 years after colonisation. Moreover several of them aren't actually called robins, though that's a story for my next posting.

Two species of the wet forests of the south-east are pink, so nearly red. The Pink Robin P. rodinogaster lives in the tall wet eucalypt forests and temperate rainforests of Tasmania, Victoria and southern New South Wales; I can't offer you a picture of this lovely bird, but you'll find one easily enough on line. We don't generally see them here (though females have occasionally turned up at the National Botanic Gardens), but the similar Rose Robin P. rosea passes through Canberra twice a year on its migration between the wet gullies of the ranges, where they breed, and drier forests to the north, where they overwinter. However I had one - well I liked to think it was the same one - which spent quite a bit of time in consecutive winters in my yard, though sadly that was in my pre-digital camera days.

Male Rose Robin, Nowra.
This is a truly lovely bird, and moreover it builds one of the most beautiful nests I know.

Another one of the same species, Monga NP, New South Wales.

Next time I'd like to introduce some of the not-red Australian robins, not all as colourful but definitely as beautiful as these red ones. Try and catch up to a robin while you're waiting...

 

Continues here.

BACK ON SUNDAY

Malaysian Borneo; first impressions

I have just come back from a couple of very interesting (and enjoyable) weeks in northern Borneo, in the Malaysian states of Sabah and Sarawak. It was an unexpected trip, in that I was asked to accompany a natural history tour for reasons that are of no great interest to anyone else in this context. My explorations beyond Australia (other than a time in Europe over 30 years ago) have hitherto been limited to South America and Africa, so this was a real opportunity for me to see a part of the world with a very different biological history. 

Doubtless I'll be returning to Borneo in future postings here, but I've been asked to offer something of an overview while it's all still fresh in my mind, and so here it is. Firstly, in case you're not very familiar with the mighty island, here is where it is and how it's divided up.

My trip was limited to the 25% of the island which comprises the two Malaysian states of
Sabah (in the north-east) and Sarawak (in the north-west). The boundary between them is just to
the east of the tiny Sultanate of Brunei, which appears above as a rough W on the north coast.
The southern 75% of the island comprises Indonesian Kalimantan.
Map courtesy of Wikipedia.

It is the third largest island in the world (other than continents, including Australia, only Greenland and New Guinea are larger). Crucially, in terms of understanding its biology, it lies immediately to the west of Wallace's Line, named for the great 19th century English biologist Alfred Russell Wallace who recognised the clear distinctions between the fauna of Asia and Australia-New Guinea. Put simply, to the west of the line we find primates and hornbills, which to the east are replaced by possums and cockatoos. The line corresponds to deep-water trenches which mean that the land masses on either side of them have never been connected during glacial periods of low sea level. Of course things are never that clear cut in the real world, and in Sulawesi immediately to the east (on the edge of the map above) there are elements of both faunas, but it's a very useful rule of thumb. 

Thomas Huxley - the zoologist contemporary of Wallace, who coined the term Wallace's Line in 1868 - had it
running west of the Philippines, but now we recognise Ernst Mayr's version, which excludes
the Philippines from Wallacea. Wallacea is a region of somewhat mixed faunas between the largely 'pure'
Asian region and Australia.
Map courtesy of Wikipedia.

And to a visitor from Australia the 'exotic' nature of the fauna is very evident. (Reiterating, this is just an overview and I'll be revisiting these wonderful organisms in future postings.)

Rhinoceros Hornbill Buceros rhinoceros, Sepilok, Sabah.
A truly thrilling sight for a new-comer; apart from being so 'different' to our eyes, it
is quite enormous - up to 1.25 metres long.

Proboscis Monkey Nasalis larvatus, Labuk Bay, Sabah.
Another very special moment - this is one of the many Bornean endemics.

There are several major habitat types, with their own distinctive species, but the majority of the island is - or was - dominated by rainforest. I have to insert the proviso into that sentence because according to one apparently knowledgeable local we spoke to, 55% of the rainforest has disappeared in just the last 20 years, and most of the blame must be allocated to the pernicious palm oil industry. Any drive in Borneo will expose you to seemingly endless kilometres of the monoculture. It is not the only reason that the Sumatran Rhinoceros is now extinct in the wild in Borneo, but it is certainly a contributing one.

Rainforest, Sepilok, above and below.

Rainforest anywhere carries its challenges for birders - and I had to rely on my own resources for bird identification, and of course didn't know the calls - but for some reason Borneo seems to demand especially hard work to find birds. It seems that although the diversity is undoubtedly there (over 670 species recorded), overall numbers are strangely low. Various theories have been offered, but none of them seem very convincing; it really is quite odd.

It's not just rainforest either; it's strange to see no lapwings along roadsides, no kites or vultures overhead and no ducks. (They exist, but I saw one flying overhead in my entire time there.) Gardens,even near rainforests, are also surprisingly quiet.

In addition to the lowland forests shown above, there are montane forests on the mountain ranges too.

Lianas in montane forest, Kinabalu National Park Headquarters (1560 metres above sea level).

Chestnut-hooded Laughing-thrush Garrulax treacheri, a widespread and most attractive
bird of the montane forests.

Rajah Brooke Birdwing Trogonoptera brookiana, also at the Kinabalu NP HQ.
An incredibly dramatic inhabitant of the dark rainforest where the electric blue shines against the
black of its forewings.
(I am actually a little perplexed by this one; it is described as having 'electric green' flashes on the wings and this looks more like T. trojana, but that is endemic to the Philippines. Any pointers gratefully received!)

 Higher up still are the misty cloud forests; the best-known - and some of the best - examples are to be found on Mount Kinabalu, but we were there only days after the tragic earthquake and landslides closed the upper mountain for months.

Mount Kinabalu above Kundasang; the scars on the slopes mark where landslides destroyed the forests.

Cloud forest on Gungung Alab, Crocker Range, Sabah.

Bamboos in the same cloud forest.

A diverse understorey including ferns, orchids and lycopods on Gungung Alab.

Scattered around the coast are low-nutrient peat swamp forests, which are low in wildlife diversity even by Bornean standards, but which have their own specialist species.

Klias Peat Forest, Sabah.

Among the specialties of these nutrient-poor soils are the wonderful pitcher plants, which supplement their nitrogen intake by trapping and digesting small animals (which can include smaller vertebrates).

Nepenthes bicalcarata, Klias Peat Forest.
These amazing plants warrant - and will receive - their own posting in due course, but briefly,
the pitcher forms from an extension of the leaf mid-rib beyond the end of the leaf.
The lid keeps the liquid within from being too diluted; it is both sweet to attract insects, and with surface
properties that prevent insects from climbing out.
Moreover the inside is coated with waxy material almost impossible to climb, and the rim can
have downward-pointing spikes around it. The liquid is not digestive; the victim simply drowns and decomposes.
Borneo is pretty much the world hot-spot for them.

Adjoining the peat forests are mangroves, almost all around the coast (originally at least).

Mangroves, Pulau Tiga, an island off the coast of Sabah.
Proboscis Monkeys, among many other species, are mangrove specialists.

For the traveller - including naturalists - infrastructure is generally good, with an excellent road system and good hotels and lodges. People are friendly and food is excellent. By western standards things are pretty cheap, at least away from the tourist honey-traps. For some strange reason, though Sabah and Sarawak are just two states of the same country, travelling between them involves all the rigmarole of international travel, including having passports stamped by immigration officials; allow time for this!

Well, I think that will do for an overview; more detail in weeks to come. But if the opportunity arises to go there, please seize it!

BACK ON TUESDAY

Iridescence Without Feathers

This is the third and final in this series of iridescence in animals; the first two dealt with birds, but this time I want to look at other animals - mostly invertebrates but with a fish and a lizard thrown in. The principles are exactly the same as in feathers, with layers of cells underlain with melanin reflecting light from bottom and top surfaces such that they reinforce or cancel each other, giving gleaming colours like polished metal or glass. 

Beetle carapaces seem particularly suitable for the task - or maybe it's just that there are so many beetles!

This scarab beetle, from along the Tamar River in Tasmania, has to be one of the most
beautiful animals I have ever seen; the glowing colours were spectacular.

Christmas Beetle (because they emerge in huge numbers to eat eucalyptus leaves in high summer),
Anoplognathus sp., Canberra. These are also scarabs.

Scarab on Acacia flowers, Leeuwin Naturaliste NP, south-west Western Australia.

Diphucephala sp. on Acacia dealbata, Tinderry NP, south-east of Canberra.

Wasp, Standley Chasm, central Australia.

Fly, Batang Ai NP, Sarawak.
It's OK, I'd given up on the tea by now anyway!

Unidentified bug - ie Hempiteran - Sceales Bay, western South Australia.
(My thanks to Susan - below - for correcting my previous blunder with this one!)

The iridescence need not be in the body though - many insects have iridescent wings, and butterflies of course feature heavily in the iridescent hit parade.

Pollanisus viridipulverulenta Yeldulknie CP, western South Australia.
Only a small moth, but it absolutely gleams.

One of the brightest lights in the Bornean rainforest, the blue flashing against the black background.
This, in Kinabalu NP in Sabah, is the Rajah Brooke Birdwing Trogonoptera brookiana, I feel sure, though that is usually described as having 'electric green' flashes on the wings.
It actually looks more like T. trojana, but that is endemic to the Philippines.

Butterflies and moths are not the only ones with iridescent wings however.

Scarlet Percher Diplacodes haematodes Standley Chasm, central Australia.

Carpenter Bee, Playa Espumilla, Santiago, Galápagos.
Not much iridescence here, but a few seconds later that changed with a change of position
- see below!

 

Finally, a couple of vertebrates, as promised. Some frogs have the characteristic, but I don't have photos of those. Many fish feature brilliantly flashing silver as they turn, perhaps to help confuse predators.

Barramundi Lates calcarifer, Territory Wildlife Park, south of Darwin.
Most Australians probably regard Barramundi as 'ours', but in fact it is a species found from northern
Australia through south-east Asia all the way to the Middle East.
(Annoyingly I didn't notice the reflection of the Emergency Exit sign at the time!)

Finally, one of the most handsome lizards I know.

This big lizard, in all his breeding finery, is a male Eastern Water Dragon Intellagama (formerly Physignathus) lesueuriiAustralian National Botanic Gardens, Canberra.

I hope this little series has given you some pleasure too. Perhaps something slightly less flashy next time...

BACK ON WEDNESDAY