Waders Across the World

Of course lots of familiar waterbirds wade in water, including herons, ibis, spoonbills, plovers and flamingoes, but this post concerns one particular family which is officially called 'the waders' (Scolopacidae for the record), with many species found in every unfrozen continent. They are primarily birds of the seashores, though some can venture well inland to freshwater habitats. Nearly all those found in Australia breed in the tundra of the far northern hemisphere (especially Siberia) and then make the huge trip across the equator to somewhere warmer to feed on small animals which are mostly buried in beach sands and mud flats. Logically, Arctic-nesting birds fly generally due south after breeding, so those breeding in Europe (Scandinavia and Russia) will go to Africa, those in the Asian tundras fly to southern Asia and Australia, and birds breeding in Canada and Alaska go to South America.

A downside of this for us is that they mostly moult out of their often colourful breeding finery at the breeding grounds before they fly south, so they nearly all arrive wearing more or less the same grey-brown uniform.  

While in the south (their 'off season') their behaviour is influenced by tides, rather than by day and night, feeding on the exposed sands and muds when the tide is out, and roosting in huge mixed flocks on reefs or sandbanks at high tide. 

They can be frustrating to watch and identify properly. In addition to the colour uniformity and their tendency to feed in sometimes huge mixed flocks, they are very wary of intruders and any attempt to get close is likely to end in a whirl of grey wings disappearing to a distant part of the beach or around a headland. (In this context I can confess that in preparing this post I found a couple of errors in my photo identifications; feel free to let me know if you think I've still got any wrong.)

A mixed flock of waders on the beach at Buffalo Creek, Darwin.

Sanderlings Calidris alba and a bonus Hudsonian Whimbrel Numenius hudsonicus
on the Caulín Bay mudflats on Chiloé Island, southern Chile.

However there is often still some colour in the arriving spring flocks, and again in some waders which have started to moult before flying north again in autumn.

Bar-tailed Godwit Limosa lapponica in non-breeding plumage,
in February on Lady Elliot Island, southern Great Barrier Reef.

Bar-tailed Godwits 'colouring up' in March, Shoalhaven Heads, south coast NSW.

Grey-tailed Tattler Tringa brevipes, on rocks in February, Currarong, south coast NSW.

The same bird* a month later in the same spot, now in near-breeding plumage 
(you may have to click on the photo to see it properly - it really is quite handsome now).
*I can't be absolutely certain of course, but there was only ever one bird there,
always in this spot.

Some 40 species of waders visit Australia each year (though of course some are much commoner than others). There is a great size range among them from tiny scraps of sparrow-sized birds like stints and small sandpipers, through medium-sized sandpipers, knots, tattlers etc, to large godwits, whimbrels and curlews which may be 60cm long. Different sizes enable them to divide up the food resources more efficiently, but there is also a great diversity in bill size and shape, which further enables them to feed at different depths and with different approaches, this minimising inter-species competition. Here is a parade of some diverse waders (not all Australian) from small to larger.

Red-necked Stints Calidris ruficollis; part of an extended flock feeding like tiny rodents across the
mudflats of The Esplanade, Cairns in northern Queensland. (This is one of the best places in
Australia to watch waders, but if you're there in the cool of early morning you'll be looking
due east into the sun.)

Calidris is the largest genus of sandpiper with 24 diverse species, ranging from the tiny stints to the mid-sized bulky knots. Here are some more, roughly in ascending size. 

Least Sandpipers Calidris minutilla, actually the smallest of all sandpipers,
and which really belongs among the stints (or 'peeps' as I gather they're known
in North America). These were foraging in rock pools by a track on Isla Isabela
in the Galápagos; they don't come to Australia.

Baird's Sandpiper Calidris bairdii, inland and high in the Andes, in the hypersaline
waters of Laguna Chaxa in Los Flamencos National Reserve in the Atacama
Desert of northern Chile. This is another sandpiper essentially of the Americas.

 

Sanderling Calidris alba on the beach on Isla Santa Fé in the Galápagos.
Above, probing the sand with its stout straight bill, and below running 
along the beach.

 

 

Semipalmated Sandpiper Calidris pusilla, another tiny American sandpiper, also
in the Galápagos, this time on Isla Floreana. 'Semipalmated' means that its toes
are partially webbed, as can be seen clearly here.
(Like all other Galápagos wildlife, sandpipers here are readily approachable,
in a way that would be unthinkable elsewhere.)

Surfbird Calidris virgata, a particularly chunky (and again American) sandpiper,
again on Isabela in the Galápagos. This one has a very short stout bill for its size.

Great Knots Calidris tenuirostris, Cairns Esplanade. This is probably the largest of Calidris, with a 
relatively much longer bill than most of the others.

Like many waders in Australia, the numbers of Great Knots have dropped considerably in recent times. While travelling, they cannot feed in flight (unlike swallows or swifts for example), and must rely on finding an estuary at low tide. They can only survive if every link of a chain of feeding points is available (mostly around the Yellow Sea for birds coming to Australia), to enable the journey to be completed. In this case estuaries are seen in several east Asian countries as good sites for industrial development, such as chemical plants. More than a decade ago an authoritative paper calculated that 65% of Yellow Sea tidal flats had already been lost in the previous 50 years. The loss of such 'staging posts' is very serious indeed for migrating waders.

 

The next largest genus is Gallinago, which comprises 18 species of snipe, found in every continent except Antarctica. Unlike the previous genus, this one is quite homogenous across the species with regard to appearance and general behaviour; snipes are chunky mid-sized waders with a long straight probing bill and camouflaged plumage. They use marshlands rather than seashores, and can be found near the coast but also well inland and high into mountain ranges. 

Latham's Snipes Gallinago hardwickii, above and below, at Jerrabomberra Wetlands
in Canberra. They come here every year from their fir forest and meadow breeding 
grounds in northern Japan to spend summer. This population is subject
to ongoing studies, including the use of tracking devices, by researchers in both
Australia and Japan, assisted by volunteer 'citizen scientists'. The bird is the subject
of conservation treaties between Japan and Australia.

The surprisingly long beak can probe deep into the mud for living food.

Magellanic Snipe Gallinago magellanica in Torres del Paine NP, Chilean Patagonia. Until
recently this was known as South American Snipe, but that species is now known to comprise
two species, this one and the Pantanal Snipe G. paraguaiae. (Actually 'Pantanal' is an odd 
choice of name, as it is found across a huge range across most of South America east
of the Andes.) Curiously both these species (and most other South American snipes)
 are largely sedentary, and don't fly north to breed. 

The genus Tringa contains 13 medium-sized waders, generally long-legged with slender bills; in some species the legs are also distinctively coloured - old names for a couple of species contain 'shanks'. Only four are regularly found in Australia.

Grey-tailed Tattler at Currarong, south coast NSW. This is the same bird featured earlier
in examples of differences in plumage differences. There are two tattler species,
though only this one is commonly seen in Australia. Both species have plain grey
backs (in Australia) and yellow legs. This one is much less gregarious than most other
waders, except when forced to share high-tide roosts.

Wandering Tattler Tringa incana, Isla San Cristobal, Galápagos.
This, the 'other' tattler, is basically an American species, breeding in the Arctic
and wintering on the Pacific coasts of South America, though some find
their way to rocky shores of eastern Australia. 'Tattler' is a bit of a mystery
name; it seems to be based on the call, but this is not a conspicuous aspect of the
bird. When it does call it's a thin high whistle. The name apparently arose in 
North America in the 19th century, and was abruptly imported for
Australian use in 1926.

Wood Sandpipers Tringa glareola at Fivebough Swamp, Leeton, in the inland NSW Riverina.
This is typical habitat for them; migrants like all other Australian wader species, they
head inland instead of staying on the coast, looking for freshwater wetlands with emergent
vegetation. Not a good photo, sorry, but it's the best I've got. 

Common Greenshank Tringa nebularia, another migrant which tends to head inland
(I've seen one in Alice Springs) but also frequents coastal wetlands. In fact I've seen them in 
every Australian state and territory except for my own backyard in the ACT. Nonetheless 
they are usually pretty skittish in my experience, and I'm having to offer you this photo from
Singapore (though with the Estuarine Crocodile it could have been in 
tropical Australia). This one breeds right across the Eurasian Arctic and winters
in Africa and southern Asia, as well as Australia.

Common Redshanks Tringa totanus in our part of the world winter in south and
south-eastern Asia, with some coming as far as northern Australia; I once saw
one in Cairns, but that's all. This one, like the greenshank above, was
in Singapore (which is a great place for wetland birds by the way).

Greater Yellowlegs Tringa melanoleuca are not found in Australia. They breed
in Canada and Alaska and winter throughout South America. This one, like
the Sanderlings above, was enjoying the Caulín Bay mudflats on 
Chiloé Island, southern Chile.

A small genus of just two medium-sized species is widely represented (though certainly not abundantly) in the Australian summer by one of those species. The Common Sandpiper Actitis hypoleucos is not especially common here, though more so in the tropics; however it was of course so named in Britain. It is annually found right around the Australian coastline and far inland, especially in the north and west. 

Common Sandpiper, Darwin. Its plump erectness, straight sturdy bill and white shoulder
stripe are all distinctive, as is its solitary behaviour. 

Canberra has an interesting history with a couple of individual Common Sandpipers
which returned over a few consecutive summers - extraordinary navigation! From about 
2003 to 2005 one returned to a busy section of the River Murrumbidgee near Canberra,
popular in summer with picnickers and swimmers. Then from about 2020 to 2024 another
one took up summer residence at two sites close to each other in southern suburban
Canberra, firstly at Isabella Ponds then at a particular creek entering Lake Tuggeranong
(where this photo was taken). In both cases (it moved from the first site to the second 
after a couple of summers) it favoured concrete drains! Sadly it hasn't been reported 
this summer; I can only hope that it hasn't finished its journeying.

The Spotted Sandpiper Actitis macularius is the Common Sandpiper's counterpart in
the Americas, breeding in the north and summering in central and most of South America.
This one, on the Balleros Islands off southern Peru, is dwarfed by a South American
Sea Lion's flipper.

There are two species of turnstones, Arenaria, of which the immediately recognisable Ruddy Turnstone Arenaria interpres is found around most of the world's coastlines in the northern winter, having bred along the Arctic Ocean hinterland across Eurasia and North America. It is common on Australian beaches and rock platforms, and is most unwader-like in its distinctive plumage, even when not breeding, and in its portly body and short bill. I don't think of it as joining of other feeding flocks, mostly keeping to itself in small groups. (The Black Turnstone is limited to North American Pacific coasts.)

Small group of Ruddy Turnstones on Lord Howe Island, off northern NSW. The
top right birds is displaying some colour, which I wouldn't necessarily expect in
late January (though I'm no expert!).

A female Ruddy Turnstone coming out of breeding plumage (in October)
on Isla Fernandina, Galápagos.

The three species of phalarope, Phalaropus, are among the most interesting of waders, for their unexpectedness. Alone among wader groups, they spend nearly all their lives (when not breeding in the far north) at sea. While some do actually wade in near-coastal wetlands, they mostly swim for their food. In shallow water they often use a fascinating strategy of spinning in the water, thus creating a vortex which draws material up from the bottom, including small animals. While all three sporadically turn up in Australian waters, none do so as regular migrants.

Wilson's Phalarope Phalaropus tricolor, at the mouth of the Rio Lluta, Arica, far northern Chile.
The vortex it is causing is clearly visible. All three species are very colourful when breeding, but
all turn to grey and white garb afterwards.

Red-necked Phalaropes Phalaropus lobatus (above and below) in deep inshore waters
in the Galápagos - Isabela above and Daphne Major below.

Another curiosity of phalaropes is that all in three species females are larger and more colourful,
initiate mating and fight with other females over her mate, until their clutch is complete. 
Shen then leaves the males to brood the eggs and raise the chicks while she either
finds another mate or, if the season is getting too late, makes an early start to 
flying to warmer climes for winter.

Just for completeness, a distant shot of Grey (or Red) Phalaropes Phalaropus fulicarius, 
also in the Galápagos but further out to sea.

Finally there is a loose group of two genera of generally larger species - curlews and whimbrels (Numenius, 9 species) and godwits (Limosa 4 species). Nearly all have long slender bills; curlews and whimbrels have down-curved bills and in godwits they are straight or even tilt upwards. 

Far Eastern Curlew Numenius madagascariensis among the crabs on the Cairns Esplanade,
well away from the busy boardwalk. This is probably the largest living wader (along with
the Eurasian Curlew), and its numbers have dropped to the point where it is 
regarded as Critically Endangered in Australia. Numbers are still dropping and 
in this case the problem seems not to be of our making, or to be within our power 
to fix. (Ignore the species name incidentally - it doesn't visit Madagascar,
but in the 18th century it was named by Mathurin Brisson, who mistook
Makassar in Sulawesi for the better-known great Indian Ocean island.)

Hudsonian Whimbrels Numenius hudsonicus, Lima, Peru. Whimbrels 
are smaller, shorter-beaked versions of curlews, common across the shorelines of
much of the world. Until 2019 it was assumed that there was just one cosmopolitan
species, but it is now recognised that there are two quite separate species. This one 
migrates up and down the Americas, while the Eurasian Whimbrel Numenius phaeopus
breeds across the European Arctic and in scattered sites across Siberia. In the southern
winter this species occurs on shorelines across the Old World, including Australia.

Eurasian Whimbrel, Cape Hillsborough NP, central Queensland coast.
This is not an uncommon bird in Australia, though it is fairly flighty,
so I can't really imagine why this is the only photo I have of it!
(Memo to self...)

Bar-tailed Godwit Limosa lapponica, Lord Howe Island. This is the commonest large
wader in Australia, and the only one to regularly form flocks like the smaller waders
do. Note the slightly uptilted bill. They are not always constrained by the usual wader
migratory habit of flying due south after breeding. Many do of course, from 
breeding grounds right across Eurasia, but some also breed in Alaska
and fly south-west across the Pacific to Australia and New Zealand, a distance 
of over 11,000km without a stop. None of these Alaskan birds seem to go to 
South America. This is the longest single-stage flight that we currently know about.

Just about any beach or tidal inlet in Australia is likely to support a visiting population of Bar-tailed Godwits in summer. I've seen them in every mainland state and territory, including far inland in south-west Queensland and Lake Cargelligo in south-central NSW.

Part of a huge flock of Hudsonian Godwits Limosa haemastica in Castro, Isla Chiloé, Chile.
This species also breeds right across far northern America, but only winters in the south
of South America, though the occasional one has turned up in Australia. 
Very distant and ordinary photo, sorry!    

Waders live their lives between our world - the land - and the ocean. There is so much we still don't know, though we're catching up a bit. I worry that it might be too late, and with too few people doing the essential work while the actual decision-makers are not, for the most part, very interested, especially when international cooperation is involved.

I know that many people won't be very interested in this post, which of course is fine. I can only offer what I can, and leave it to my readers to pick and choose to fit their interests and time. However if you're still reading this, that doesn't apply to you, for which my thanks. It's hard to encourage people to care enough about something that they simply don't know about.

Wader aren't easy, from an observer's point of view (and I'm no expert) but they're fascinating and mysterious and worth a bit of effort. I think so anyway. 

 NEXT POSTING THURSDAY 19 FEBRUARY

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Farewell to 2025

It is my annual tradition here to close the year with a review of our year as represented by one or two photos from each month. As always seems to happen there is one month (always in winter!) where I discover that I found nothing that I wanted to record. In that case I presume to 'borrow' a photo from a busier month. I hope you don't disapprove of such a cavalier approach, but I'm afraid there's not a lot you do about it! 😊

Unlike in 2024 we did go overseas this year, and to the northern hemisphere, which we've rarely done. In fact it's the first time we've been to Europe together - specifically Ireland. We also finally managed a thrice-deferred trip to tropical Queensland in August. While birds feature fairly heavily here, as they're always likely to do, by adding an extra photo in several cases I've been able to achieve a better balance than I did last year.

And as ever I don't make any pretence to photographic excellence; I have no training and my pics are definitely records rather than art. This collection was chosen for their associations rather than any misguided belief in their excellence.

JANUARY

January's photos are usually taken at home, as we don't do much travelling in school holidays and in high summer. 

Juvenile Pacific Koel begging for food (not from us!) in the big paperbark in our
front yard. This was a bird that until a decade or so ago was a very rare visitor
to Canberra, but with warming it has come further south and each summer here
now rings with its maniacal calls. It is a parasitic cuckoo and its only known hosts
so far in Canberra are the abundant Red Wattlebirds which are apparently still entirely naive. 
Having this one spending a noisy day just outside our lounge room
window was very entertaining.

Delicate or Grass Skink (it goes by other names too) Lampropholis delicata
on a straw broom just outside the back door. When I left my previous abode many
years ago to move to Duffy, I briefly considered bringing some of my backyard
skinks with me - I had expected the old house to be demolished by its owners -
but didn't do so. Instead I discovered that we had our own population here,
which still gives me delight.

FEBRUARY 

Each year, as soon as the school holidays end in early February, we head down to Beowa NP on the far south coast of NSW for a few days in our camper trailer. 

We're big fans of cicadas, but so was this Noisy Friarbird, a large honeyeater, which 
snacked enthusiastically on their choir just above our camp while we sat in the
afternoon shade. 

We discovered this active Satin Bowerbird bower just metres from our camp,
in a direction we didn't usually walk. An excellent discovery!

 MARCH

In March we headed off to Ireland, pausing for five very enjoyable and unexpectedly 'natural' days in Singapore. On one memorable day we accompanied two delightful and very accomplished local naturalists on a tour of some of the nature reserves; both these photos were taken in the rainforests of Bukit Batok NP. (More on it and the other reserves here.)

White-crested Laughingthrush Garrulax leucolophus, which I had hoped to see and is 
now probably my favourite Singaporean bird. In the end a little boisterous garrulous 
gang of them found us, bouncing along the track and commenting loudly 
(and I'm pretty sure rudely) all the while.

Malayan Colugo Galeopterus variegatus with baby, roosting on a tree trunk by day.
I'd been fascinated by these since, as a boy,  I 'discovered' them in a book, so this was a thrill.
There are just two species in their entire Order, so no close relatives. The spotted
gliding membrane can be seen below the forelimb. 

APRIL

April was Ireland month! It comprised a delightful four week spring road trip in often surprisingly agreeable weather. Many of our best memories are of the coast, especially the wild Atlantic west. 

Atlantic Puffins by their breeding burrow on Great Saltee Island, County Wexford.
This was our first full day out of Dublin and an especially memorable one.

An example of the gloriously rugged coastlines of the west, this on Achill Island, County Mayo.

MAY

After getting home in early May, we didn't get out much for a while.

This photo was taken from our balcony, looking across to a big eucalypt in the 
adjacent park. It features a hybrid between Crimson and Eastern Rosellas (blue cheeks
of the Crimson, brighter red breast and yellow sides of the Eastern). This is rare
elsewhere but not too uncommon in Canberra, where the woodland plains abut the 
forested mountains and river valleys, bringing the two species into contact which
is a rather unusual situation. The hybrids are generally infertile.

JUNE 

We had a few wintry days in the Blue Mountains at a lovely bush-surrounded
Air BnB. One frosty morning this very elegant male Spotted Quailthrush pottered about
just outside, quite unconcerned by us. It's not an uncommon bird, but in my
experience is not at all easy to approach.

JULY 

This was the month where I managed not to take a single postable photo, so I've sneaked in a couple of pics from photo-replete months. But don't tell anyone! 

Sweetwater Lake, Rinyirru-Lakefield NP north of Cooktown, north Queensland.
We spent a few blissful days camped here in August. 

Robber Fly Family Asilidae, Beowa NP, south coast NSW (see February above).
I'm a fan of these big fierce flies; this one is, typically, quietly waiting for lunch
to fly by. Other flies, moths and butterflies, beetles and wasps are all welcome meals.

AUGUST

Golden-shouldered Parrot, Artemis Station, southern Cape York Peninsula. This is one
of Australia's rarest birds, with no more than 1100 birds left in the wild. This station is
a stronghold for them, assisting in habitat management and supporting research. They provide 
feeders enclosed in wire mesh that the diminutive parrots can get through, but their predators 
(especially butcherbirds) cannot. We spent  a night there after leaving Rinyirru (see July) 
and this was one of the most exciting aspects of the entire five-week trip. 
It was one of the few Australian parrots that I hadn't yet seen. 

Noisy Pitta Pitta versicolor, Paluma NP north of Townsville. The previous night
we'd learnt that we needed to cut the trip short a week before the end. In the morning
as we packed this beauty appeared right in camp to cheer us up. It's not uncommon
in the east coast tropical and subtropical forests but I've never been able to
photograph one before. 

SEPTEMBER

Eastern Water Dragon Intellagama lesueurii Australian National Botanic Gardens. 
We spent much of September catching up on things, including a few walks in these 
wonderful gardens. These impressive big lizards are a feature of the gardens and the 
unusual colouring of this male caught our attention.

OCTOBER

Pied Oystercatcher Haematopus longirostris with chicks on Pebbly Beach, south coast NSW.
We camped here for three nights in Murramarang NP and were delighted by this little family
on the fairly busy beach. The species, which is mostly found on sandy beaches,
is listed as Endangered in NSW, mostly due to disturbance of its breeding habitat. 

 NOVEMBER

This was another quiet month for us, but we had a house guest for some of it.
One morning I pulled up the blind in my study to be astonished to see this little
chap (actually I later came to think it was a she) curled up but looking
uncomfortable on the balcony between the heat pump and the brick wall.
We assume she'd been dispossessed or perhaps was dispersing. We offered her
an old towel which she promptly rejected and over the next few weeks she'd 
stay for a day or two, then disappear for a little while. On one occasion
she was accompanied by a big youngster who gave her a very poor day's sleep.
Then, to our disappointment, she stopped coming altogether 
though we hope she's found somewhere more suitable. Housing in 
Canberra is very difficult at the moment!
[Stop Press. Today, the last day of the year, she's back for the first time in about a month!] 

DECEMBER

In December we usually spend a week at Currarong on the ocean side at the top of Jervis Bay on the south coast of NSW. It's always a good break with the sea, forest and heathland within easy walking distance. This time the little boat-launching jetty provided two 'first ever' pleasant surprises.

This year, for the first time ever, I saw small numbers of Wedge-tailed Shearwaters Ardenna pacifica
flying along the coast on the sheltered side of the little peninsula on which Currarong sits. I surmise
that they were sheltering from the storms at sea, though I wouldn't have thought they needed to.
Then on one of our regular visits to the jetty (there is usually something to see there) we were
astonished to see a loose flock of some 25 shearwaters bobbing in the water, and ducking their
heads to look for fish, right alongside. We watched them for quite some time, having never
seen them at close quarters in daylight before.

On another occasion we were excited and delighted to see a big Grey Nurse Shark
Carcharias taurus cruising in shallow water alongside the jetty. We watched while
it repeatedly swam a circuit following the edge of the beachside rock platform then 
out along the inshore reef and back again. This is a Critically Endangered species
in eastern Australia and it was the first one I'd ever seen.

So once again, this was my year, or at least a version of it. Thank you very sincerely for reading my offerings, and for your support by reading my posts, and through your comments and emails. As I've said before, whatever is coming we can be sure that nature is always there to inspire us and keep us in perspective, and I have every intention of continuing to share it with you through these posts. May your 2026 start peacefully and naturally. My best wishes to you, Ian.

 NEXT POSTING THURSDAY 22 JANUARY

I love to receive your comments and I will notify you personally by email when a new posting appears, if you'd like me to. 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 you could simply mark an email as Spam, so you won't see future ones.
If you do leave a comment - and I love it when you do - please remember to click the
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so you'll know when I reply - and I always do!