Glorious Grevilleas

In recent times I've begun a sporadic series on the old Gondwanan family Proteaceae, with emphasis on the Australian ones. The most recent one was on Banksias, which you can see here if you missed it. (I actually fear I'm tempting fate by even mentioning that posting, let alone linking to it. On that occasion, for the first time I failed to post on the promised date, due to the appearance of an unexpected White-winged Black Tern in Canberra. I duly completed the post the next day, and in less than 24 hours I was in the hospital emergency department; however it is quite likely the three events were unrelated so I'll take a chance...)

Fern-leaf Grevillea Grevillea pteridifolia, Normanton, Gulf Country, north Queensland.
A magnificent species, found across tropical Australia - as we shall see, not all grevilleas have flowers in spikes.
This was one of the first grevilleas collected by science; Banks took specimens while Captain Cook's Endeavour
was being repaired after striking the Great Barrier Reef where Cooktown now stands in tropical Queensland.

Grevillea is one of the most-cultivated genera in Australia, especially due to numerous cultivars. The name of the genus, along with others of the family, was the subject of one the most vitriolic botanical scandals of the 19th century. In 1809 the great Scottish botanist Robert Brown, who had sailed on the Investigator expedition with Matthew Flinders and spent years collecting Australian plants, presented to the Linnaean Society of London a landmark paper on the family Proteaceae, which he was in the process of preparing for publication. Among the audience on the day was botanist Richard Salisbury; he was Honorary Secretary of the Horticultural Society, but proved himself not at all honorable. 

A little later that year Joseph Knight, gardener to the plant dealer George Hibbert, published a snappily-titled paper called On the cultivation of the plants belonging to the natural order of Proteeae. However, only 13 pages were dedicated to his cultivation tips; the other 100 comprised a detailed plagiarisation by Salisbury of Brown's names. He didn't use his name and Knight got the 'credit' for the stolen names. However everyone knew it was Salisbury's work and he was widely ostracised and people stubbornly referred the names to Brown when he formally published them in 1810. Brown's task was made even easier when Knight/Salisbury misspelt Grevillea as Grevillia! Finally, a century later, the botanical world introduced the concept of Conserved Names, which enabled them to put aside the strict rules if there was good reason to do so. Today Grevillea is officially described as R. Br. [ie Robert Brown] ex Knight. 

White Grevillea G. parallela, Undara National Park, inland north Queensland.
This is another of the species collected at Cooktown.

The early history of grevilleas (bearing in mind that the name itself didn't appear until 1810) is confusing - to me, anyway! It seems that Banks and Solander collected some grevilleas at Botany Bay in 1770, including what we now know as Grevillea mucronulata. Later they collected three more in north Queensland (see the captions above). However the first three grevilleas to be cultivated in England before 1800 were none of these, and were apparently sent to Banks and some nurserymen by William Paterson, an army officer whose passion was plants.

Silky Grevillea Grevillea sericea, Goulburn River NP, New South Wales.
This was one of the three species received, grown and named in England in the 1790s.

However, the type species - the first one to be formally named - is a relatively obscure species from around the southern Blue Mountains, G. apleniifolia, not named until 1809! The answer, as I understand it, is that it was described by Knight (fronting for Salisbury), as the first species described as Grevillea. The genus name honours Charles Francis Greville, a friend of Banks and with him a member of the delightfully named Society of Dilettanti (whose passion was the art of ancient Greece and Rome). Greville was a keen gardener, growing tropical species under glass. He had a very close relationship with Emma Hart, who later progressed to being Lord Nelson's lover, but he had no discernible relationship with Australia or grevilleas.

And with that, perhaps we should talk about some plants.... There are some 360 species of Grevillea, of which only 7 are found beyond Australia (in New Guinea, New Caledonia and Sulawesi). Around half of these are found in south-western Australia, one of the world's great botanical hot spots. Most are shrubs, but there are both trees and ground covers. 

Beefwood Grevillea striata, Maryvale Road, central Australia.
This is a substantial tree of the central deserts.

Foliage may be simple or compound, relatively soft or hard and spiky.

Grevillea bipinnatidifida John Forrest NP, near Perth, Western Australia.

Grevillea barklayana, Ulladulla, south coastal New South Wales.

Grevillea armigera Reynoldson Flora Reserve, south-western Western Australia.

Flowers are paired, but as they are in racemes this is not always obvious. Unusually, the pollen-bearing anthers are attached to the inside of the floral tube; the styles are initially trapped inside the tube, with the stigma in contact with the pollen. When the flowers open as the tube segments fold back, the style springs out to present the pollen. Shortly afterwards it becomes a pollen receptor, the only role it plays in most plants.

Honeysuckle Grevillea G. juncifolia, central Australia, above;
Comb-leaf Grevillea G. pectinata, Salmon Gums, Western Australia, below.
In both we can clearly see the older flowers with extended styles, while in unopened flowers the
styles are still trapped within the tube.
Mostly in racemes the older flowers are at the base (as above) as the tip continues to grow,
but there is no such evident pattern in the photo below.

Sometimes the racemes are short with relatively few flowers.

Grevillea alpina, Micalong Falls west of Canberra.

Rusty Grevillea, or (my favourite) Seven Dwarfs Grevillea G. floribunda,Goobang NP, New South Wales.

Elongated racemes may be 'toothbrush' types, with the flowers all on one side, or bottlebrush type with the flowers all round the stem.

Grevillea cageana, Southern Cross, inland southern Western Australia, above;
Grevillea excelsior, Hyden-Norseman Road, similar area, below.
These are both toothbrush types; see also several examples above.

 

Grevillea candelabroides, Kalbarri NP, Western Australia.
'Like a candelabra' is an excellent description in the species name!
This, and the next two, are examples of bottlebrush-type racemes.

Grevillea paradoxa, Ballidu, south-western Western Australia.

Grevillea petrophiloides, Kalbarri NP, Western Australia.

A few species, with small white flowers, are insect-pollinated, but most rely on birds.

Grevillea biternata, Gawler Ranges NP, South Australia.
See also the Common Crow butterfly on the G. parallela in the photo above.

Dusky Honeyeater Myzomela obscura, on Grevillea cultivar, Darwin.

Grey-headed Honeyeater Lichenostomus keartlandi) on Grevillea wickhamii,Kings Canyon, central Australia.

I hope you've enjoyed this brief visit to the wonderful world of grevilleas as much as I have; my thanks for your company. Perhaps just a few more to finish with...

Desert Grevillea G. eriostacha Kalbarri NP, Western Australia.
A magnificent sight when flowering on red sand dunes.

Woolly Grevillea G. lanigera, Namadgi National Park, near Canberra.
A low shrub growing beneath the Snow Gums.

Grevillea pinaster, South Beekeepers Nature Reserve, south-west Western Australia.

Sandhill Grevillea G. stenobotrya, near Windorah, south-west Queensland.
Another beautiful desert grevillea of the red sand dunes.

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Aguas Verdes; another good news bird ecotourism story

Some time ago, I told the remarkable story of Angel Paz and his cloud forest property Paz de las Aves on the western slopes of the Andes in northern Ecuador. I won't retell his story here - please trust me that it's worth reading if you're interested in the concept and haven't come across his story.

Today I want to tell you about a very recent such enterprise further south on the other side of the Andes and across the border, on the eastern slopes in northern Peru. Norbil Becerra is a carpenter who was intending to turn his small family-owned patch of rainforest just outside of the little town of Aguas Verdes (not to be confused with the town of the same name on the Ecuadorian border) into a coffee plantation, which is the fate of much of the cloud forest around there. At 1500 metres above sea level these forests have a mix of upper and lower elevation species.

Aguas Verdes is not a wealthy town, and it is unsurprising that Norbil's efforts have met with local
opposition and even derision. But as the number of visitors and their money continues to rise, that
may change. (We arrived in a tremendous downpour; we were invited in to the simple open downstairs room
to have a cup of tea while we waited. The pig above trotted in while we were there, but was
only passing through to the back yard.)

Instead, inspired by what he saw at nearby Huembo Lodge (of which more in a forthcoming posting here), he turned his talents to building a viewing platform facing an array of hummingbird feeders. At Huembo he saw the extraordinary Marvellous Spatuletail (see under September in that link) - his first ever hummingbird - and like many before him he was hooked.

Norbil's viewing platform is spacious and impressive, looking not only at feeders but
at plantings of selected flowering plants, chosen to attract both hummingbirds and butterflies.

Feeders (look carefully!) in the shade behind the flowering Verbena hedge.

Norbil's patience and determination were remarkable - it took seven months for the recalcitrant hummers to find the feeders, but he persisted in putting cleaning and refilling the feeders, in the face of great pressure to be sensible, to clear and plant coffee. And in the end they came, and now, just a year or so later, visitors are coming too. We did, last September, and felt hugely rewarded for our walk through streets still running with rainwater and then along a road for a kilometre out of town; fortunately the white sands under the forest drain the storm waters away efficiently.

Blue-fronted Lancebill Doryfera johannae.
This lovely hummer has a remarkably straight bill; it is scarce, though widely-distributed.

Fork-tailed Woodnymph Thalurania furcata, another widespread and truly gloriously
iridescent hummingbird.

Golden-tailed Sapphire Chrysuronia oenone; really, I run out of superlatives for hummers...
This one is found throughout the northern Andes.

Many-spotted Hummingbird Taphrospilus hypostictus, limited to the lower eastern slopes of
the northern Andes.

For me though, the highlight was the truly amazing Wire-crested Thorntail Discosura popelairii. This was not the first time I'd seen it but it was by far the best view I've had, and the only chance I've had to take a moderately acceptable photograph.

Wire-crested Thorntail male at Verbena.
Birdlife International describes it as "generally rare"; Cornell Lab of Ornithology refers to it as "stunning".
It is one of the most enthralling birds I've ever had the privilege of meeting.

I mentioned the butterflies - I can't offer you names (and would be delighted if you could help out) but hopefully you can still enjoy a couple of them in anonymity. 

However Norbil didn't stop there. Much more recently he built a nearby raised hide within the forest, and equipped it with a simple but ingenious mechanism to deliver corn to the forest floor in front of the viewing windows.

Norbil's hide for viewing almost mythically shy and hard-to-see birds of the cloud forest floor.
The corn is delivered though the pipe on the left to the ground below the viewing slots (below).

The bird framed by the viewing slot above is one I'd almost given up hope of seeing - a tinamou! Moreover, not one, but two species wandered in to offer us extended views. Tinamous belong to the ratites, the great flightless Gondwanan birds (ostriches, emus, rheas etc), but unlike their larger relatives they can still fly weakly.

This Cinereous Tinamou Crypturellus cinereus came in early, and others later followed.
It is widespread across northern South America but, like other tinamous, is very secretive.

Later it was joined by a Little Tinamou Crypturellus soui, likewise rarely seen normally.

Little Tinamou, another Aguas Verdes thrill.

Another hard to see resident of the forest interior which came to visit was the pretty little Orange-billed Sparrow Arremon aurantiirostris.

Orange-billed Sparrow, another new species for me.

Grey-necked Wood Rail Aramides cajaneus, perhaps not as hard to see as some of the
others, but hard to imagine a view as spectacular as this one!

White-tipped Dove Leptotila verreauxi.A large and widespread forest species, but not normally easy to approach.

When you're in northern Peru - which is entirely different from the more visited south of the country - there are several reasons to visit this wonderful innovation at Aguas Verdes, not the least of which is to do yourself a favour. But supporting people like Norbil and what he stands for is probably even more important.

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Australian Parrots and Cockies; some one-hit wonders

It seems appropriate to start the year with an Australian topic, and this is one that's been on my mind for a while. Australia (which includes New Guinea for most biological purposes) is a world hot-spot for parrots and cockatoos, the other being South America. I'll be using 'parrots' loosely here, to include all members of the Order Psittaciformes - ie cockatoos, 'true' parrots, and the New Zealand parrots. Australia has 55 species (41 true parrots and 14 cockatoos), representing some 14% of the world's total in roughly 5% of the earth's land area. (By comparison, South America has 2.31 times the area and 2.36 times the number of parrot species, which I find intriguing.)

However, of Australia's 55 species, 11 are the only members of their genus, meaning they divided off from their nearest relatives a long time ago. (I also find it curious that South America has only 12 single-species parrot genera, a much lower percentage, though offhand I can't think what the significance is!)

I find taxa, be they genera or families, with only one member to be particularly interesting, which doubtless tells you something about me; today I want to introduce you to those 11 singular Australians. (The Eclectus Parrot Eclectus roratus could be regarded as an 12th, with the only other species, the Pacific Eclectus Parrot E. infectus of Tonga and Vanuatu, becoming extinct apparently some 200 years ago.)

Male Eclectus Parrot (the female is red), Adelaide Zoo - sorry about that.
I have seen them in their natural habitat in tropical Cape York Peninsula but not managed a photograph.

There are six other genera with only one Australian species, but with other members elsewhere in the region, so I'll leave them for today.

The same is true for me regarding the Palm Cockatoo Probosciger aterrimus as it is for the Eclectus Parrot - that is I've seen it on Cape York, but no photos, sadly. The rest however I can offer you.

The four other cockatoos include two familiar pink species, which both apparently split from the main white cockatoo line long ago.

Galahs Eolophus roseicapilla, Forbes, New South Wales.
These lovely birds today suffer from over-familiarity, but half a century ago they were much less familiar
in the most populated parts of Australia, as they spread south-east with croplands and watering points.

Major Mitchell Cockatoos Lophochroa leadbeateri, north of Bourke, New South Wales.
Named for the controversial explorer Major Thomas Mitchell, whose rhapsodising of them
brought them to popular attention. They are limited to the dry inland.

Gang-gang Cockatoos Callocephalon fimbriatum, by contrast, apparently arose early from the black-cockatoo line.

Gang-gangs (male above, female below), Canberra.
One of the smallest cockatoos, we are particularly fortunate here in Canberra,
the only city where one can see these delightful cockies throughout suburbia.
The name is of indigenous origin - though as is so often the case we are not even sure from which language - and
beautifully captures the creaky-gate call. (I actually am minded of a cork emerging from a wine bottle,
though that is a dying sound in Australia as screw-top caps take over.)

 

The last of our singleton cockies is not always even recognised as one, though it is the world's second-most popular cage bird. (It is no secret that I find the concept of birds alone in small cages to be an immensely depressing one.) The Cockatiel Nymphicus hollandicus is found throughout inland Australia except for the deepest central deserts. Like the Gang-gang its origins are with the black-cockatoos.

Cockatiels, Sturt National Park, far north-western New South Wales.
As seed-eaters they must find water daily.
They are the world's smallest cockatoo.

Male Cockatiel, Mount Magnet, Western Australia.
The name is a diminutive form of 'cockatoo', as adapted from Malay.

And so to the 'true' parrots. The first four of the 'stand alones' we're visiting today are pretty universally agreed to share a common ancestor with each other and the rosellas (that is, more than with other parrots).

The Ringneck Parrot Barnardius zonarius is found over much of the continent; it has four distinctive races, which in the past were regarded as separate species.

Port Lincoln Parrot, race zonarius, Lincoln National Park (appropriately) ,
southern Eyre Peninsula, South Australia. Despite the name, it is found throughout much of
central and western Australia.

Twenty-eight Parrot (for the call), race semitorquatus, north of Perth.
It is limited to the south-west.

Eastern, or Mallee, Ringneck, race barnardi, south-west Queensland.
This is the familiar form in inland eastern Australia.

There is also a very green race, macgillivrayi, called the Cloncurry Ringneck, from a small area of north-western Queensland.

Another widespread inland south-eastern species is the Blue Bonnet Northiella haematogaster; despite the name its most conspicuous feature is its red belly in flight. It is a relatively sombre-coloured parrot, but I'm very fond of them.

Blue Bonnet, Theldarpa Station, north-western New South Wales.
Sometimes the isolated race called Naretha Blue Bonnet, from the Nullarbor Plain,
is regarded as a separate species.

Red-capped Parrot Purpureicephalus spurius, Albany, Western Australia.
Endemic to the south-west corner of the country, the remarkable beak
(which can be almost overlooked in admiration of the colours) is adapted for extracting
the tiny seeds from Marri Eucalyptus (or Corymbia) calophylla.

The relationship of the fourth member of this quartet to the others and to rosellas is less obvious, but I'm happy to accept the DNA evidence. The little Swift Parrot Lathamus discolor is in terrible trouble from a range of causes, including logging in its Tasmanian breeding grounds in the Blue Gum Eucalyptus globulus forests, loss of woodlands on the mainland where it spends winter, and predation on the nest by imported Sugar Gliders. 

Swift Parrot, Mount Majura, Canberra. In the mainland woodlands they are nomads, following the eucalypt blossoms.
The genus name is for John Latham, English ornithological giant (albeit somewhat erratic) at the turn of
the 18th-19th centuries.

Another inland parrot in this club is the Bourke's Parrot Neopsephotus bourkii, a subtly-coloured and retiring bird found sparsely across a huge swathe of the arid lands. The name commemorates Governor Richard Bourke, a nineteenth century liberal-minded New South Wales governor with a tragic life.

Bourke's Parrot, above and below, Thargomindah, south-west Queensland.
I find it very hard to get good pictures of these; even having found them, it is
very difficult to get close to them.

 

And finally, another desert-dweller and probably Australia's best-known parrot - though ironically most of the people around the world who keep Budgerigars in cages (see comment above under Cockatiels!) are probably unaware that they are either Australian or even parrots. When I see wonderful flocks of Budgies flashing past the vehicle in the vast outback, I feel very sad to think of them kept in solitary confinement far from home. For it is the Budgerigar which has the dubious honour of being the world's most popular cage bird.

Budgerigar Melopsittacus undulatus, Mullewa, Western Australia.
The male is on the left, with the blue cere (the waxy structure above the bill).
Budgies have such wonderful stories that they deserve their own posting, and
will receive it one day.

So, there they are - 11 parrots which are the sole members of their genus. I hope you've enjoyed meeting them as much as I've enjoyed presenting them to you. Even more, I hope you can meet them one day on their own ground, if you've not already done so.

And so 2016 has started! Perhaps a visit to South America next time.

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Farewell to 2015!

As I have made traditional, to mark the changing of years I've selected just one photo from each month of 2015 to commemorate the year past. As ever I don't make any pretences to photographic excellence, but have chosen the pictures because of their associations, and in most cases they are ones I've not previously used this year in a blog posting.

It's been a busy and enjoyable year - as all years should be as far as we can make them so - and I hope this selection of photos reflects this.

JANUARY

Chestnut-quilled Rock Pigeon Petrophassa rufipennis, Burrunggui
(formerly known, erroneously, as Nourlangie Rock), Kakadu National Park.
We spent a week visiting my sister and brother-in-law in Darwin in 'the Wet', an experience in itself.
The highlight however was a couple of nights in Kakadu, one of the world's great parks.
This beautiful pigeon is endemic to the Top End sandstone, almost exclusively within Kakadu.
It is hard to see without climbing into the escarpment, but this one emerged almost at our feet. Very special.

 FEBRUARY

Tall Wasp Orchid Chiloglottis trilabra, Mongarlowe, New South Wales.
I made a specific trip to a grassy site here, about an hour east of Canberra, to look for some orchids, including
this one. It's one of those which fool male wasps into attempted mating by simulating a female, both
in appearance and scent. I found the resemblance of the remarkable structure on the labellum to an insect
surprisingly compelling.

 MARCH

Highland Copperhead Austrelaps ramsayi, south of Canberra.
For some reason March was a quiet month photographically - I always seem to have one of those -
but I like the scale detail and colouring of this beautiful, venomous but amiable frog-specialist.

APRIL

Brolgas Grus rubicunda near Clermont, inland central Queensland.
In late April I drove a bus north to Cairns in tropical Queensland to meet a tour group.
It was a long drive with limited stops, but early one morning I was stopped by a series of small
groups of Brolgas, one of our two native cranes, flying in from the west, passing low over the road
and landing to feed in the sorghum. I watched for some 20 minutes, by which time there were hundreds
on the ground, but still they came. Many, including these, were young birds.

MAY

Frill-necked Lizard Chlamydosaurus kingii, Mareeba Wetlands, north Queensland.
Not easy picking just one photo from the richness of the Wet Tropics, but this is it. Nearly a metre long,
I've long wanted to see this magnificent lizard, but it's only possible in summer - in winter it goes into a torpor in
the tree canopies. It was a specific goal in January in Kakadu, but no luck. This one was a complete surprise;
I have no idea why it was active in May, but I am very glad it was!

JUNE

Sunda Colugo Galeopterus variegatus, Bako National Park, Sarawak.
Another difficult month to decide on just one photo, because this was when I was 'sent' to Malaysian
Borneo to do some reconnaissance for a potential future tour. This is another animal I'd long wanted to see,
but never hoped to actually to do so. Also called a 'flying lemur' (though it doesn't fly and is absolutely
not a lemur!) it is an accomplished glider, roosting during the day on a tree trunk. Two species
are recognised, though this one may well be divided into three. It has no close relatives, but is
distantly related to the primates.

JULY

Morning frost on a native daisy bush in our Canberra garden.
Another quiet month for photography - a lull between periods of frenetic activity.
Though this was yet another record-breaking warm year (does any sane person still not accept that
we're warming the place up?!), we had some hard winter frosts.

AUGUST

Lago Miscanti, Atacama Desert, northern Chile, at 4,100 metres above sea level.
Travelling again, this time to northern Chile and southern Peru, again accompanying a group.
The Atacama has long been on my must-see list, so another special trip. Despite a distinct shortage of oxygen in the air
and bitter cold, this was one of the most stunning scenes I'd ever seen.

SEPTEMBER

Marvellous Spatuletail Loddigesia mirabilis, Huembo Lodge, northern Peru. Northern Peru (a post-tour reconnaissance for the future) was another eye-opener. Again I could have offered any of dozens of pictures, but this extraordinary hummingbird was yet another on my wish-list since seeing it featured in an Attenborough series. This picture doesn't
do justice to the surreal tail, but you get the idea. It is limited to a very small area on the eastern slopes
of the Andes in north Peru.

OCTOBER

Shingleback Lizard Tiliqua rugosa amid Hoary Sunrays Leucochrysum albicans, Forbes Creek near Canberra.
Back home for the year and glad to be. I've been a fan of Sleepy Lizards (as we called them in South Australia) since
I was a child, and I couldn't resist this one ambling insouciantly through the daisies on a warm afternoon.

NOVEMBER

Native Bee at (exotic) Passiflora flower, Nowra.
One of my great pleasures when we visit my partner's parents on the edge of Nowra, near the coast a couple
of hours to the north of Canberra, is to wander the extensive gardens looking for both birds and smaller
animals, both of which abound. I was fascinated by the parade of tiny native bees (which were avoiding
the far bigger exotic Honeybees) attracted to these passionfruit flowers.

DECEMBER

Diphucephala sp. (a scarab beetle), fly and flower spider sharing a Billy Button Daisy Craspedia sp. head,
Mount Ginini, Namadgi National Park above Canberra.
It was an excellent flower day, but it was this little grouping which really caught my attention.
I don't think the beetle was at risk, but I'm not nearly so sure about the fly!

So, that was my 2015 (or at least one version of it); I hope you got as much fleeting pleasure from rewalking it with me as I did in putting it together. I hope too that your year will also live on in happy memories for you, and that 2016 can bring us all more of the joys of nature, and a more peaceful planet.

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