This week saw us wrap up bird surveys and commence general wildlife surveys- the aim was the same, only this time it was to survey the other vertebrate fauna on the sanctuary. In addition to the charismatic fauna, Scotia hosts a range of small mammals and reptiles [some already previously discussed]. The technique utilised was classic pitfalling: using the same GPS-marked sites used for the bird surveys, an array of buckets and funnels [essentially crab pot-style cages] was set up and everything that was caught in them identified and tallied. Surveys were conducted on a four-day rotation with three sites [sampling each main ecotype] open each time, which meant we were around for at least two-and-a-half rotations; we had planned to leave on either the 7th or 8th. The first day involved some degree of labour: digging in and opening up sites; I was grateful that we didn’t have to dig in anything much harder than wet sand. Jeremy regaled us with stories of having to dig in clay and blacksoil during a previous volunteer stint on another AWC sanctuary in the Kimberley, and suffice to say that sounded like a much less pleasurable experience!
Once we had the traps open we were on our way: skinks and dragons abounded, especially the Ctenotus and Ctenophorus species mentioned earlier. We also got
one Common Dwarf Skink (Menetia grayii), as the name suggests, one of the smallest skinks in Australia. The belah woodland site yielded a Marbled Gecko (Oedura marmorata)(right), a fine-looking creature of velvet black with a galaxy of white spots and markings. The only other gecko to show up was a familiar face, the Beaded Gecko (Lucasium damaeum) (below). Mammals were thinner on the ground, but we still turned up some gems: a Bolam’s Mouse (Pseudomys bolami) and a Southern Ningaui (Ningaui yvonnae) showed up in our traps, along with –much less pleasantly– a House Mouse (Mus musculus) which got a firm bite of one of our ecologists. Another trapping group found a Common Dunnart (Sminthopsis murina), which, like the Ningaui, belongs to a much-overlooked group of carnivorous marsupials known colloquially as marsupial ‘mice’. These creatures are mouse by name, but the similarity ends there; benign seed and insect-eaters these are not: the vision of these animals being ‘cute and fluffy’ diminishes significantly once you see one attack and eat a scorpion, centipede or even a snake several times its size. 
Despite our efforts, this first haul was actually decidedly mediocre. Our species count was rather low, and our tallies indicated generally lower densities of such animals. One theory was that because we were sampling within the electric fence, the presence of higher numbers of predatory mammals, comprising the numbats, bettongs and bilbies, meant higher levels of predation. This was ostensibly backed up by the other group’s findings, who worked on sites outside of the main fenced area and found increased numbers of animals. We would have to wait until our next round of trapping, conducted outside the fences, to see good numbers. That is, if the weather would cooperate…
What did I say about the weather cooperating? That week saw the sand dry and the temperature steadily climb, to the point that we had our first 30 degree day on the first day of our second trap rotation. The heat was on, the reptiles were bouncing, activity was climbing and we were set to see piles of critters in our buckets; what could go wrong? A huge outback squall, that’s what, that dumped almost 50mm of rain on us in less than three hours and forced us to shut our traps midway through the rotation. By then we were prepping to leave, so were denied the full potential of the trapping effort. C’est la nature.
Eastern Spiny-tailed Gecko (Strophurus williamsi)Oh well, we at least managed to wring a good first day out of them, in which we managed to get more of the same old, and a couple of other interesting new species. Our belah site yielded a couple of Fence Skinks (Cryptoblepharus carnabyi) [it says something of the flux state this genus is in that I can’t be 100% sure this is the species; a recent study has more than doubled the total number of Cryptoblepharus species in Australia], while our spinifex site, by far the most productive of all the habitats, yielded a Southeastern Morethia (Morethia boulengeri) and a fine specimen of a Desert Skink (Liopholis inornata), an arresting-looking creature known throughout the camp as a “Chubba”. Cute in the face they may be, but they’re nippy buggers that don’t like
to be handled, with a good set of jaws and [thankfully blunt] teeth. The bite I got was a nip, however, compared to the one Jeremy copped from an Eastern Hooded Scaly-foot (Pygopus schraderi) (left), a large legless lizard which left his finger bruised and bleeding. Jeremy and I were operating in separate groups by now, and his group also managed to trap a Ringed Brown Snake (Pseudonaja modesta) (below), unbelievably the first snake of the whole trip between us; we would not see another in the few days we had left on the sanctuary, meaning that I had passed an entire three-week excursion in the Australian outback without seeing a single snake.
Other gems to show up in the traps included a Broad-banded Sand-swimmer (Eremiascincus richardsonii) (left) and the one Ctenotus skink that I have so far neglected to mention, the large Short-clawed Ctenotus (Ctenotus brachyonyx). We did miss a few things we were hoping for, but Colin, an Honours student doing research at the sanctuary, was doing some pitfalls of his own and brought back a few interesting critters: a pair of Jewelled Geckos (Strophurus elderi), an Eastern Spiny-tailed Gecko (S. williamsi) and perhaps most curious of all, a pair of Smooth Knob-tailed Geckos (Nephrurus levis) (below). On our last evening on the sanctuary, we took one last night walk, tracing the same path we took on our second day. Our good mate Jesse had arrived that evening for his own weeklong volunteer stint and we were glad to have some overlapping time. He soon turned up one more new gecko: a Beaked Gecko (Rhynchoedura ornata), while the Lucasium geckos and burrowing toads (top of article) were more than obliging.
Birding-wise, our diverted focus meant less attention paid to avifauna, but new things, though few and far between, still showed up. This was the week when we finally managed to sight the Splendid Fairy-wren (Malurus splendens), Jeremy’s first ever and my first since 2003. On the evening of setting up our second trap sites, we passed a section of fire scar absolutely chock-full of Budgerigars, and in amongst them were two pairs of Elegant Parrots (Neophema elegans). I was hoping to encounter this species at Scotia, but their appearance was still unexpected and a genuine surprise; props to the station’s ecologist who initially spotted them. With the deep blue of their wings firmly contrasting with their grassy green bodies brought into relief by the burnishing orange sunset, they were a picture against the evening outback sky. We had however split groups by then, so Jeremy missed them. Speaking of birds Jeremy missed…
We took advantage of the interim between trapping sessions to have a second stab at the Malleefowl mound. We were determined this time to not have the bird give us the run-around, though it seems even with our best efforts we underestimated the bird’s wariness and intelligence. We arrived at the now-familiar empty nest, and having lingered awhile without having turned up anything, were about to give up again when we heard the male’s distinctive booming resonating through the scrub, not 30m away. We ambled around the general area fruitlessly, then decided to change tack: we would sit in a concealed spot which would afford us a clear view of the nest from about 20m, and wait for the bird to show up. Fifteen minutes into our wait, and we heard the booming again. I looked over our shoulders and there he was, standing in the spinifex about 10m away, head cocked in our direction. He spotted us, took three steps backwards and melted back into the mallee; the whole sighting could not have been for more than three seconds.
We hurried to the spot where we saw him but knew we didn’t have a prayer; it was well and truly gone. The Malleefowl had been standing over where we had previously trod; the wily old bird had the wherewithal to trace our footsteps and find us. Jeremy was despondent; I had a clear view of the bird, but he, sitting right next to me, had his view thoroughly obscured by the tall spinifex. He still blames my choice of attire for him missing out[I was wearing a white soccer jersey at the time while he was in hunting camouflage]; it certainly didn’t help that stories periodically popped up of people seeing Malleefowl elsewhere in the sanctuary, running across roads or along the fences. In the end, I suppose I pity him, and it is my hope that in some future sojourn he will get another opportunity.
No comments:
Post a Comment