Running naked!

Well, no, not precisely naked - but more running without distractions and unnecessary equipment, allowing runners to interact more with those around them and with their environment.
This is the philosophy of the Naked Runners as they like to call themselves. In reality they are Silas Moss (an exercise scientist) and Dave Robertson (a physiotherapist) both from Newcastle and they have made it their mission to get people moving more and having fun at the same time.
Reading their blog made me think about what kind of runner I was. I'm not exactly a naked runner in the purest sense. I do measure distance and time with my Sportband and I do wear traditional running shoes. The purists would have us wear no shoes at all as shoes change our natural running style. My husband is somewhere in between. He wears Vibram FiveFingers - monkey feet as we like to call them - which are a little like foot gloves.

Vibram Fivefingers

In some respects however, I am a naked runner. I don't wear a heart rate monitor, carry a phone (unless I'm running to a coffee date), take fluids or gels (there's always a drinking fountain somewhere if I need one) or even wear loose clothing as I find it flaps around and distracts me or makes me far too hot. But most importantly for me, I don't run with music. I did for a while when I first got into running, but I soon found I'd really rather listen to the sounds around me - usually on the Barwon where of course I have done the majority of my running.
For instance, the sound of someone on a fast moving bike approaching from behind is always something I'd prefer to hear! But aside from safety concerns, listening to the sounds of the plants (yes) and animals and the river itself can be fascinating.

Sunset on the Barwon

Whenever I am by the river - run, walk or ride - I always count how many species of birds I can see or hear. Trying to keep track of which I've seen tends to take a little of my mind off what my lungs are trying to tell me while I'm running. Not surprisingly, I notice far more whilst walking than running or riding.
Other sounds along the river can also be of interest and are often weather- dependant. Wind tends to blow away most of the birds, but brings the noise of the trees to the fore. Running under the sheoaks on a windy day is almost like moving into another world. Their sound is unmistakable - as is the sensation of bare skin being stabbed by their falling needles! Now, there's a sensory experience! Likewise, on a still, overcast day when the Currawongs congregate in the sheoaks the tension is palpable.

Pied Currawong

Snippets of conversation from passing pedestrians can also be intriguing. As a couple jogged past me the other day I heard him say to her: "the first 21km shouldn't be too hard..." Who was he kidding?? Marathon runners I'm thinking.
So, I'm not exactly a naked runner, more a minimally clad runner perhaps. Now I'm off to have a think about how and why I run...perhaps there's another post in it...

Currawong tails

Okay, I'm puzzled. I am hardly and expert when it comes to bird identification, but I thought I had my currawongs sorted - until yesterday. I had headed out for a gentle ride around the river via Fyansford and Breakwater, snapping some photos as I went.
As I headed down from Queen's Park towards Princes Bridge, I spotted a feathered tail hanging from a branch arching over the path. At first glance the underside was black and white striped. Upon closer inspection I discovered it was black tail feathers of varying lengths, each with a white tip giving the banded appearance. What was interesting about this was that the tail was attached to a Pied Currawong.
Now, to this point in time all the Pied Currawongs I'd seen had the typical white undertail and then a thin band of white at the tip - like this guy photographed in my backyard in April, 2010.

Pied Currawong April, 2010

This one looked similar to the bird in my tree at home, with the exception of the tail feathers. Curious, I went back to the same part of the river again today to see if I could find him/her again. I didn't have to look too hard before I was able to locate not one, but a pair of currawongs in the same area as yesterday. Both had the same tail markings I had seen on yesterday's bird.

Pied Currawong 1

I spent quite some time taking shots and they allowed me to approach to within a few metres, watching closely but not particularly concerned by my interest. Initially they busied themselves shredding the bark off the branch they were perched on before scooping out any creepy crawlies to be found inside. The only concern they showed was when they moved to a tree near a magpie who then attempted unsuccessfully to send them on their way. The magpie soon retreated and peace was restored.

Pied Currawong 2

So, armed with what I hoped was ample evidence to prove my point, I finished taking my shots and left them to it.
Now, several hours and many webpages later, I am still none-the-wiser as to what I am seeing here. My question for those who read my blog and know more about birds than I do (and  suspect there are a few) is this: are these juvenile birds whose tail feathers have yet to grow out properly or am I looking at two of the six different subspecies of Pied Currawong?
Certainly one of the two birds I saw today had paler grey feathers on its chest and could have been a young one. Neither looked anything like the rather large Grey Currawong I saw a couple of months back near Baum's Weir which was the subject of an earlier post nor were there any calls from these birds - although I did hear others calling further upstream on the opposite side of the river.

Finally, while I'm discussing currawongs, I noticed that the topic of the appropriate collective noun for these guys was a recent point of discussion on Denis Wilson's "The Nature of Robertson" blog here. When I first read this post, I was sure I had the answer to that one, but after looking back over my own currawong posts, it seems I do not, so I too would be interested to know if there is such a noun.

"Clink! Clunk!"

My previous blog about Currawongs has proven to be one of my more popular posts, so when I managed to snap a couple of photos of a Grey Currawong as I was walking around Mt Brandon Peninsula during the week, I thought it was time to revisit the topic.

Grey Currawong

As I said previously, Pied Currawongs can be seen regularly at many points along the Barwon and in surrounding areas - including my backyard. Grey Currawongs are a different matter.
Until this week, I had never seen one. This may not be such a surprise as Grey Currawongs are not as numerous as their pied cousins and their numbers have suffered as a result of habitat loss with the arrival of European settlement.
As the name suggests, they are a grey bird with the piercing yellow eye typical of all currawongs and their shape and size is also similar. Their colouring however is somewhat different. They do have the white-tipped tail seen in Pied Currawongs, however their plumage is usually grey or grey-brown rather than black. Just to complicate the issue, there are six recognised subspecies of the Grey Currawong, each with variations in colour.

Grey Currawong

As far as I can tell, this particular bird was probably of the versicolor type. This is the "nominate" or original type to be identified and is found in the east of Victoria and New South Wales. It is grey to brown in colour and has white on its wingtips. Other subspecies are the Brown Currawong (intermedia), found in South Australia. It is a darker grey-brown colour. The Clinking Currawong (arguta) is large and sooty black coloured and found only in Tasmania whilst the halmaturina subspecies is dark coloured and lighter-weight than other subspecies and found only on Kangaroo Island. The Black-winged Currawong (melanoptera) is found in the Mallee and into South Australia and the plumbea subspecies (also called squeaker) is found in the west of the country.
Unlike the other subspecies, the Squeaker and Black Currawongs have no white on their wings.
The names Squeaker and Clinking Currawong come from the call of the Grey Currawong which is said to sound like a high-pitched "clink" or ringing sound. From memory, the couple of calls I heard were  coarser and more like a croak. Certainly nothing like the call of the Pied Currawong.
The experts also inform me that these guys spend more time on the ground forraging for food than their pied counterparts, which fits  with the behaviour I was seeing in this bird. They are omnivores who eat all manner of creepy crawlies as well as fruit, seeds, eggs and carrion.
They also nest high in trees, making it hard to study their nesting habits. Co-incidentally or not, high in a eucalypt not far from where I observed this bird, was a nest of sticks. I don't know who it belongs to, but perhaps it bears further investigation.

"Currawong! Currawong!"

Pied Currawong

One of my favourite bird calls is that of the Currawong. I have read that the name is onomatopoeic, meaning that it derives from the sound of their call and it doesn't take too much imagination to translate the repetitive, double-barrelled "caw-aw, caw-aw" into "currawong, currawong". It has been said that in the early days of European settlement in Australia, the unfamiliar calls of the Currawong were mistaken for the voices of ghosts, so haunting and unfamiliar were they to those who did not know the environment.

Grey Butcher Bird

The species of Currawong most commonly found on the Barwon is the Pied Currawong which at first glance is similar to a Crow or Raven but is only distantly related. Currawongs are actually more closely related to  Butcher Birds and Australian Magpies, all being from the same family group, however the Currawong is generally larger and has less white on its body than a Magpie - parts of the wing tips and tail - and a yellow eye.

The diet of these birds is broadly similar too, with Currawongs feeding on insects, small animals, berries and some smaller species of birds. Its propensity to eat fruit makes the Currawong responsible for a significant amount of seed distribution within its habitat. In addition, I have first-hand evidence of their taste for Sparrows, having watched from my back doorstep as a Currawong made a meal of one such unfortunate creature, sitting in a tree and spitting small feathers all over my backyard.

Like Butcher Birds, who are named for the trait, Currawongs will sometimes use the fork of a tree or a convenient hollow to store food for later consumption, even hanging it on on a convenient branch.

Australian Magpie

Another, quite eerie experience with Currawongs occurred on a still, overcast day last year. It was one of those days when the atmosphere felt so heavy you had to push your way through it. I was on one of my regular walks around the river, camera in hand. What sounds I could hear were muffled and most of the birds seemed to be in hiding. As I made my way upriver towards Queen's Park the weather became increasingly gloomy.

There is a section not far from the bridge where a stand of sheaoks line the path on either side, meeting overhead in places and on this occasion, further adding to the dim, oppressive atmosphere. As I approached, I could hear Currawongs calling from up ahead. Once inside the stand of trees, I was greeted by the sight of a dozen or more Pied Currawongs perched on the branches of one of the sheaoks. For the most part, they remained where they were, looking at me with their yellow eyes, not moving, just watching, seemingly unconcerned by my presence. There was no doubt in my mind at that time that the Currawong is a bird of prey.

Pied Currawong eating
a Sparrow

Like Crows, Ravens and other similar species, they have the long, curved beak which marks them as a meat-eater and their predominantly black plumage on this occasion added to the foreboding atmosphere. In combination with their unearthly calls, this created a distinctly eerie scene. I in turn stopped to watch them for a time, before moving on and heading up and across the bridge. As I once again passed by that section of the river - this time on the opposite bank - I could still hear them calling from amongst the branches. I find their call one of the most evocative sounds of the Australian bush - a call I have known for decades, even before I knew what Currawongs were.

Whilst I have never again seen them congregate in such numbers in any one place, I occasionally hear them calling from those same trees and sometimes in my backyard - no doubt looking for another Sparrow or two.