Whipbirds

The river trail was filled today with the glorious song of the Eastern Whipbird, the hooping of the pheasant-like Coucal and the chattering of flycatchers, wrens and other LBBs (Litte Brown Birds). The Whipbird's sonorous whistle echoes across the valley. Mostly, says the birdbook, they are heard but not seen so it was a special moment watching a pair of these smalll birds hop through the branches, chattering and singing (Frith, 1976).

The clever musicality of the Whipbird is created by both male and female singing together. The male starts off with his characteristic smooth 'Whip!', then the female completes the call with a high-pitched, drawn-out and beautiful 'choo-eeeeeee'. And here they were, the two of them, looking splendid, their head crests raised slightly, their olive feathered backs blending into the leafy canopy, and their fan-like tail swishing back and forth dancing among the branches.

Whipbirds are very active but shy. They forage in the leaf litter and logs lying on the ground searching for insects and larvae. And the birdbook reveals something else that's special about the Whipbird - they are 'an ancient group of species that are found no where else' (Frith, 1976: 396).

There's been a lot of rain lately. It's flooding in many locations across southern Queensland causing havoc. Here the river is running high, fast and brown. Lots of people are out and about jogging, rowing, walking their dogs, and as their dogs splash in the shallows between the Mangroves, we talk about the height of the river, the very high tidal flows and the return of the wet.

Looking up at what were sad and seemingly dead trees a few weeks ago, clumps of new shoots have begun sprouting from the branches, while the birds heralding the rain, the new growth and the revitalised life along the riverbank.

Reference
Frith HJ, 1976, Reader's Digest Complete Book of Australian Birds, Surry Hills, Reader's Digest Services Pty Ltd.

Black, White and Bountiful

I heard a kind of bark from up in the eucalypt trees. There it is again. I look up bewildered; can't see anything by leaves. Then suddenly, from the canopy, an Ibis lifts off and flies down the river. An Ibis is no small bird but this bird was invisible in the tree as if its black and white feathers merged into the leafy cover.

So I began to think about all the black and white birds along the riverbank - Magpies, Mudlarks, Willie Wagtails, Currawongs, Butcher Birds - and wondered how being black and white creates the illusion of camouflage and blurs the creature into the background. Fiona Sunquist (1996) had the same thought. In an article entitled 'The colorful world of black white - black and white animals', she points out that many animal and bird species throughout the world wear black and white costumes. First, it's to grab attention and tell potential predators that danger awaits them if they tackle the black and whites. Second, it's to hide; the colours act as a disguise so the creature can't be seen against the undergrowth or leafy canopy. Sunquist says:

'Such concealment is all a matter of context. Jays and magpies have black-and-white feathers that are highly conspicuous in the open. But when a bird dives for cover, its outline vanishes, and the white bars and patches look more like splashes of sunlight among the leaves.' My experience exactly.

Then there's the enticing black and white striped Carpet Snake but their vanishing perhaps has more to do with them eating the poisonous cane toads rather than being in hiding, waiting to pounce. And animals from Pandas to Lemurs, Shunks to Zebras, Orcas to Colubus Monkeys, many of them serioiusly endangered in their wild, use their colour scheme to deceive.

Other birds use their colour to attract. The other birds along the river today displayed a feast of colour. Rainbow Lorikeets. Galahs pink and grey, Red Wrens. White Cockatoos, Brush Turkeys showing off their red and yellow. Male birds dress in feathered finery to attract a mate. Bower birds build wee nests and decorate them. Spendid plumage and sexuality go hand in hand.

Black and white birds, and the glossy black Raven, have something in common. Perhaps it is that they are more fearsome and their colour scheme is a marker to beware. Today when the whole gang arrived for their breakfast, Butcher Birds + brown baby, Currawongs, Magpies + babies, Raven + baby, I thought how wonderful it is to have these beautiful beautiful creatures visiting and how sad, that even walking back from the river, aborists were cutting down more and more trees.

Reference
Sunquist F, 1996, 'The Colorful World of Black White - Black and White Animals,' International Wildlife, May-June.

Water Rights

David Groenfeldt is the Executive Director of the Santa Fe Watershed Association in Santa Fe, New Mexico. The Santa Fe River he cares for has recently been declared the most endangered river in the US.

When I first spoke to David Groenfelt he told me something amazing. It was a different way of seeing a river system and the relationship between humans and the water.

Humans believe they have rights to river water. For drinking, sewerage, irrigation, and recreation. They think this becuase they pay for access to water in the form of water rights. They have a right to the flowing stream's water or the meandering river's water. But what happens when their use rights drain the river and the surrounding ecosystem of its lifeblood? The outcome, a drying or dried up river and a paradox where the river has no rights, even to its own water.

Taking this outcome to its extreme - how much would a river pay for access rights to its own water? As can be seen in many areas across the globe, the river pays with its life.

Over the weekend the media reported two damaging river stories. The first in The Australian newspaper told the terrible story of how the parts of Murray River have turned to acid. The effect - an acid river that brings death to animals, birds, fish, frogs and insects that drink from and live in its hazardous waters. River Red Gums and other riverbank vegetation is also slowly dying. There is no relief in sight.

The acidic water is caused by the drought and over-irrigation taking the precious flow. The article says acid waters occur in areas that used to flood regularly but now these areas have become dry. The low river levels have allowed the iron pyrite in the soil (a by-product of decaying organic matter) to come into contact witih oxygen. This process acts like a chemical reaction forming sulphuric acid. The solution? Rain and stronger river flows.

The second media story focused on the Darling River. The ABC Landline journalist stood in the heart of the river, in sand and stones, sadly not flowing water, and spoke about its plight. Interviewees on the program not only mentioned the huge economic losses to the farming and tourism sectors, they also talked about the disappearance of water birds to the area. And their loss of place.

A dried up river, once the life-bringing waterway of inland Queensland and NSW, is suffering from an over-abundance of irrigation licences for inappropriate agriculture. One of the inteviewees put it this way:

'In the years before 2006 we had what I call the cotton drought. The irrigators upstream took so much water out of the river that we just didn't get the flows through that we should have got, and we didn't get the small floods through that are essential for the flood plains.' (Barney Stevens, Darling River Action Group, 2007).

Other farmer interviewees simply said the river is dying. A huge huge cost when humans do not recognise this simple need: that rivers need rights to their own water.

Reference
Wallace R, 2008, 'River of death where water turns into acid,' The Australian, Jan 12, 2008
Willacy M, 2007, 'Community rallies to save the Darling River,' ABCTV Landline, Jan 13, 2008, originally aired on June 17, 2007.

Life for Rivers

Rivers for Life is a very insightful book covering the need for global care of water and river systems for both people and nature. Written by Sandra Postel and Brian Richter (2003) from the Global Water Policy Project, Rivers of Life's first chapter is titled: Where Have All the Rivers Gone? It documents the impact wrought by human development through changing infrastructure (such as dams, hydro-projects, dredging etc.) on rivers, wetlands and other freshwater ecosystems, so much so that the health of the river and the plant and animal species that dwell in and along the river are threatened. The authors estimate that worldwide that 'a significant proportion of fresh water species ...including 20 percent of freshwater fish species ... are at risk of extinction or are already extinct.' (2003:3)

Healthy river systems are fast disappearing. But at the same time there is a host of activists, river and wetlands restorers who are working to re-create river health and wellbeing. Postel and Richter advise rivers should be valued for their own sake not only for the services they provide the human community. They comment: 'Rivers are more than conduits for water. They are complex systems that do complicated work.' (4)

What's needed for the restoration of river systems is all the scientific research that's being done as well as great encouragement for people to care for local waterways. One suggestion is to tell river stories from the present and the past, e.g. stories from indigenous communities and from the early days of white settlement when cotton growing, sugar cane farms and cattle stations spread out along the river. People may become more aware, more engaged and perhaps more motivated to take action to protect the river environs.

Talking to people I meet on the trail teaches me so much about the river and its history. We discuss the birds we've seen, the experiences of flood times, how tough it was for the early settlers in clearing the luscious rainforest for farmland and more generally, about the threat of encroaching development. And we work together to care for the precious bushland. Each day I pull up a number of noxious weeds but with the recent fantastic rain, the weeds are growing faster and taller than my ability to rip them up them; it seems impossible to combat their spread.

Postel and Richter are optimistic that people will learn to appreciate the natural environment including rivers and so might replicate the 'complicated work' that rivers do by lobbying for river education and river health. To this end the authors make a serious plea:

'Unless human communities begin to adapt to natural cycles and coexist with aquatic communities, those natural communities will disappear and the ecological work they perform will be lost.' (202).

They call for an ethic of stewardship which respects 'the beauty and mystery' of the natural world while at the same time demanding from governments a more aware, community-embedded active rivercare program.

One of the case sudies from Rivers of Life is the Brisbane River and its deteriorating health. Postel and Richter point to the extent of land clearing where now only 14 percent of the whole river catchment area where most people live 'remains uncleared' (133). They document a litany of river impacts that have severely affected the river flow, from construction of dams to changes in waterway vegetation which interferes with 'shading and temperature controls' raising the likelihood of 'algal blooms and lowering dissolved oxygen levels.' (135, citing Arthington et al, 2000).

The list of concerns continues with the loss of biodiversity and subsequent loss of habitat for bird, animal and fish species, including the platypus.

To combat these problems (or are they horrors?), a number of counter strategies are suggested. It requires concerted and combined action among all stakeholders and residents but of course, such suggestions to restore healthy river systems may (or invariably do) bring conflict, as ecological demands can disturb policy and development desires and outcomes. Postel and Richter (2003:137) write:

'This conflict between managing the Brisbane River for human purposes versus meeting the river's own needs for water is one that arises on virtually every river. ... Complete restoration of the Brisbane's natural flow regime would likely cause too much disruption to landowners and water users to be publicly acceptable.'

In the end such conflict is played out between humans and nature where nature's voice is rarely heard. At the moment the Butcher Bird is sitting on the verandah singing the most glorious chorus and sounding, on occasion, like the Magpie, the Kookaburra and of course, itself. I love that. The very melodic refrain of the Butcher Bird reminds me how important it is to value local river systems and trees and get involved in that complicated work of the ecosystem of which, we humans too, are part.

References
Arthington AH et al, 2000, Environmental Flow Requirements of the Brisbane River Downstream from Wivenhoe Dam, Brisbane, Queensland: South East Queensland Water Corporation, and Centre for Catchment and In-Stream Research of Griffith University.
Postel S and B Richter, 2003, Rivers For Life: Managing Water for People and Nature, Washington, DC: Island Press.

From Drought to Flooding Rain

Just a couple of weeks ago the whole area was in the midst of a long-term drought. Now there is severe flooding throughout SE Queensland and northern NSW. Today the rain pelted down in thick sheets; visibility was almost non-existent, and although the river level here is slightly higher that it has been recently, the Brisbane River has not experienced the widespread damage and disruption felt in other regions. Fierce storms, wild winds, massive rainfall and chaotic seas have created havoc. Rivers have become lakes, hectares of farmland and scrubland have been inundated, and beaches have been washed away.

In contrast all is quiet along the river. As I walked among the chittering of cicadas and other insects, the splendour of bird call and the sound of Brush Turkey chicks scurrying through the undergrowth, it was hard to imagine that not so far away the SES Emergency Services are hard at work rescuing people and animals caught by the unexpected floods.

While all was calm along the Brisbane River today, it has not always been the case. Early explorers reported heavy rains and flooding of the river on numerous occasions throughout the 1800s. For instance, in 1857 a report in the local Brisbane newspaper reported:

'The flood ... was the result of eight weeks' continuous, but not heavy, rain. There had been a strong fresh in the river for several weeks, and ... all vehicular traffic between North and South Brisbane was suspended as the horse-punt at Russell-street was unable to cross on account of the strong current ... Rowing boats were plying in Margaret, Mary, and Charlotte streets ... and the whole of the low-lying ground from Elizabeth-street to the river was a muddy lake. At South Brisbane one could stand on a hill ... and see an unbroken sheet of water...'

1867: 'The rain continued to fall incessantly until daylight. In consequence of this heavy rain the river rose, and never within the last twenty years have the indications of a flood shown themselves within so short a period ...A strong current was running down the river all Sunday, carrying with it large quantities of drift timber in single logs and rafts as well as other debris ... The temporary bridge linking north and south Brisbane acted as a dam and collapsed ... as a result of the debris piling up against it.'

1893: 'Disastrous floods in the Brisbane River ... Numbers of houses ... washed down the rivers. Seven men drowned...' 'Crowds lined the high grounds near the river bank or wherever a good view was obtainable; and the roar of the water as it rushed along at a speed of from 8 to 10 miles an hour, carrying with it scores of houses, furniture and household articles in endless variety...'

Floods continued to be reported over the next 100 years. January 26, 1974 was recorded as the wettest day since 1887:

'The Brisbane River ... reached the highest level this century ... 14 lives were lost, some 8,000 householders were affected, many totally destroyed, others damaged to the tune of thousands of dollars as a result of inundation and battering from both strong currents and water borne debris.'

The Brisbane River is described as 'flood-prone', with 11 major floods recorded since the 1840s. But since those early days of white settlement, the way that media reports have covered the floods has shifted from evocative and scenic descriptions of the devastation to the human toll, the impact on buisiness, and especially, the estimated costs of the inundation. That's why reading a personal account of the 1996 floods on the river makes for fascinating reading. Local resident Scott Balson reported the river's rise over a number of days as he watched he water creep up the garden towards the house.

Friday, May 3, 1996: 'As I write this the rain pours incessently and hard outside. We had 2" of rain in the last 12 hours and it pours harder now. And all this before the great Wivenhoe dam lets forth a path of destruction which must follow later tonight. Now the dam was built to stop the devastation that the 100 year flood of 1974 caused. Could it cause more damage than if natural flow had been allowed...?'

Saturday May 4: 'I walked down to the rivers edge - now working its way up the garden stairs that used to look down on the river several metres below. The water inched its way higher and higher, noticeably now moving up the slope. The massive gum tree, once high above the water, had now surrendered its base to the rising water which now stood just a few feet under the grassy platform just 12 metres below our home.'

Sunday May 5: 'The water continues its climb up the slope, it has now started to cover our deck 15 metres above the normal level of the river... We have just heard that the Brisbane River is expected to rise at least 8 (YES EIGHT) more metres in the next few days based on current rainfall ... We can now hear the quiet roar of the river at its centre - the noise is indescribable, almost peaceful but obviously powerful and restrained. As the level rises the full fury of the water becomes more apparent. I no longer have to look down from where I sit in the global office, I look across and see the water flooding the bank on the other side of the river.'

Tuesday May 7: 'The sun has once again come out and the skies are now blue, blue as they have ever been.'

A couple of months later Balson reflects on his special relationship with the Brisbane River. It is dawn as he watches the mist spread across the river at the bottom of the garden.

'The mist swirled around my feet as the low tide revealed the protruding rocky ridges of the river floor along which I walked. Nearby, the still waters flowed deep and little eddies drew all that floated above into their grasp. Otherwise all was still. Not even the birds stirred. This was a special time. I squatted transfixed by the beauty of the evolving day as the sun's rays broke the hold of the mists and revealed the true nature of the water's emotions below. Emotions that held the soul of the valley together. ... my river fantasy land was now revealing her life and living as the birds woke and shared in an experience lost to man in the walls that we call home and civilisation.'

Blue Faced and Pugnacious

The bird book says the Blue-faced Honeyeater is pugnacious, especially when it is caught stealing twigs from other birds' nests (Frith, 1976:468).

It was raining lightly as I walked towards the river. It has been raining on and off for a few days now which has brought life-giving moisture to this very dry region in SE Queensland. Out of the corner of my eye I felt a presence in the bush beside me and turned to see a splendid bird, wearing an eye patch of irridescent cobalt blue and a golden-olive feathered cloak. Yet as I read the description of this bird I discovered that not everyone has that opinion. Blue-faced Honeyeaters are also known as the 'Banana Bird' because of their predilection for fruit and as a consequence can damage crops and are regarded as pests. But in the riverine undergrowth this bird looked magnificient.

Sometimes drizzle, sometimes downpour, the rain is delicious. The damp dull atmosphere has pervaded the river valley where the sound of bird song is intense as it pierces the grey morning. Sharper somehow. The very melodic Butcher Bird, the dramatic chatter of Wille Wagtail, the delicious carolling of Magpies, the haunting calls of Currawong and Raven, the river is a sound feast.

Ecophilosopher and eco-musician David Rothenberg has explored the history and practice of birdsong in his book 'Why Birds Sing: A Journey into the Mystery of Bird Song' (2005) and says they sing: 'Because they can and because they must.... Songs are used to attract mates and defend territories, but the form is much more than function. Nature is full of beauty, and of music.' Listen to his delighful musical partnership with these beautiful sounds especially the beautifully lyrical Lyre Bird Suite, where the Lyre Bird's display of myriad forest sounds is spectacular and blends charismatically with the human musicianship.

Rothenberg's musical relationship with birds is described as 'interspecies' but could there also be a 'sonorific' relationship of the interspecies kind between river and bird, rain and river, as well as human and nature? In an essay entitled 'Interspecies Music', Rothenberg reflecting on the process of partnering with nature quotes the long-time animal communications and whale song researcher Jim Nollman:

'Treat the music as an invitation. Visualize the bond of time and place as a sanctuary filled with music. Feel what it means to get on whale time. Don't try to communicate; remain humble to the fact that music — especially "beautiful music" — is a judgment call. That rare bird known as the interspecies musician learns to meet the animal halfway, two species willing to play in the same band, if but for a moment. It frolics with our basic conception of what it means to be both human and animal.'

The interconnection between human and nature is fluid, boundaryless, an intermerging of one in the other and the other in one resplendent in the magical symphony between Lyre Bird and David Rothenberg. Have a listen.

References
Frith HJ, 1976, Reader's Digest Complete Book of Australian Birds, Surry Hills, NSW, Reader's Digest Services Pty Ltd.
Rothenberg D, 2005, Why Birds Sing: A Journey into the Mystery of Bird Song, New York, Basic Books.

Spiders Catch the Sun

The river valley is filled with sparkling jewels and precious metals. The trail is awash with emerald, peridot and jade scattered above the the thick brown mud along the mangrove-hugging creek and interwoven within the steep and rocky embankment.

Over the past few weeks the tall Eucalypts have been shedding their bark. It falls to the ground in thin strands, sometimes hanging down in long strips as if the old bark is flowing from the tree right into the earth. Beneath the old skin is revealed a brand new trunk of lustrous bronze glistening in the sunlight. Also shining are the new leaves sprouting from the gum and wattle saplings and other bushes - sometimes glowing a bright copper, sometimes a luscious deep ruby, sometimes a blue-tinged silver and sometimes a brilliant lime-gold.

Walking along the pathway I duck to avoid the precious gold and silver threads of intricate spider webs woven between the branchlets. Within the web dead insects are wrapped as treasures; they hang from the web's centre as the spider sits and waits ... for more prey perhaps? As the sunlight catches its golden cord I'm reminded of a comment from the biomimicry biologist Janine Benyus (2005) who suggests that spiders have valuable lessons to impart. She points out that:

'A spider makes silk ... that is five times stronger, ounce for ounce, than steel. It's resilient and tough - a true miracle fibre. Even more incredible, a spider uses flies and crickets as raw material and creates the fibre at body temperature (a life-friendly temperature), because the manufacturing plant is the spider's body. Furthermore, the fibre is biodegradable, so the spider can eat the web to make more web.'

The clever spinning spider inspires people like Benyus to create biodegradable, sustainable and useful products. This is done, she says, by entering 'into deep conversation with organisms' which 'absolutely fills you with awe'. The first step for scientists is not to rush into research but first to reflect on the evocative questions she poses: 'How does nature teach? How does nature learn? How does nature heal? How does nature communicate?' In the process of contemplation, Benyus advises a respectful listening to the natural world and an acknowledgement of thanks for the inspiration it offers. This engenders an ethic of care. She says:

'Seeing nature as model, measure, and mentor changes the very way you view and value the natural world. Instead of seeing nature as warehouse, you begin to see her as teacher. Instead of valuing what you can extract from her, you value what you can learn from her. And this changes everything. ... When what we learn improves how we live, we grow grateful, and that leads to the last step in the path: stewardship and caretaking, a practical thanksgiving for what we've learned.'

This practical awareness of the spiders' gifts has been implemented by tribal cultures in the Asia-Pacific region who gather spider fibre to make fish nets and traps and capture small birds with the sticky web fibres. And I was always told that spider webs can be used to stem the flow of blood on wounds.

More recently the strength and elasticity of the Golden Orb Spiders' silky web have led scientists to research the properties of spider silk and ask how spiders actually create their silky home. They are looking to transform the spiders' clever spinning into military use as armour (e.g. bullet proof material) as well as creating their own forms of synthetic biosilk for use in textiles and other products like fishing line through the use of genetic modification (see: Borchardt, Christian Science Monitor, 2004).

For instance, Japanese scientists, reports the Times of India (2007), have genetically modified silkworms to produce soft silky socks with which they 'aim to revitalize both the wearers' feet with possible anti-ageing effects and Japan's waning silk and socks industry'. While in 2002, the New York Times (2002) reported that goats had been genetically adapted with a gene from the Golden Orb Weaver to produce milk laced with spider silk (See Osborne, 2002, an article well worth a read).

Reading about the scientific and military uses of spider thread I think again about the biomimicry perspective of Janine Benyus who advises on the need for gratitude towards nature for its teaching and guidance and wonder if her perspective incorporates the questionable ethics and morality of the spiders' genetically modified science and military journey.

References
Benyus J, 2005, 'Genius of Nature,' Resurgence, 230.
Borchardt JK, 2004, 'Soon, Spider-silk Togs and Mussel Glue?' Christian Science Monitor, Aug 26, 2004.
Osborne L, 2002, 'Got Silk,' New York Times, June 16, 2002