‘The natural world is the greatest source of excitement, of visual beauty, of intellectual interest. The greatest source of so much in life that makes life worth living’
I pondered these words of David Attenborough today when surrounded by a massive diversity of bird song, immense numbers of honeyeaters and silvereyes and some fantastic, highly sought after birds and the beauty of Sydney’s most iconic woodland environment; the northern Wise’s Trail in Royal National Park. Here, that excitement, visual beauty and intellectual interest come together in a fashion which indeed made me feel that life was ‘worth living’! I am constantly enraptured not just by the plethora of bird and plant species which surround me when in the park, but also the story of the land and the forces which shaped them. It is truly an epic story, which adds so much flavour and context to my every birding outing . . .
Around 230 million years ago the earth was comprised of one huge super continent, Pangea. At that time what we humans have called Australia since 1828 was connected to the northern coastline of present day Antarctica. In the centre of Antarctica there was huge range of mountains. Flowing down from these mountains was a ‘braid’ of rivers running across the vast Antarctic/Gondwanan plains, across southern Australia and emptying onto a mighty delta located where Sydney and the Blue Mountains now stand.
These rivers flowed for many millions of years, carrying that silt which was deposited in this region and under its own weight, creating the pressure to form what we call today the ‘Hawkesbury Sandstone’. Hundreds of metres deep and in some places and intersected with lenses or layers of shales, this sandstone has also been weathering for many millions of years, creating the soils upon which some of the world’s most diverse plant communities can be found.
Whilst all this was taking place, the dinosaurs rose and fell and mammals and birds quietly evolved and took centre stage. As the earth recovered from the violent impact of the ‘Chicxulub Impactor’ which brought down the curtain on the non-avian dinosaurs, the shape of the world’s continents was changing too . . .
33 Million years ago, Australia broke away from Antarctica, the last continent to do so and, in a moment on that day when the low tide no longer exposed the beach between Tasmania and Antarctica, Gondwanaland ceased to exist. Our continent, now a treasure trove of marsupials, birds, reptiles, frogs, fish, invertebrates and plants would make its journey northward . . . at about the pace that your fingernails grow. Here, an entire world of unique birds, animals and plants would slowly and quietly evolve, enduring the freezing droughts of the ice age, interspersed with warmer, wetter periods. Adapting to these challenges, the birds, animals and plants evolved alongside one another, creating a natural wonder of the world on a continental scale.
Some of these natural wonders are preserved in Royal National Park on Sydney’s south and they are beautifully represented on the northern Wise’s Trail, which cuts through the centre of the park and joins the ridge top overlooking the magnificent Hacking River Valley. The trail winds through sandstone, laterite and yellow shale soils across an undulating landscape. Each of these variations favours particular plant communities, permitting visitors to venture through a series of remarkable vegetation ecotones.
Generally, the trail can be considered a dry sclerophyll ridge top woodland with heathy understorey. Here the plant communities are dominated by Sydney Scribbly Gums Eucalyptus haemostoma, Sydney Red Gums Angophora costata and Red Bloodwoods Corymbia gummifera according to soil type. The height, density and composition of the heathy understorey will similarly vary. The trail links with the Karani Heights trail which winds through low dense heath interspersed with copses of stunted Red Bloodwoods, Port Jackson Mallee E. obstans and rare Yellow-top Mallee Ash E. luehmanniana. This trail in turn terminates not far from a stunning wetter forest dominated by Scribbly Gums and Sydney Red Gums with a beautiful understorey of heathy plants, ferns and Gymea Lilies Doryanthes excelsa, all overlooking the slopes of the escarpment over the Hacking River Valley.
I was greeted with a pretty frosty welcome on this cold, clear Autumnal morning, but as I put my kit together before hitting the trail the greeting warmed up as a flock of Yellow-tailed Black-Cockatoos gambolled across the sky above me, their careless, disorganised flight that’s typical of their kind echoed the sense of joie de vivre I was experiencing as I prepared for this morning’s adventure.
It was immediately obvious that I would experience a repeat of my last walk here, just a week ago, where the trail was overrun with Yellow-faced Honeyeaters, New Holland Honeyeaters and Silvereyes. But, around 150 metres along the trail I stopped to admire a flowering banksia and I observed a White-naped Honeyeater in one of the stunted eucalypts around me. I adore these birds. They have an olive green dorsum that somehow produces a shimmering golden sheen in the morning light. Their clean white underbody and black cap with the white crescent wrapping around their nape and the red bare patch above their eye make for a truly riveting bird encounter. I also adore their behaviour and song, which I hear all too seldomly, as they are not a common bird by any means in this part of Sydney.
Just moments after this encounter I spotted a Fuscous Honeyeater just above the White-naped Honeyeater. Now I was punching the air! Though found in large numbers of the iron bark trees in Sydney’s western Cumberland Woodlands, this bird is quite rare in Royal National Park. There may be enclaves of the bird in adjacent Heathcote National Park, but I have yet to find them.
The morning was getting off to an amazing start and my eyes were now glued to the canopy of the woodlands as I sought out any Brown-headed Honeyeaters, of which I had found a few on my visit last week. These are a near relative of the White-naped Honeyeater, both in fact belonging to the Melithreptus clade of honeyeaters. There are seven species in this assemblage of birds, though one might include their very close relative the Blue-faced Honeyeater, making the number eight. Here in Sydney, in addition to the Brown-headed Honeyeater and White-naped Honeyeater, one may also find the Black-chinned Honeyeater, though I’ve only done so in Kuringai National Park on the northern borders of Sydney.
As the glorious calls of hundreds of Noisy Friarbirds began to assert themselves on the soundscape, I was focussing on the treetops along the trail. I adore these birds with their naked heads, black and withered as a mummy’s hand, that ruby-like eye and collar of fluff around the neck, so reminiscent of ‘Uncle Fester’ from the ‘Adams Family’ 60’s sitcom. I didn’t get any Brown-headed Honeyeaters, but I found dozens of Scarlet Honeyeaters . . . adult males and females but also many immature birds and even juveniles. The trembling of wings and yellow gapes of the latter clearly indicating that these birds have only recently completed a significant mass breeding event in the park.
As I continued along the trail the vast numbers of Yellow-faced Honeyeaters and New Holland Honeyeaters began to take on an air of great wonder and delight, for even the most common of birds take on a special significance when observed in such mighty throngs. As I slowly walked the trail, I came upon so many favourites; Golden Whistlers (interestingly no Rufous Whistlers), Black-faced Cuckoo-shrikes, Grey Shrike-thrush and a pair of Red-browed Finches foraging among some casuarina pods with a pair of Beautiful Firetails. Interestingly, Spotted Pardalotes, which were so abundant last week were in very small numbers. This is no doubt due to the continuing influx of honeyeaters who drive such tiny birds from the forest canopy.
The calls of many recently fledged (or perhaps raucous nestlings) Little Wattlebirds asserted themselves, as adult birds darted repeatedly across the trail, no doubt in a frenzy as they sought out food for their young. Above them, the Noisy Friarbirds continued to chortle . . .
I turned off on the Karani Heights service trail where three more White-naped Honeyeaters flew quite low overhead. Here, in the stunted heath I encountered families of Variegated Fairy-wrens, all of whom were quite confiding. Each family had at least one male vying to be an alpha as he entered intermediate plumage in preparation for the breeding season which will be upon us in just a couple of months . . . one must show his wares off early if he hopes to be successful in this game.
Parts of this trail are a hanging swamp, with Port Jackson Mallee and Yellow-top Mallee Ash can be found in scattered copses. Flowering banksias of several species abound. I fancy that this trail would be well populated with Southern Emu-wrens, though one would need to make an early start on the trail to reach this point at an hour when they would be more likely to show.
Eventually the trail comes to an end, but I continued along a narrow, overgrown trail which is clearly no longer used by humans. After a few hundred metres I came to a forest of tall Sydney Red Gums with an understorey of Gymea Lilies, banksia, various peas and many flowering shrubs. I sat upon a large lichen covered sandstone boulder and took in a beautiful forested gorge, which is the source of Karani Brook, which runs down the escarpment in the Hacking River far below. As I sat there on this beautiful morning snacking on an apple in complete solitude I considered myself the most fortunate person in the world. To know all these birds, their calls and just enough of their behaviour and the stunning world in which they live fills me with wonder and an almost child-like sense of joy. No wealth, no billionaire can buy this!
As I took all this in I heard the ‘tseerp . . . tseerp’ call of busily foraging foraging White-naped Honeyeaters. I sprang to my feet and clambered around the boulders of the escarpment to encounter 8 of these birds foraging in one of the large Red Gums. Here, the slightly robust curvature of their bills made perfect sense. Not only are they perfectly formed to assist with the sipping of nectar from eucalyptus flowers, they are an excellent ‘multi tool’ for probing, prising and fossicking among curled up bark and the axils of leaves and gum nut pedicels and peduncles.
After ten minutes of so the honeyeaters departed and I began the 4.5k (~3 mile) stroll back to my car. I continued to be mesmerised by the diversity and abundance of birds and gorgeous flowering banksias. As I packed my gear into my car I pondered my morning’s birding, wondering how it could be that in a world of eight billion people, that I was the only one to enjoy this trail and these birds on this day. Yes indeed, I am the most fortunate of people . . .
Here’s a list of the birds I’ve encountered on my last two walks of the northern Wise’s Trail. I thoroughly recommend you make your way there as soon as possible. Expect at least 8 honeyeater species on your visit:
Yellow-tailed Black Cockatoo
Rainbow Lorikeet
Musk Lorikeet
Crimson Rosella
Laughing Kookaburra
Brush Bronzewing
Welcome Swallow
White-browed Scrubwren
Brown Thornbill
Spotted Pardalote
Variegated Fairy-wren
Scarlet Honeyeater
Fuscous Honeyeater
White-eared Honeyeater
Brown-headed Honeyeater
White-naped Honeyeater
Yellow-faced Honeyeater
New Holland Honeyeater
Eastern Spinebill
Little Wattlebird
Red Wattlebird
Noisy Friarbird
Eastern Whipbird
White-throated Treecreeper
Black-faced Cuckoo-shrike
Pied Currawong
Australian Raven
Olive-backed Oriole
Eastern Yellow Robin
Golden Whistler
Rufous Whistler
Grey Shrike-thrush
Silvereye
Beautiful Firetail
Red-browed Finch
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