Tasman Every Day

Our quest for baby animal photos along Staples Street wasn’t entirely frustrating, as we spotted this pair of Paradise ducks (Tadorna variegata) with three brown and white striped babies. Technically, Paradise shelducks. Paradise shelducks are, obviously, sexually dimorphic, but it’s the female who sports the spectacular white head. Male, female or delicious-looking babies, their colours are amazing, and parries are definitely my favourite not-ducks. Biologists regard shelducks as not ducks, but also not geese, so something in between. To me, looks like big duck rather than a goose, but definitely honks like a goose.

This horse (Equus ferus caballus) seemed determined to get our attention as we walked along Staples Street, zipping around her paddock, showing off her lovely coat and her flowing mane. But she went all shy when we crossed the road to her side and said hello, although she did stand still long enough for us to get a pic.

Why did the duck cross the road? Well this particular duck was following a bunch of other ducks, but by the time we were close enough to take a photo, this one was the only one who hadn’t made it across.

The paddocks on Staples Street host a few different species, including pukeko, grey ducks, mallards, Paradise shelducks, spur-winged plovers, blackbirds, thrushes… Walking along Staples Street on Sunday night, we heard spur-winged plovers (Vanellus miles) giving their ‘I don’t like what’s happening’ calls and saw one take off after a harrier (Circus approximans) that was flying over the paddock, probably doing the same thing we were doing (looking for baby animals). A pied stilt (Himantopus himantopus) joined in on the plover’s harassment campaign.

As State Highway 60 exits Motueka to the north, Staples Street runs off towards the coast, to the Raumanuka Scenic Reserve and the Motueka sandspit, where the birdlife is abundant. Staples Street before the reserve runs alongside a paddock that also abounds with wildlife. Pukeko (Porphyrio melanotus) are often spotted in that paddock, and although a few days ago I saw baby pukeko in that paddock, only the adults were showing their heads when this photo was taken.

Looking at this photo and knowing it’s a variable oystercatcher (Haematopus unicolor), the question that comes to mind is: What exactly is so variable about the variable oystercatcher? Its plumage is completely black, its species name is unicolor (truly!), and what’s going on with those orange chopsticks strapped to its face? As with the fantail, there are different colour morphs, but unlike the fantail, it’s not simply a matter of “black” or “pied” and nothing in between. The colouring is much more, well, variable, ranging from the completely black in this photo through to a half-singlet wearing pied morph. And in between, there are “smudgies”, with varying degrees of white. All have the orange chopsticks and the red eye ringed with orange.

The blue-green colour of the New Zealand kingfisher (Todiramphus sanctus) can show up as iridescent in the sunlight, but on a grey, overcast day like the one on which this photo was taken, its colours are muted. But they still stand out from the brown mud and debris of the estuary. Their genus name, Todiramphus, means “tody-bill”. Which makes no sense, I know, as I have no idea what a tody is (Caribbean birds similar to kingfishers, it turns out). Kingfishers are not musical birds; they call to each other to establish territories using a flat, repetitive ack-ack-ack-ack-ack call.

Most of the common names for Zosterops lateralis are based on its most striking feature: the rings around the eyes of the adults. Silvereye, wax-eye, white-eye. Even its genus name, Zosterops, refers to the eye ring: it means “eye girdle”. Looking beyond the bright eye ring, though, the silvereye has an astonishing array of striking colours, from the intensity of the yellow-green feathers on its head and back to the depth of colour in its blue-grey cape, its pale grey breast and the rusty-peach coloured sides.

We have here my old nemesis, the Southern black-backed gull (Larus dominicanus dominicanus). Black-backed gulls are aggressive and predatory; I once saw two black-backed gulls hanging out near a duck with her ducklings, one gull had a duckling in its beak while the other gull and the mother duck were eyeing each other up. Black-backed gulls will also scavenge wharves, landfills, rubbish bins and picnic areas, and they are the bane of people trying to enjoy their fish and chips at the beach. Juveniles are an unremarkable mottled brown, but they moult into the adult’s dark black back with the brilliant white head and underbelly.