21 June 2012

Disturbing

There's something about rare and threatened species that makes people panic. Is it the thought that they won't get to see whatever it is, or get a good photo of it, or simply the nasty fact that sometimes, everyone else gets a good view of it but you don't?

Not far from Melbourne, three Orange-bellied Parrots have frequented a well-known location since late April. Every day, a steady stream of vehicles has sailed down the gravel roads with breathless birdwatchers inside, eager for satisfaction.

Judging by the photographs posted on social media, many have had their fill, and more. With views of the birds only obtained by long telephoto lenses propped disturbingly close, beautiful images showing the beautiful birds now exist. Is this a bad thing?

How those photos were obtained, and how much we are disturbing the birds, was the subject of a recent request by the Orange-bellied Parrot Recovery Team. It asked that visitors to the site uphold the principles of ethical birding set out by Birdlife Australia in this document. Key words used were 'disturbance', 'flushing', 'call playback' and 'photography'.

I would add the words, 'bird hide'.


Given that the appeal comes on the back of numerous reports of bad behaviour, this seems rather mild. The birds have been exposed in this spot for decades; the fact that this year people are doing what they've always done and are now being asked not to, demonstrates the serious concerns held.

Trouble is, we all fear the worst. If these parrots go down the gurgler, then best see 'em while we can. It's a 'Last Chance to See' mentality, even though the BBC radio documentary that highlighted nine threatened species and the TV program ten years later found all nine still around. 


But you never know. Disease, predators or bushfire could kill all 36, known, birds. 


Back at the worst-kept secret place in Australian birding, new, temporary 'Road Closed' signs discourage access to a track that borders roost trees. They do nothing to stop walkers, and you could easily remove them to permit vehicle access. Given the serious problem, I can only guess that it's too late to build a new set of permanent gates for this year's season. What a shame that they're needed.


It's difficult and expensive to see the birds in Tasmania but that's the most ethical place to photograph them. There, the birds feed twice a day at a table which has a perching stick fitted above. It looks natural, and the birds sit up nicely on it; many photographs taken in Tasmania show OBPs on that not-quite-natural stick. 


It's impossible to approach one close enough for meaningful pictures without entering its discomfort zone. As for call playback, the less said the better. Unfortunately, now that a free app has been released, call playback will be even more prevalent.


So what's a recovery team to do? Instead of seriously limiting access, there are now signs. Here's how they look:




And here's what they say:
Please do not venture beyond this point
Each autumn critically endangered Orange-bellied Parrots (OBPs)  make the arduous flight from remote SW Tasmanian breeding grounds to the mainland. Currently ___ and surrounding habitat is the most significant winter feeding area for the species. To aid a successful return migration the birds must focus on building up energy reserves.
OBPs will abandon feeding areas if repeatedly disturbed. Please limit your impact on the birds during this crucial feeding period by:
  • Staying out of the saltmarsh
  • Not pursuing the birds if flushed

No one in their right mind could believe this will stop everyone. It's too easy to forgive yourself the odd transgression, especially if no one else is looking. The Recovery Team must be counting on the shame factor to a large degree.


What really guided my behaviour on a recent visit was nothing to do with other people. I could charge into the saltmarsh (and I'm not perfect; I've done this before), I could look for the birds in their favourite roost. If I found them, then what? 


They've been identified, photographed, noted, sexed, had their bands read, observed. Most have even had their blood taken (as chicks). On seeing one, I would add to my own small tally of mainland memories - pictures of stupendous beauty, horribly in the balance - that I'll likely have forgotten by next year.


Or, I could imagine them, small, bright-green, somewhere in a tree or hidden in the saltmarsh. Each time they thought danger was past, along would come another human. Until they left the place completely, unable to feed without bother. 


What I think about is the spring migration back to Tasmania: how difficult it will be, how important. If I did anything to disrupt them and threaten their arduous existence, it would be my turn to panic.


Am I judgemental? Of course I am. Most people think they behave pretty well, whether it's 'justifiable road rage' or looking for one of the world's rarest birds. I will never tire of seeing OBPs but I have come to understand I can do them more good by looking for them elsewhere than observing them where they are.


With any luck, one day, there will be hundreds of these birds. Until then, birders, please think and reconsider.








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