With the "triumph" of having stumbled around Berowra Waters without actually dying still affecting my mood I decided that the next part of my training would involve distance. The race I had signed up to in an evil moment was twenty two kilometres long, comfortably further than I had walked before (except once and it almost killed me). So I cast about for walks of an appropriate length. I found one almost immediately. As I may have mentioned the Cooks River flows or at least oozes just a block away from my home. According to my handy trail app a walking path existed that if I followed it to Strathfield and then returned, kept on going down to Tempe and then returned to my home the total journey would be a neat twenty four kilometres. There would be no desperate climbing or vertiginous elevation changes indeed "absolutely flat" would be a better description so it would be a useful beginning.
I set off once clear Autumn morn fully equipped for what I expected would be a tiring but essentially boring stroll. The river would provide a bit of scenery but apart from that it was manicured parks for most of the distance and I really didn't expect anything of great interest to distract me from putting the kilometres under my belt as smoothly as possible. The river it has to be said put on its best face for me looking appropriately picturesque and you couldn't see the rubbish floating on the surface unless you looked quite hard.
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| Not looking too bad really |
I crossed the river on Wardell Road, headed past the Imam Husain Islamic Centre and made my way back to the river now adorned with parks. Having crossed the river one of the first things I did was cross it right back again using a recently constructed footbridge done in a style I call neo-rustic. The metal was artfully designed to look like rusting iron although I suppose its possible they just never got around to waterproofing the thing. Nevertheless it was sturdy enough and I crossed in safety little knowing I was about to plunge head first into an explosion of avian life. There were signs in the parks touting the presence of all sorts of birdlife but you can find those signs anywhere. I suspect councils put them up as a matter of course possibly hoping the birds will read them and settle down.
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| A neo-rustic or possibly just rusty bridge |
I set forth on my self imposed penance and had not got a hundred metres when the sound of screeching and bits of tree hitting the ground arrested my progress. I looked up at the tree apparently engaged in pelting me with nuts to find it was full of cockatoos who were indiscriminately pelting myself and the ground with nuts, berries and small branches.
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| Cockatoo sitting in what little of the tree it has left intact |
I must admit I was impressed with how rapidly the sign had made good on its promise although to be an absolute stickler for details it had mentioned aquatic birds. Given the physical heft of cockatoos one can't help feeling they would sink like a stone if they ever entered the water. Nevertheless I was delighted with my clutch of cockatoo photos and headed onwards with a spring in my step determined to view my neighbourhood river in a new light.
Getting a little cocky I took what turned out to be an outrageously optimistic photo of a bird swimming in the very middle of the river. It did not turn out well. Although if you want a photo of a river you're hardly likely to find better.
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| The tiny grey blur in the middle of the photo is a bird, I think |
After that minor debacle I dialled my ambitions back a little and settled for photographing a couple of swimming something or others and some convenient ibis. Ibis don't count for bird photo purposes as usually the only problem with ibis is getting them to move out of the way so that you can photograph the other birds behind them. I suppose they were at least semi-aquatic birds living along a river but let's face it ibis could life on and probably off a toxic waste dump. Which helps to explain what they're doing on the Cooks River.
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| A couple of unidentified swimming something or others |
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| OK, quite handsome ibis really |
But my bird journey had only begun. I turned a corner (well the river turned a corner and I followed suit) and found myself staring at a bunch of pelicans and cormorants. I was absolutely stunned. I was also a little surprised at the size of the pelicans. Normally I see them swimming on the water. Here they were sitting sunning themselves on what looked like a pollution barrier and they are absolutely massive. I took a ridiculous number of photos most of which were not entirely successful.
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| Pelicans and cormorants. I've never seen either on the river before |
I was tempted to call it a day at this point (for context I had been walking for about fifteen minutes) but exercise called and just for once I decided not to let it go through to voicemail. I tore myself away from the pelicans (but nipped onto a handy bridge for more photos) and almost bumped into a white faced heron wandering through someones back garden. At least I think that's what it was, my bird identification is hampered by my almost complete lack of knowledge and my usual bird expert has selfishly taken herself off to the United States.
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| A white faced heron, maybe |
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| That face looks sort of whitish doesn't it? |
Then it was back to take some rear shots of the pelicans which looked just as impressive from behind.
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| Pelicans from the rear |
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| Pelicans again but with a cormorant demanding its share of the attention |
Giddy with my avian triumphs I breathed silent apologies to the sign for my earlier skepticism and carried on. A modest and ordinary duck was swimming in the river a little further along and in a spirit of completeness I took a picture of it as well.
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| A semi submerged duck |
Frankly I could end this blog entry here. You know what I did, I walked and took photos of birds. What follows is essentially repetition but with more bird photos.
Despite my delight at the profusion of bird life I was uneasily aware that I wasn't actually getting very far on what was supposed to be quite a lengthy walk. Pocketing my camera I made promises of amends and hurried on, for about five minutes then I paused to take a photo of some masked lapwings which were just wandering about waiting for someone like me to come along.
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| Masked lapwings, it took ten minutes frantically googling "wading birds" to find the name |
I decided to enjoy the birds while I could. I knew that not too much further up its course the Cooks River loses all pretence of being a natural watercourse and is essentially a concrete clad storm water drain. I thought, inaccurately as it turned out, that this might reduce the bird numbers somewhat. I was heading towards Canterbury which a glance at the map will tell you is about five minutes drive from my home. It does take longer to walk but even walking takes less time if you're not stopping to take pictures of birds every thirty seconds.
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| Speaking of birds... |
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| Magpies or currawongs or something else |
Having spent a lot of time staring out at the river I focussed my attention on the shoreline. Here and there mangroves made a desperate attempt to pretend that there was still something in the way of a natural environment. I admired their commitment although I suspect it's a losing effort. Of course birds swam around the mangrove roots (and rubbish) and of course I photographed them. I had almost forgotten what I was supposed to be doing by this point.
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| My best guess is dusky moorhens plus a bunch of rubbish |
My bird orgy came to a temporary end at Canterbury. The recent flooding had washed away part of the path and I had to take to suburban streets until I could circle back to a more intact walking path. Along the way I passed by a circus trapeze and aerial stunt training school. Unfortunately it appeared to be closed. After ten minutes choking on exhaust fumes (or possibly cigarettes) I managed to make my way back to the river.
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| OK its a pigeon but quite a handsome one |
As predicted concrete became the prevalent riverbank decoration but for some reason a bunch of comorants (or possibly darters but most likely cormorants) had taken up residence on what was either a sandbar or a pile of rubbish. Unfortunately they were on the other side of the river and photo attempts weren't particularly successful.
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| The best of a bad bunch of photos |
Incidentally all this walking (the suburban excursion excepted) was along a shared walking/bike path which travels much of the length of the river. As such I spent a fair bit of time stepping out of the way of people on bicycles. So it was rather like walking on a footpath except you couldn't decently curse the bike riders because they were entitled to be there.
Despite the avian interludes I was closing in on the first of my goals which was the Strathfield end (South Strathfield really) of my walk. Once there I would retrace my steps until I reached my starting point and then head downriver towards Tempe. At my current rate I was wondering if I would run out of battery on my camera before I ran out of birds. Strangely I didn't have any doubts that I would complete the walk.
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| I've no idea what this bird is but it looks well fed |
As the river petered out the parks I was walking through stepped up to supplement the bird quota. I saw crested pigeons and galahs. Sadly the galahs were hidden away in a distant tree and the photos were quite disappointing. All I got of the crested pigeons was rear shots as they started walking away from me as soon as they saw the camera.
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| Crested pigeons avoiding the camera |
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| The least unsatisfactory of some disappointing galah shots |
On I walked beside what was now a glorified drain (actually not that glorified really) I was closing on Strathfield where I would pause for lunch before retracing my steps. At least with the bird frenzy over I should be able to pick up the pace.
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| A bit of a come down really despite the well manicured parks flanking it |
Just before I stopped for lunch I left off the bird pestering to photo the Clare McIntyre memorial fungus which conveniently grew on a log just off the path. I hadn't even given fungi a thought what with all the birds. I didn't miss the complete absence of lizards either.
Filled with a sense of achievement (undeserved as I hadn't yet covered half the ground I intended to) I ate a scanty lunch. I always eat scantily when I exercise otherwise I run the risk of seeing it all again shortly afterwards. With that out of the way I headed back the way I came confident in my ability to make up for any lost time now that the birds had been dealt with. Then the crows appeared. They were either crows or angels of death; huge, jet black things which swooped and croaked and somehow never managed to stand still long enough for a decent photo. I was reminded I was on a bike path when I stopped to photograph one of them and a bicyclist almost ran up my arse. Entirely my fault and I leapt out of the way while the crow watched sardonically and then flew away once I got myself together and raised my camera again.
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| Not a great shot but I almost wore a bicycle as a result |
Shortly afterwards however one of the crows took pity on me and posed on a fence for a series of photos that proves I'm no better at taking photos even when I'm not about to be violated by a bicycle.
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| No bicycle but the photos aren't much better |
With the crows behind me I strode on, my camera securely in my pocket and my mind fully on accomplishing the goal I had set at the beginning of the day. Congratulating myself on my self discipline I turned a corner and came literally face to face with an egret. I fumbled for my camera but the egret fled for the high grass and by the time I was ready I could see no trace of it. It is a measure of human nature that with a treasure of bird photos on my camera and in my memory I spent the next ten kilometres or so bitterly disappointed that I had missed my egret opportunity.
To give myself a slightly different experience I cross the river at an available bridge (there were heaps of them) and walked down the other side of the river. This enabled me to encounter the wetlands of Cup and Saucer Creek which featured in a previous blog entry as the creek (or drain) entered the river. I peered over the reeds and saw a sheen of water, the aforementioned wetlands. By standing on a bench I was able to photograph a handsome pacific black duck sitting like lord muck on a chunk of stone inexplicably standing in the middle of the water.
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| A pacific black duck |
Leaving the wetlands behind me I hurried on. I maintained strict camera discipline until I arrived back at the pelican location. I was disappointed to see that they were gone. Then I realised that they had just moved about a hundred metres downstream and were photogenically sunning themselves on a bit of exposed land that had been walled off to permit them to do exactly that without interruption. I got as close as I could and took yet more pelican photos.
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| More pelican shots |
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| Having taken about a million pelican shots it seemed churlish not to take at least one of these guys |
Back at my starting point I headed, not for home, but further down the river towards Tempe. I was feeling good now, I had covered a significant amount of ground and had masses of bird photos into the bargain (although secretly missing the egret still niggled). I was heading over familiar ground as I had walked this path a couple of years ago. There were playing fields on my right (with people playing on them) and grassy park down to the river on my left. A magpie lark strutted around until I broke down and took a photo of it.
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| Just larking about (sorry) |
Bird photo opportunities just kept presenting themselves. There is this to be said for clearing the native vegetation and replacing it with parkland, the native fauna has fewer places to hide. Whether they actually want to hide is a different question. The purple moorhens in the next photo were so disinclined to hide that I thought I was going to have to kick them out of my way if I wanted to keep on walking.
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| Purple moorhens ignoring me completely |
Shadows were starting to lengthen now. Of course since daylight savings ended shadows start lengthening at about 2pm nevertheless time was awasting so I headed on pausing only to take a series of photos of what I think was a little pied cormorant. Unfortunately it was hidden behind a tree so enjoy these photos of branches with bits of cormorant sticking out the ends.
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| The bird's in there somewhere |
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| Branches, now with added cormorant |
Reminding myself, yet again, that I had a task to accomplish I continued on. The end was truly in sight now or at least it would be if it wasn't for the river's habit of bending. I passed by a place I had seen previously where a sign had proudly announced that they had returned about twelve feet of the river's bank to its natural pre-canalised state thus providing habit for crabs and turtles and things. This turned out to be a double edged sword as another sign warned of the presence of an invading species of turtle that was threatening both native turtles and crabs alike. I saw no turtles, invaders or otherwise but I did see a little crab with a huge claw. I tried to take a photo of it but I don't think my zoom lens was up to the job.
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| teensy tiny crab |
And finally I had arrived at Tempe and just before I turned for home there in front of me was a snow white egret. I took loads of photos sadly the position of the egret and the sun respectively stopped them from being as good as I would have liked. I crept closer and took some more not terribly great photos but at least they were better than the first lot.
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| Not a great egret shot but the best of a bad bunch |
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| This guy was staring jealously while I slobbered over the egret so I took a photo to shut him up |
I now had twenty two kilometres under my belt and was feeling distinctly weary. Pocketing my camera I turned my head for home. I had taken enough bird photos I told myself, now it was time to put the last couple of kilometres behind me and sink wearily into my couch. Then I passed by somebodies house with the most spectacular looking chickens I've ever seen.
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| Seriously for a chicken to look better than this it would have to come with gravy and potatos |
And with the chickens I was done. I stumbled the last kilometre or so home, dragged myself up the stairs and collapsed as previously predicted onto my couch. Still I had done twenty two kilometres and more so I felt quite pleased with myself.
Disclaimer: Any bird identifications made in this blog are at best educated guesses and more likely uneducated guesses. Please don't bother to correct any mistakes unless you are Cindy Parker.
