A flash of stunning blue to my right caught my attention against the mottled green of some small Casuarinas. I was pretty sure of what I had seen but I now had to hope that my presence hadn’t scared this beautiful bird away. The small channel that I was in was not wide and it was very shallow so it was easy enough to smoothly reverse my kayak back past an overhanging Casuarina tree branch in the water to let the wind carry me back along the channel. My heart was beating when I saw the speck of blue perched so still on a branch. With a bit of manoeuvring, I had my sea kayak pointed at the bird while the wind pushed me closer. I cursed the foliage that was blocking a clean shot but I was also excited beyond words to be finally getting some pictures of a gorgeous Azure Kingfisher. That experience took a fantastic day to an even higher level. I had already seen some lovely birds on Durras Lake while also taking in the natural beauty of the Murramarang National Park that rimmed the lake and now I was photographing an Azure Kingfisher. The two hour long early morning drive from Canberra to Durras Lake on the southern coast of New South Wales had been worth it. I hope that you enjoy the photographs below.
Screenshot of the route that I took along the lake
Information sign on the Batemans Marine Park
(Apple iPhone 8 [ISO 20, 3.99mm, f/1.8 and 1/640 SEC])
Durras Lake was a shallow estuarine lake that stretched approximately six twisting kilometres from South Durras on the coast into the dense trees of Murramarang National Park. The bottom of the lake was predominantly sandy mud with some seagrass and seaweed breaking up the expanse of underwater sand. In some areas the lake looked like it barely inundated the land, with bits of ground just rising above the surface of the water. The lake was sometimes open to the sea so its water was brackish creating a unique ecosystem.
That Sunday morning, I left Canberra well before the sunrise to ensure that I would arrive at the lake as early as possible. The drive took about two hours before I pulled into what looked like a freshly constructed parking cul-de-sac at around 8 AM leading to a newish boat ramp at the very small township of South Durras. A solitary fisherman was already on the water in a small boat drifting along with the light breeze that slightly cooled the morning air.
Seeing this quiet location in person was even better than the photo that I had seen on Google Maps that had resolved me to do this trip despite the forecasted overcast, windy day. The nature before me meant that I just wanted to get going as quickly as possible. I had the kayak off the car and into the water with alacrity before I quickly stowed all the gear that I was taking that day into various hatches.
Pushing off from the small bit of sand adjacent to the boat ramp the kayak seemed to know that it was going to be a good day. It glided effortlessly through wind-created ripples on the lake, its blue bow seemingly striving to travel faster so as to explore this new location for paddling.
Within a few minutes of taking my first stroke in the lake I was carefully approaching a small group of Little Pied Cormorants (Microcarbo melanoleucos) that were using a convenient semi-submerged dead branch to dry their outstretched wings. I was fortunate because as I started photographing these lovely little pied-coloured birds the sun broke through some clouds lighting these birds. The birds were preening themselves initially but when I started to get closer their heads came up, looking from side to side. Most birds kept their glistening, black wings outstretched to catch the warming rays of the now shining sun. However, cormorants are skittish birds and most of these birds started to fly away but a handful were still on that branch when I slowly started paddling again.
Theses birds eat a variety of small, water animals and are at home in either salt or fresh water.
Little Pied Cormorants drying their wings
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 500, 400mm, f/8.0 and 1/500 SEC])
Seeing the cormorants so early made me think that the day was going to be a good one, indeed just a few more strokes revealed the bright, white plumage of a stately Great Egret (Ardea modesta) wading carefully through the shallow water. I tried to let the kayak drift towards the bird but this egret was not interested in hanging about, taking to the wing while I was still a reasonable distance away.
Later, on the return trip, when I was near the middle of the lake I had more success in drifting with the wind past an egret. This graceful water bird with feathers of the purest white was on the side of the canal that I was drifting through. I was able to let the kayak drift with the wind very close to the bird before it inevitably made up its mind that it was time to move. The egret jumped into the air while beating its wings before it circled a few metres off the ground to land not far away. Upon landing it commenced looking for food and twice in a short space of time its yellow beak cut dart-like through the air ending the life of a small creature moving through the semi-submerged vegetation.
Great Egret taking to flight
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 100, 400mm, f/9.0 and 1/500 SEC])
Great Egret further into the lake
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 400, 400mm, f/9.0 and 1/500 SEC])
After seeing the first egret I guided my kayak along the lake northwards into the first sanctuary zone. These zones appeared to be about restricting fishing and other activities collecting marine life.
Paddling into this tree-fringed basin I knew that I wanted to head to the far shore to where the Durras Lake Discovery Trail almost touched the water and also to paddle up a strange, almost straight but narrow inlet. I was not sure what had made this small, elongated rectangular inlet but I thought that it could not be natural, it seemed too straight and regular. Later, after doing some reading about the history of the area, I wondered if it was connected with the logging that had occurred much earlier in this region. Regardless as to how it formed I thought that it did make for a great vertical shot.
Paddling into a straight cut inlet in the lake
DJI Mavic Air 2 [ISO 400, 4.5mm, f/2.8 and 1/500 SEC]
While I was in that channel I came across a reasonably sized group of Chestnut Teal. There were tens of birds in the group. While I paddled up the inlet they kept swimming away from me. Eventually, a number of the birds started to fly away. Somewhat counter intuitively, if they were worried about me, they actually flew directly over my head, perhaps knowing that I was unable to leave the confines of the lake surface. This burst of feathered flight and splashing water happened three times as teals decided to depart. A small remnant resolutely kept swimming up the inlet to where fallen trees haphazardly jumbled across the water at which point I decided not to paddle any further. I was not actually trying to follow the birds, I was just seeing where the inlet went to. That said, I had enjoyed seeing these birds because I had not expected them. I especially loved the incandescent green of males’ heads. Even in the subdued lighting of the overcast morning the green shimmered as the light caught it at different angles.
A group of Chestnut Teals
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 1600, 400mm, f/6.3 and 1/400 SEC])
Taking flight
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 1600, 400mm, f/6.3 and 1/400 SEC])
After enjoying my time with the teals I propelled the kayak across the small basin to exit the sanctuary zone in order to turn west so that I could paddle further into the lake. I planned to kayak across to the western side, the whole of which was another sanctuary zone. The lake opened up just beyond the first sanctuary zone that I had just visited, but was still shallow. There was a bit of a headwind as I paddled, which I did not mind because I knew that it would be a tailwind on the way back.
On the western side of the lake looking back towards the east where I started and finished
DJI Mavic Air 2 [ISO 100, 4.5mm, f/2.8 and 1/500 SEC]
On the western side of the lake there was a group of around ten Black Swans (Cygnus atratus). I say a group but they were not in one area but seemed close by each other that they must have formed a single group or colony. It was good to see this species of birds actually acting like wild birds, not like the swans around Canberra that are used to handouts from humans so approach people when they stop around Lake Burley Griffin. While I did not try to get close to these birds at some stage several of them started to take off from the water. They looked so ungainly, their long, black necks arrow straight in front while their wings strained to pull the swan out of the water. In taking off, the birds ran along the water surface before they lifted off completely, their legs momentarily running on air before being folded in behind their bodies. I felt bad that I had made these birds fly, I also regretted not being in a position to photograph them flying low over the lake because it was a lovely sight to see these stately birds airborne.
In photographing these swans I ended up focussing on two of these birds because they almost moved in a synchronised way while they swam along the lake. Sometimes, they seemed to turn at the same time as shown in the photograph below.
![Two synchronised Black Swans on the western side of the lake(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 500, 400mm, f/8.0 and 1/400 SEC])](https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5b474d53b40b9dfc79289e98/1622630710785-GCO8WT5B2NDXNYGUNJNU/Black_Swan_Durras_Lake_9724_20210530.jpg)
Two synchronised Black Swans on the western side of the lake
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 500, 400mm, f/8.0 and 1/400 SEC])
Not long after seeing the swans the noise of the nearby Princes Highway told me that I was at the western side of the lake. I sent my drone up to take the lake shot that you can see before the Black Swans. This was the second time that I used my drone that morning and the second time that a White-bellied Sea-eagle (Haliaeetus leucogaster) showed interest in it.
When I was photographing at the first sanctuary zone, just after taking the drone photographs that I wanted the sea-eagle appeared from the trees and flew up towards the drone at the same time as I was lowering it. I am not sure if the raptor was going after the drone or whether it was just a coincidence but I decided to recover my drone quickly. Then, over the far side of the lake, I could see the eagle circling high but a long distance away so I felt that I was safe to once again send my drone aloft. While my drone was airborne I was splitting my attention between my controller and the circling talons of the eagle that could ruin my drone while also potentially badly injuring the eagle. I was surprised when the eagle’s circles started to move to where my drone was until the eagle was almost above my now rapidly descending drone. The eagle just seemed to hover above where I was quickly tying to get my drone back to the safely of the kayak. Again, I am not sure if this was coincidence but the eagle moved to where the drone was when the raptor was hunting elsewhere on the lake. I theorised that the eagle may have seen the drone as impinging on its territory so the eagle was going to move this intruder on. Possibly, the eagle thought that the whirring drone would make a nice meal or that the drone was hovering ready to strike agains food which the eagle would then steal from the drone. After recovering my drone and paddling back I noticed that the eagle was returning to where it had been before, an action that in my own mind strengthened the decision to recover the drone rather than leave it airborne with a circling sea-eagle.
White-bellied Sea-eagle
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 320, 400mm, f/8.0 and 1/500 SEC])
Paddling back across the lake I noticed a rocky outcrop on the shore, touching the water. This was the only solid rock mass that I saw for most of the morning, although I later almost ran into a submerged one. The area around the lake is the southern reach of the geological Sydney Basin. I know very little about geology but I did read that there was the Wagonga Beds of metamorphic rocks around this area and this bed was composed of highly folded dark shale as well as quartzite that may date back to the Cambrian Age. The rocks in the photograph below may be quartzite but, again, I have very limited knowledge about rocks.
Rocky outcrop at the lake shore in the western basin
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 800, 100mm, f/9.0 and 1/400 SEC])
Paddling along the wider part of the lake I was enjoying the longer views because I was away from the shore where the bird life was. However, when the lake narrowed to where I would have to turn north-east the water became shallow and I found myself steering through some bits of exposed, weed covered land. It was in this drowned passage that I came across the second Great Egret that I mentioned above. It was also where I took the photograph of the Australian Pelican (Pelecanus conspicillatus) below.
The pelican was swimming against the wind on a slightly converging course with me. The bird made effortless progress with a motionless advance across the lake. The pelican kept its distance, while holding its bill low but it did not appear to be trying to catch food.
Australian Pelican
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 250, 400mm, f/9.0 and 1/500 SEC])
The area where I saw the pelican led into another strangely straight canal that seemed out of place cutting through a curve of the lake’s shore. The water was mesmerisingly shallow but when I broke my view away from the subsurface world I noticed a strange grey shape on a low tree branch just above the water. I slowly brought my camera and zoom lens to my eye, already convinced that I was getting excited over what would turn out to be a crook in a branch. To my delight I realised that I was actually looking at a juvenile White-faced Heron (Egretta novaehollandiae) so I started carefully paddling in the bird’s direction.
The lack of white on the ‘face’ and the mixed grey colouration marked the bird out as a juvenile. Because half my body was covered under the deck of the blue kayak I suspected that this bird was not sure what I was. It initially called out while I was still a little distance away but I did not hear a response. I calmly placed the paddle across the cockpit of the kayak, letting the wind carry me in the direction of the bird while I again brought the camera to my eye. The bird occasionally looked around from its perch on the branch but did not attempt to move away. The wind helped carry me and my kayak slowly past this placid bird that stayed rooted to its perch. While photographing it, I admired its wonderful yellow eye, plus the individual strands in its feathers. I was thrilled that I had this encounter and had been able to record it. Indeed, I would have happily returned home with this experience of a common bird but then I saw that flash of blue that I mentioned at the beginning of this blog post.
Juvenile White-faced Heron
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 800, 400mm, f/8.0 and 1/400 SEC])
That whirring blue was a juvenile Azure Kingfisher (Ceyx azureus). As I wrote above, I slowly paddled my kayak backwards, hoping that this gorgeous bird had not fled. Happily, I noticed a bundle of blue perched on a drooping Casuarina branch, slightly inside the low, spread-out canopy, but not much higher than my head in the kayak. Again, I used the wind to slowly push the kayak to where the tree was. Unfortunately, branches dipping into the water and tree routes stopped me from getting too close. I carefully used the paddle to manoeuvre the kayak off the obstacles I was on, while the bird looked on, possibly wondering what I was doing. Eventually, my strange behaviour convinced the bird to fly again. The bird’s departure left me thoroughly disappointed because I was not sure if I had any decent shots.
I exfiltrated myself from the tree then slowly crept my kayak back around the drooping branch to see if I could locate this blue gem of a bird. Luck was still with me, the bird was sitting inside the sprouting branches of this small Casuarina. Unfortunately, my approach disturbed the bird this time, whereupon it flew thought the branches to the other side of the tree yet again.
Once more I reversed my kayak, believing that this time I had gone too far, scaring this bird so that it was going to fly much further away. However, something was helping me, because the bird was still cautiously sitting where I had noticed it last time that I was on this side of the tree. Then, before I could get any closer, it flew to a more exposed branch slightly closer to me, seen in the photograph below. I was probably too excited so I did not have my camera properly lined up. The camera took some shots, then lost focus, before acquiring focus again, milliseconds before the bird flew back to the shelter of the Casuarina. I am the first to admit that the shot below was not sharp but the bird was so beautiful so I felt that I had to post it.
The confused reaction of the bird with my presence may have been because it was a juvenile. The white tip of the bill definitely marks this bird out as a juvenile. The bird may have also been happy where it generally was because the spreading Casuarina would have provided some cover from airborne predators while the narrow channel of water would have slowed down land predators like foxes from getting to its little island home.
As I reflected on that encounter, my smile knew no limits. My heart was beating and I was beside myself with happiness, having seen and been so close to such a beautiful bird. While I could not be sure at the time how my photographs would turn out I felt that I had disturbed that poor bird enough, so I quickly placed my camera back in the deck-top, blueish waterproof bag before I reversed my kayak again. However, this time toward the shore away from the kingfisher so I could slowly paddle away, absolutely thrilled with what I had just seen.
Azure Kingfisher, if only the shot was sharper this would have been my photo of the day
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 1250, 400mm, f/7.1 and 1/400 SEC])
By now I had been sitting in the kayak for about three hours so I needed a leg stretch. A convenient bit of semi-submerged land provided a place to exit the kayak. I also thought it made a good place to photograph the narrower part of the lake to show the drowned landscape feel of that area. I only used my iPhone because I was worried about changing lenses on that bit of semi inundated ground.
I also wanted to take a photograph of the dead trees that dotted the lake’s shore. I am not sure what killed the trees, maybe a period of higher salt levels? I liked how they almost looked like they were on the move, or maybe that was my imagination. Whether it was an over active imagination, or just my bias, I liked the way the photograph turned out, with the dead grey of the trees contrasting against some new green vegetation behind them.
The flooded nature of parts of the lake
(Apple iPhone 8 [ISO 20, 3.99mm, f/1.8 and 1/1250 SEC])
Some of the dead trees on the low-lying land
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 400, 100mm, f/13 and 1/125 SEC])
While I was on the lake I noticed a number of Southern Mud Creepers (Batillaria australis) just lying on the sandy bottom. I pulled up a couple, carefully inspecting them to confirm that the original animal was gone; draining black ooze confirmed the fate of the mollusc. I was also worried about any hermit crabs that could have moved in but there was no sign of claws over the edge of the curve so I felt confident that these shells were discarded. I wanted to photograph them but I did not have my underwater camera so I had to bring them out of the water. Strangely, I had come across a blue bucket that was floating near a shore of the lake but appeared to be rubbish. I thought that would make a convenient platform for the shells. Later I put a light under the bucket to get creative with the lighting effect. I ended up taking the bucker home so that I could dispose of it properly.
When these animals are alive they live on the muddy bottom of the inter tidal or shallow areas feeding on plant matter. Their wanderings across the mud often result in trails so that it is clear where they came from. Research indicates that these animals breed in summer in their second year. Many of them will die in their third year of life with only a few making it to a fourth year.
Southern Mud Creeper, on the top of an abandoned bucket that I pulled out of the lake
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF100mm f/2.8L Macro IS USM [ISO 100, 100mm, f/18 and 1/10 SEC])
Getting creative by putting a light under the bucket to shine upwards
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF100mm f/2.8L Macro IS USM [ISO 100, 100mm, f/22 and 1/6 SEC])
I found myself back at the small beach where I had launched from but it now was alive with people. Some people were fishing from kayaks, others from the shore. Some families were enjoying canoes and kayaks but close to that beach, the beach had transformed in the three hours since I had been there. The car park was now full whereas when I arrived, my car was one of only two. It was good to see so many people down at that little beach because it meant that people valued it meaning that they would want it to remain as it was. I felt that they were missing so much beauty further out on the lake but may be it was better to let humans have that stretch of the lake while the egrets, sea-eagles, kingfishers and the rest of the birds used the rest.
As contented as I was with my kayak-photography I still wanted to check out one more location before I headed back to Canberra. After getting the kayak onto the car and the gear packed away, I changed into some dry clothes to drive a short distance to the coast.
The weather forecast warned about rough weather on the coast that was hazardous for water activities. Indeed. looking down the lake towards the sea when I launched my kayak, I could see a wispy mist that the just out of sight surf was creating on the nearby beach. Now, it was those waves that I wanted to photograph.
The drive to the next location was done in less than two minutes, when I found myself on a low headland, the sides of which were running white from the waves. I located a trail down to a rock platform jutting out to the sea but high enough to be dry from the wild surf. Looking south I could see the waves hitting Wasp Island, while to the north Point Upright and Grasshopper Island were also receiving crashing waves of water.
I paused on that platform longer than I planned, captivated by the roaring surf, pipelining with streaking white mist flowing off the back. The waves looked like monstrous lions rushing against the beach, the snarling waves breaking with mouthes of water rimmed with foaming teeth while their white mains flowed behind them from their dash at the helpless beach. I understood then why people tried to photograph waves, they are indeed fleetingly beautiful, with forms that will never be precisely replicated ever again.
Wasp Island with some waves and a moody sky
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 100, 158mm, f/13 and 1/100 SEC])
Looking north to Point Upright and Grasshopper Island beyond it
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 100, 227mm, f/11 and 1/125 SEC])
Waves looking like white-maned monsters rushing at the shore
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 100, 400mm, f/13 and 1/160 SEC])
Contrasting with the oceanic chaos, a group of New Holland Honeyeaters (Phylidonyris novaehollandiae) were flying through the Banksia trees looking for that remaining pollen, that must have been heavily laced with salt. The overcast sky made it hard to photograph them as they darted through the leaves so I apologise that the photograph below is not the best.
New Holland Honeyeater in a Banksia tree on the headland
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 640, 400mm, f/8.0 and 1/400 SEC])
It was then time to think about lunch before I drove back to Canberra. The drive out was tinged with a bit of sadness because it had been a lovely morning. I was still looking for photographic subjects and just before the road from the lake joined the Princes Highway I noticed an old shed that had seen much better days. I just had to take a photograph before I drove past because it was filled with character.
Dilapidated shed that caught my attention
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 320, 400mm, f/8.0 and 1/250 SEC])
The trip back to Canberra was uneventful, which was probably best given how many wonderful things I had already seen that day. I felt alive and refreshed despite the tiredness in my arms. I was thinking about the birds that I had seen and just the feelings that I had experienced enjoying the paddling solitude on that beautiful lake. I was also racking my brain about what next. There was an addiction building that I wanted to feed, to find yet another location to photograph. While I was not sure where I would head I felt confident that there would be another spot somewhere around. But, if there wasn’t, I would happily return to one of the nicest locations that I had been to, Durras Lake.
Thanks for reading this post and thanks also for looking at my photos. I hope you come back again to read more about some of the wonderful natural things that the Australian Capital Territory and southern New South Wales has on offer. All the best until the next post.