I did not see the White-bellied Sea-eagle until if flew from a branch that was low to the water on a sunken tree. It took off from the opposite side of the creek from where I was, gracefully curving across the water, around the sharp bend that was just in front of me. I tried to follow the eagle with my eyes but I lost it behind some trees on the inside of the bend that I was approaching. I already had my camera out because I had just been photographing a Willie Wagtail. Nervously resting the camera on the black spray skirt stretched across the kayak I carefully paddled on to where I estimated the eagle had flown, intently scanning the trees for the impressive bird. Coming around the bend I saw the tell tale shape of an upright eagle perched on a branch that was high in a tree but overhanging the water. With a sense of excitement I took some initial shots while I let the kayak drift onwards. Once I was past the bird I decided to beach the kayak so the I could exit to try to take more shots. I landed the kayak in a bad place to exit, the water was just a little deeper around the cockpit than I would have liked, so I stumbled and banged things getting out of the kayak, If birds could laugh this eagle probably would have fallen off its branch looking at my clumsiness. I was worried that all my activity had scared away the eagle but the raptor must have thought that no creature as noisy as me was trying to sneak up on it. Thus started one of the highlights of my paddle up Wandandian Creek, a small watercourse that flows into the north-west end of St George’s Basin. I had taken a week off work and this was the first of two kayak-photography trips that I had planned. I am so glad that I undertook this kayaking because I had a great time seeing one new species of bird to me as well as a number of other wonderful birds along a lovely creek. It was a wonderful break in these strange COVID times. I hope that you like the photographs below.
Screenshot of my route on the day
My plan was to launch from Basin View because there was a boat ramp very near the mouth of the Wandandian Creek. To give me the most time for paddling I left Canberra well before sunrise so that I could cover the two and a half hour drive in time to get on the water while it was around 8:30 in the morning. The drive was easy and the sight that I saw upon arrival of the shallow waters and mangroves opposite enthused me to get onto the water quickly. I didn’t use the new concrete boat ramp but an older boat ramp that ended quickly on a very gently sloping and shallow bit of the shore. I could see a number of shellfish on the sand around it and there were a few birds hanging around despite the cold, slightly windy morning. The weather was chillier than I was expecting, so I changed into a warmer top for the paddle. Despite the cooler temperature I did not hesitate to get going, I was too excited about what I may see.
The water really was shallow in the area that I launched from. A school of very small fish leapt out of the water ahead of my slicing kayak gliding through the ripples on the water. Looking down I could easily see the sandy bottom with many holes in it from a myriad of burrowing creatures. Occasionally toadfish, their unmistakable stocky shape clear through the water, would swim away from my blue kayak as it made its away over this submerged world.
For some reason, somebody had placed a green, plastic garden outdoor chair over a white pipe stuck low in the sand. The water came up to the bottom of the seat of the chair but the sitting there a person would still be dry, except for getting wet walking there. The chair faced to the shore but looked like it was mud-covered in most spots. I am not sure why it was there and it was a bemusing sight to see at the start of my trip.
Plastic chair in the water near where I started
(Canon EOS 7D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 400, 100mm, f/8.0 and 1/800 SEC])
While photographing the chair I took that as an opportunity to drift close to a Great Egret (Ardea modesta) that was prowling though the water closer to shore. I had seen this beautiful bird shining in the distance because the sun was catching its pure white plumage almost like a mirror. The bird stalked backwards and forwards, deliberately lifting its legs as it moved, before suddenly striking with its long, yellow beak. It would occasionally open its beak after a strike, shaking its head while it consumed some small creature. The background was not as dark as the photograph shows but in trying to avoid clippling the sunlit white of the bird I had to expose to the left with dark shadows. I decided to leave the darkness as it was during post-processing rather than recover detail in the shadows because I loved the bright white against the dark background, where even water droplets showed.
This is the largest species of egret in Australia, where it is common, especially in coastal areas with shallow waters like this that are the ideal habitat for this bird. I really enjoyed photographing and watching this bird, thinking that it was a good sign for what else I may find during the paddle.
Great Egret silhouetted by shadows while looking for food
(Canon EOS 7D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 250, 312mm, f/8.0 and 1/800 SEC])
After photographing the egret I headed in a more southerly direction to get to the entrance of Wandandian Creek. The entrance had a small island concealing it, but I could paddle around either side of that small tree-covered small bit of land to access the creek. I chose the eastern access path because that was the best lit area from the rising sun. On the trip in there was a group of around 15 Silver Gulls (Chroicocephalus novaehollandiae) strung out along the thin strip of mud still breaking out of the water. They were mainly preening themselves in that sunny location. Some of the birds had silver bands but my camera was too far away to read any markings. I was not surprised to see these common birds in this location because they have been a successful species in living close to humans. When my kayak started drifting closer some birds decided to depart while others continued on as they had, or shuffled along that bit of mud further away from me.
Silver Gulls on an exposed mud flat
(Canon EOS 7D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 160, 312mm, f/8.0 and 1/800 SEC])
Silver Gull taking off
(Canon EOS 7D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 125, 312mm, f/8.0 and 1/800 SEC])
Turning into the actual creek, the water stayed shallow while I paddled down want looked like a bush-lined canal that would eventually join a larger waterway to form the Wandandian Creek. When I was getting closer to the meeting of the two waterways I heard what sounded like wood breaking. I looked around to my left where the noise had come from. A shape was flying through the tree tops, and I realised it was a White-bellied Sea-eagle (Haliaeetus leucogaster). The raptor swung its legs up when it approached a branch and I thought it was going to take some prey, but it grabbed at the branch itself, the sound of claws grating on wood carried to me. However, it flew away with nothing. I heard the noise again once the bird arrived in the trees on the other side of the creek where I saw it once again target a tree branch. Soon afterwards the bird flew out of sight, only to return over my head in a more direct route carrying some bark that was dried and curled. (I took a photograph but it was badly overexposed but I could identify the material as curled bark from a eucalyptus rather than a branch or food.) I guess the bird was making a nest somewhere off to the east of my current location.
I waited for the bird to return over my spot but it found some material while it was still in the trees to my left so it never crossed into open sky above the creek.
I kept paddling and while I saw some other birds along the way, none of the photographs were that great. I put most effort into trying to photograph a Willie Wagtail that was flying along the bank that I was closest to, which was in the shade so harder to get a decent photograph of a fast moving black coloured bird. I was approaching a part of the river where powerlines crossed the water just around a bend, and there were long, straight cleared paths through the woods on either side of the creek to keep vegetation away from those lines.
It was at that location that the flapping of dark wings from a half-submerged tree on the far bank from me grabbed my attention. I realised it was another sea-eagle on the far side of the bend. The bird flapped its wings a few times in a measured way as it flew across the water to an area just around the inside of bend but lost from my sight. Approaching the bend I carefully looked in all the trees, paddling slowly with my camera sitting on spray skirt stretched across the kayak cockpit.
Fortunately, the eagle was not far away. It was perched on a branch of a tall gum tree growing on the creek bank. The branch was jutting over the water but the eagle was in the shade. I was not sure if the eagle would stay still so I started shooting photographs just so that I had some shots of such a magnificent bird. The eagle looked down at me a couple of times but did not seemed concerned.
There was a narrow, sandy spot at the base of the steep bank in the cleared area under the powerlines that looked like I could land there. I guided the kayak to the spot where the nose was able to drive into the sand securely but the cockpit was still over water a bit deeper than knee-depth, meaning my exit from the kayak was not very graceful. I was also trying to hold my camera and paddle while trying to exit. I was unintentionally waving the paddle around and I bumped it against the kayak a few times. I must have looked very clumsy to anybody watching. I nervously looked up, thinking that my noise and movement would have scared the eagle away. It was still there, it looked down at me initially but then went back to looking around its environment. I steadily moved to a higher area where I had a good angle on the raptor from where I could take a few shots.
The eagle was not concerned by my presence. It stayed still on its perch and barely, if ever, looked at me, even when I moved my position a few metres to the side. It looked to both its sides, occasionally turning its head almost fully to the back. This bird was probably a young adult because its chest feathers still had a hint of immature brown in them. The two close-set eyes looking down the powerful, hooked beak, clearly showed this bird as a raptor.
At one stage there was a loud birdcall, which I could not identify, that got the raptor’s attention. It stared intently in the direction of the noise, sun glinting of its eyes, beak up a little in a characteristic pose. Nothing came of the noise and the bird returned to looking around. After a little while the bird fluffed its feathers up. Suddenly, with these feather fluffed out, the slim, streamlined bird transformed into a chubbier bird, with a ragged outline with ill-fitting feathers making it somewhat clown-like. I turned to see what other wildlife was around, taking a few poor photos of some subjects, and when I turned back to the eagle it had gone. I was sad it had taken off but glad that I had seen it.
Later on, returning down the creek I watched one eagle chase another back up the creek. One bird was calling but I could not see which one that was. I am not sure what was going on but I wondered if there were two pairs and one eagle had flow into another pair’s territory, to which it was now being escorted out of.
What an experience I just had. One of Australia’s second largest species of raptor had calmly perched just over 10 metres away from me, remained on its perch while I took a lot of photographs. The lighting had been close to perfect for photographing the bird. In my mind, that interaction alone made this whole trip worthwhile.
White-bellied Sea-eagle considering what I am
(Canon EOS 7D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 320, 278mm, f/8.0 and 1/640 SEC])
White-bellied Sea-eagle looking around its Environment
(Canon EOS 7D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 160, 400mm, f/8.0 and 1/400 SEC])
White-bellied Sea-eagle after fluffing its feathers, not really that intimidating now
(Canon EOS 7D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 160, 400mm, f/8.0 and 1/400 SEC])
My re-entry into my kayak was equally as uncoordinated but I had at least secured my camera in its waterproof deck storage. Pushing off from the bank, still on a high from the seeing the sea-eagle I paddled up the creek once again. I moved across to the far bank because I wanted to have the best light for photographing. The sun was still rising so the side of the river that I had just come from was mainly in shade due to the trees and the bank of the creek.
My strokes were at a moderate pace, enough to keep me moving but not too fast so that I tired quickly. I was happy to see that the Willie Wagtail (Rhipidura leucophrys) had also crossed to the lit side of the creek where I was able to get a better photograph of it. The. bird was flying in quick circles out from branches and roots in the water. It was low down close to the water. Initially I had thought that it was bathing but it never actually went into the water. Occasionally, it would fly low across the water, further out towards the middle of the creek before quickly looping back. While I could not see the very small insects, I assumed that the bird was plucking them out of the air as they buzzed above the creek’s surface.
Wille Wagtail pausing while it plucks insects from near the creek’s waters
(Canon EOS 7D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 500, 400mm, f/8.0 and 1/400 SEC])
There were a number of Little Black Cormorants (Phalacrocorax sulcirostris) along the creek including two that were on a sunken tree that was almost in the middle of the creek opposite a row of houses. These birds were less flighty than the other species of cormorants that I had seen that day, allowing me to drift reasonably close to them. Their green eyes really stood out against their dark plumage. The photograph below highlights their large, webbed feet that make them so well adapted to aquatic life. They also have special membranes on their eyes to protect them when they are underwater.
Little Black Cormorant on a sunken dead tree
(Canon EOS 7D 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 houses where the cormorants were, I knew that I was getting close to my planned turnaround location. I continued on then around a bend and there was the junction with another small creek that was my turnaround location. I decided to paddle up that small creek a little to see what was to be found around its very shallow waters.
Without noticing at first I paddle past a Striated Heron (Butorides striata) that had its neck outstretched upwards, probably hoping to imitate a broken branch on a log. I did a wide circle in the pond-like creek to come back towards the bird so that I could take a photograph. The bird stayed still for a moment but it did not like the attention so it few across the water to some other trees. I had to paddle past those trees so I took a few more shots but the bird was among the branches so it was hard to get a good shot.
Striated Heron
(Canon EOS 7D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 250, 400mm, f/8.0 and 1/500 SEC])
After photographing the heron I turned the kayak downstream. While I saw some birdlife on the trip back down the river, I was either not in a good position to photograph them or the photographs did not turn out well. That situation changed when I exited the creek in my kayak to paddle into St Georges Basin. Just outside the creek mouth there was a small island with an exposed small mud flat pointing back towards the creek. Patrolling that bit of mud were two Australian Pied Oystercatchers (Haematopus longirostris). There orange-red pencil beaks stabbed into the mud and water every now and then. They worked along the mud and the shallow water lapping at the flat. They were not that worried by my presence, just keeping a respectful distance from my kayak while continuing to scour the mud for food. They did not pull anything large up that I could see but but they did seem to occasionally have some things in their beak.
Australian Pied Oystercatcher
(Canon EOS 7D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 100, 400mm, f/8.0 and 1/500 SEC])
While photographing the oystercatchers I also noticed some interesting dead trees. There were the remains of a tree sticking out from the water almost like the superstructure of a sunken ship. Textured grooves ran along the wood showing the age of the object. There were also tideline marks showing the range of water up and down the wood.
Just beyond them a dead mangrove tree contrasted grey against the lush green of its still living neighbours. The tree was not large, with no obvious reason for its demise. Mangrove trees are hardy plants, surviving in the challenging world of salt-water estuarine tidal movements so it would have been interesting to know what killed it.
Dead tree sticking up from the water with tide marks
(Canon EOS 7D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 200, 106mm, f/8.0 and 1/400 SEC])
Dead mangrove tree
(Canon EOS 7D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 200, 106mm, f/8.0 and 1/400 SEC])
I had been in the kayak for over three hours already so I wanted a bit of leg stretch. I could have paddled to the nearby boat ramp where I would finish but I decided to pull up on the small island near the oystercatchers. I figured that would allow me to enjoy the quiet of the basin away from the shore while giving me a chance to see what photographic subjects I could find. While the island was small, less than 10m across, there were three female Golden Orbweavers (Nephila edulis) that had made their homes there. One of them was a decent size, possibly around 10cm long. I thought one web also had a very much smaller male spider in it as well. I wondered if these spiders had blown out here as small juveniles using their silk string-like parachutes on a windy day. If they had missed this island, they would not have had much luck on the waters of St Georges Basin.
Golden Orbweaver on a small island
(Canon EOS 7D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 200, 400mm, f/8.0 and 1/400 SEC])
After a bit of a break on the island for some snacks I was back into my kayak for the final short paddle across to the boat ramp. However, even on this short journey I was distracted by the birdlife. Two Little Pied Cormorants (Microcarbo melanoleucos) were swimming nearby, but at a little distance from me. I tried to move a little closer but they kept swimming away.
Two Little Pied Cormorants in St George’s Basin
(Canon EOS 7D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 200, 400mm, f/8.0 and 1/500 SEC])
The wind picked up a little as I was paddling back so it was a slightly more challenging than at the start of the trip but not an issue. If the wind had become too strong I probably could have walked the kayak back because the water was very shallow.
My return to the boat ramp caused me the usual reluctance tinged with sadness because I had really enjoyed the paddle. Exiting the kayak I took a moment to admire the waters I had just crossed, wishing that I lived nearby so that I could easily access them on a regular basis.
A number of Chestnut Teals (Anas castanea) began to arrive, gathering nearby in apparent expectation of caught fish remains. There were also a pelican and Silver Gulls. I wondered if these ducks were also benefiting from returning fisherman giving them food because during my paddle these birds generally kept well away from me, not moving towards me like they were doing at the boat ramp. These birds normally eat vegetation and small creatures by dabbling on the surface as well as on the bottom in the shallow water where they can reach, so it was possible that they were enjoying the remains of fish that anglers threw to them.
Chestnut Teals, female on the left and male on the right with the green head
(Canon EOS 7D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 100, 400mm, f/9.0 and 1/400 SEC])
The Australian Pelican viewed my unpacking from the top of the modern boat ramp away from the throng of teals. It was the only pelican attracted by my presence. Even after I had unpacked and placed the kayak on the car, and the teals had resigned themselves to preening their plumage rather than feeding the pelican stayed put. It kept looking at me but did not approach. A group of pelicans were not far away on a series of private jetties, some perched on the pylons of the jetties, others using the walkways. Some of the birds did that very pelican thing of having their head lying back across their body between their wings, so that their eyes looked at me across their backs. There is something about these birds that I find beautiful and I never tire of photographing their amazing forms. They are always worth a picture or a few.
Australian Pelican
(Canon EOS 7D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 160, 278mm, f/9.0 and 1/500 SEC])
Australian pelicans resting on private jetties along St George’s Basin
(Canon EOS 7D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 100, 400mm, f/9.0 and 1/400 SEC] two shot panorama)
The pelicans were my last shot. I was already clothed and I still had two and a half hours of diving to get back to Canberra. I had really enjoyed the kayaking with the birds that I had seen so I was in the middle of my usual post paddling buzz when I started driving home. I always keep my camera in the front of the car with me when I drive while I am out photographing just in case I see something that I quickly want to photograph. It does not happen regularly but every now and then a fleeting opportunity presents itself, as it did on the drive back.
I was travelling along Turpentine Road, having just turned left off the Princes Highway when a shape on the grass verge across the other side of the road lodged in my mind. The shape looked like a tail of a Superb Lyrebird (Menura novaehollandiae), but surely not right beside a road. With no other cars around, I turned to the other side of the road and drove slowly back, disbelieving what I had seen but there in front was a male Superb Lyrebird scratching away at the grass beside the road. I was not sure how to approach this situation because I did not want to scare the bird, especially if that meant the bird would run onto the road. Pulling my car off the road slightly I prepared my camera by turning it on and checking the settings to make sure the exposure was about right. I then wound down the passenger side window. I kept a careful eye on the bird as well. It initially looked at what my stopped car was doing but it must have felt that the vehicle was too far away to be an issue because the lyrebird went back to using its large claws to scrape at the vegetation. Cars can make good hides because animals generally don’t see the humans just the car. Once I was sure that the lyrebird was relaxed I checked for oncoming traffic then slowly pulled back out onto the road and drove to where the bird was. I carefully stopped and cut the engine to reduce any vibrations in the car. The sudden stopping of the car beside the bird made it a bit nervous so it moved back from the road down a slight slope and across a bit of water running parallel to the road. That movement worked in my favour because I was having trouble photographing the bird just below the bottom of the open window. The lyrebird stopped to claw at a plant momentarily before walking slowly into some bush. I was able to get some more shots before it disappeared. Again, I checked that still no cars were coming then pulled off the road, before getting out to head to where the lyrebird had vanished into the tussle of plants. From the edge of the open, grassy verge I saw it briefly on a log among the bracken and undergrowth before it jumped down on the far side to head into the thick foliage. I decided not to follow this departing bird because I knew that it would move much faster than I and my bashing though the scrub would only send it further away.
That was such a marvellous way to end my photographic day having seen such a wonderful bird. I admit that the photograph was not great but I was so excited to see this famous Australian bird that has possibly been around for 15 million years in a similar form. They are also famous for their mimicry and their amazing tail displays for courting. That was indeed an encounter to remember.
Superb Lyrebird male
(Canon EOS 7D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 1000, 400mm, f/7.1and 1/320 SEC])
After the lyrebird the drive home was uneventful but I had plenty of time to reflect on the amazing day that I had just experienced. The paddle through some beautiful areas was fantastic, taking me far away from the everyday. I enjoyed the encounter with the White-bellied Sea-eagle and then a split second image in my peripheral vision on the way home gave me the chance to photograph a wild lyrebird. It had indeed been a wonderful day, and I still had one more trip planned for a few days hence.
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 its surrounding area has on offer. All the best until the next post.