There were groups of Australian Pelicans wherever I looked when I was paddling on the Moruya River, on the south coast of New South Wales (NSW) in July 2021. They were not the same birds moving around but distinct, small groups of these stunning birds, with their basic black and white plumage but colourful bill and yellow eye circle. They were big birds so they tended to dominate the space they occupied, making for wonderful photographic subjects. While they are very common, seeing those birds throughout my paddle really helped make a great day even more special. That was not how the day was looking initially because cold, windy, overcast conditions met me at the river and I was thinking about what my alternate plans were, either cancelling or shortening my paddle. I am glad that I persevered with close to my original plan because the weather improved during my paddle, making it a wonderful day. The perfect partner to my trip earlier in that week. I really hope that you like the photographs below.
Screenshot of my actual route
The Moruya River flows into the Tasman Sea at Moruya Heads. The river mouth, were I was, was subject to tides as well as sand bars. The town of Moruya sat about six kilometres from the river mouth. From the town the river flowed east through agricultural land and some remnant native bush and mangroves. The river was a trained body of water in the sense that broken rock break walls and breakwaters lay along parts near the river mouth in an attempt to keep the river open. Previously, the river did have steamships travelling from the river mouth to Moruya but that was always dangerous with at least one vessel coming to a tragic end on a sand bar at the river entrance.
Parts of the river were included in the Batemans Marine Park which meant there were restrictions on fishing and collecting, neither of which were part of my plan for the day. Looking up river from the mouth I could understand the appeal of the location, with distant mountains providing an equally pleasant vista to river and, when I spend around, the beauty of a beating sea was visible.
My start and finish point for the day was at the North Head Boat Ramp, located at the southern end of Moruya Airport. The ramp was a well made concrete structure that was useable at both high and low tides but there won’t many other facilities near by. My plan was to head to the river mouth to sea if I should head out to the sea for a brief paddle. From there I would return to the river to follow the southern bank up-river, to try to turn into the southern area that a stone break wall protected from the wave action. I would exit that area to cross back to the north bank which I intended to parallel on my short hop to Malabar Creek where I expected to find a half submerged wreck and a weir that I intended to paddle through. After negotiating the weir both ways I would cross back directly to the southern side in order to explore the narrow confines of Racecourse Creek with its unique boulders in the water. That would be the end of what I wanted to achieve so I could then fill in whatever time that I had with any photographic opportunities that emerged.
That Friday morning, when I arrived at the river side the wind was blowing cold across the water, visibly pushing the waters along with the current to the east past the boat ramp and out to the ocean. Overhead, the sky was grey and overcast, not really inviting weather for photography. I had traveled two and a half hours to get to this location so I was going to paddle but I was thinking about cutting the trip short to head to another location where photography may be better. Despite that impending decision, I wanted to get on the water to see what was around.
Looking up the Moruya River in the direction of Moruya township
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 320, 400mm, f/8.0 and 1/400 SEC] two shot panorama)
This was still part of the Batemans Marine Park
(Apple iPhone 8 [ISO 20, 3.99mm, f/1.8 and 1/1000 SEC])
Taking off from the boat ramp I headed over the shallow water towards the heads. I could feel the wind pushing me from the back as well as the little wavelets hitting the kayak. Approaching the grey granite of the break water I could see some cormorants and other birds perched there. I tried to take some photographs but with the dark skies I had trouble getting a higher enough shutter speed to counter act the forces of winds and waves rocking my kayak. Indeed, my kayak was being turned sideways, weathercocked by the wind and current, pushing me quickly closer to the rocks. Not wanting to tip over and ruin my camera, especially so early in the paddle, I stowed my DSLR with alacrity so that I could resume paddling. There was also a bit of chop coming through the river mouth so I crossed the mouth carefully before turning back up river. I shelved my plan to paddle out to sea, I was still a novice and not really wanting to capsize into the cold winter waters of the Tasman Sea.
Cormorants and a Silver Gull at the start of the channel out of the river
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 1000, 400mm, f/8.0 and 1/500 SEC])
Paddling along the southern side of the river I was paralleling a break wall that the authorities had probably installed to keep the river in its current channel. This break wall was really a line of rocks jutting a little above the river surface just a short time after high tide. The rocky barrier formed the southern side of the boat channel that headed out to sea and I had one boat speed past me on its way out to the sea.
There was a gap in the rocks further to the west that I paddled through. By getting behind the rock break wall, I was in its lee making photography more of a possibility. I had already noticed two Australian Pied Oystercatchers (Haematopus longirostris) walking along the break wall. Every now and then a little wave would hit a rock sending some droplets of water to hit these birds. A light coating of rain also did not disturb the birds while they went about the important business of finding food. They get their name from their strong, red beak that they can use to pry open oysters to eat the delicious meat inside. They also eat other small invertebrates that they encounter.
Seeing this pair early in my paddle raised my hopes about what the trip may bring.
Australian Pied Oysercatcher on a riverside break wall
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 1000, 400mm, f/8.0 and 1/500 SEC])
Paddling back into the main part of the river I crossed to the northern bank to follow that westward. I took my time, moving slowly past some still inundated mangroves beside the river-paralleling road to check for life. I also took the photo of the charter boat above while I was paddling westward along the northern side of the river.
After a little while I passed the location of a quarry that had once been active in the area. This quarry supplied rock and gravel to a number of important projects including the pylons for the Sydney Harbour Bridge. A little further on from the quarry Malabar Creek joined the Moruya River. Paddling towards this junction I was easily distracted by the first of many Australian Pelicans (Pelecanus conspicillatus), a pair standing on some exposed sandy mud. I had to take a few photographs, not realising that I would be seeing a number of pelicans that day. I liked the shot below when one of the pair was stretching its wings while looking straight at me.
Australian Pelican stretching its wings at the entrance to Malabar Creek
(Canon EOS 6D 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 taking some photographs of those wonderful pelicans I turned right to head northwards up the shallow waters of Malabar Creek. I could see the road with its weir across the creek not too far ahead and, soon, I also spotted the rusting, low-lying remnants of an old sand and gravel barge grounded half-submerged on the western side of the creek. This barge was one of a number used to move sand and gravel from the quarry that I had just passed to either Moruya or for transport to other projects further away. Its rusting features were now convenient perches for birds like Little Pied Cormorants. The birds were drying their wings when I approached but they did not stay around, preferring to fly to nearby trees while I was in the vicinity. The barge was now just a shell of what it would have been with wooden decking and other features. Some of the ironsides had holes rusted through and oysters covered any part of the vessel lapped by water. Growing mangrove trees sprouting from within the vessel itself replaced the cargoes once carried by the barge. Some mangrove seeds must have found their way into the rusted hull where they had found a nice place to put roots down and shoot up to the sky. Nature was slowly reclaiming this barge through the oysters, birds, mangroves and rust. The barge’s previous important role now gone but rather than becoming scrap metal it had become a part of an ecosystem supporting a number of organisms. I suspected that its twisted and confined small spaces below the water line were probably also good hiding spots for young marine creatures.
As you can see in the photographs below by the time that I arrived in Malabar Creek the weather had changed, with the wind dropping and blue sky appearing. It was starting to become a really nice morning.
Little Pied Cormorant using the sunken sand barge to perch on
(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])
Sunken sand barge in Malabar Creek
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF16-35mm f/4L IS USM [ISO 200, 35mm, f/11 and 1/100 SEC])
The next part of my plan was to head through the weir on Malabar Creek. When I was initially planning this kayak trip I had assumed that road across the creek was just a bridge so easy to pass. However, a bit more reading, along with close scrutinising of Streetview on Google Maps showed that this was actually a weir with a single, narrow route to pass through. From Streetview I could not be sure of the height of the weir but I did realise that the water may be moving quickly against me when the tide was either trying to rush in or out through that opening. The problem was that above the weir the creek widened out into a small lake so as the tide receded on that morning, the water was starting to come through with gusto. Well, I had to give it a try. I lined my kayak up on the gap between the pillars, started paddling hard to build my speed up and let things happen as they may. Getting close to the pillars I had to slightly correct course because my kayak was turning, that slowed me a little but I got past the concrete pillars to be under the bridge above. The passage was slower than my paddling would indicate as the surging water moving under me slighting countered my forward movement but eventually I shot through, regaining forward momentum out into the wide, placid waters of Malabar Creek.
Weir on Malabar Creek with outflowing tide
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 100, 100mm, f/8.0 and 1/250 SEC])
Upon exiting the weir, I looked to my left where I saw the white of Australian Pelicans reflecting the morning sun. I obviously disturbed their quiet time because they started walking away from my still distant kayak. I noticed that all the pelicans that I saw that morning, if they were on land, and worried about me, would walk into the water to start swimming. They seemed less worried in the water, not moving quickly away from me and not trying to fly off. I guessed that being at home on the water they felt safer there, even if I was approaching them in my kayak from the water side. Pelicans have large wings so can’t jut leap into the air, they need to get the air running underneath their wings by running across the water. However, once they are aloft they can soar very long distances using air currents, so barely need to flap their wings.
Australian Pelicans up Malabar Creek above the weir
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 100, 400mm, f/8.0 and 1/400 SEC])
Not far away from the pelicans, seven Great Cormorants (Phalacrocorax carbo) were on the muddy shore of the creek. They were not happy with my presence, taking off reasonable quickly by also running across the water. One of them stuck it out longer than the others but eventually it also leapt off the log it had been on, seemingly jumping along the surface of the water while it flapped its black wings to break the bonds of gravity. Once it was flying it stayed close to the water while it curved around to land in some nearby trees. These are Australia’s largest cormorants and easily distiinghsed from the Little Black Cormorant because of the yellow facial spot as well as the lighter colour around it. On the other hand, Little Black Cormorants are black all over with piercing emerald green eyes.
Great Cormorant starting to get airborne
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 400, 400mm, f/8.0 and 1/800 SEC])
After watching the last of the cormorants depart I paddled around a little bit in Malabar Creek but I wanted to use the clear sky to my advantage at my next stop. With that intent I turned back towards the weir. This time I would be paddling with the tide but I was still a bit worried about the current taking me into one of the pillars and capsizing me. Once again, I lined the kayak up straight to go between the two pillars before digging the paddles into the water to drive the kayak forward. It did not take long for the disgorging current to grab my kayak, launching it thought the pillars. The exit was actually a bit of fun in the end and I was bit annoyed at myself for being so worried. Still, it was a new experience and I was still learning how to paddle this kayak in all types of conditions.
From the weir I paddled south down the short length of Malabar Creek, then diagonally across the Moruya River south-west to Racecourse Creek. This was an even smaller creek than Malabar and also reasonably shallow. I had kayaked over to this creek with thee aim to see the boulders that studded the water surface, and were immediately obvious protruding from the calm surface.
There was something incongruous about these boulders sticking up from the still water of this creek because there was no high ground from which they could have fallen. It was like some giant had dropped these boulders here accidentally. I wondered if they were remnants of a substantial rock surface that a larger Moruya River had eroded away over countless eons. There were a number of boulders along the creek, just randomly sticking out of the water. The first two, in the photograph immediately below, were the ones that I initially saw, becoming the location for an intra-species bird dispute. While the bottom photograph was of a smaller boulder at my turnaround location.
Two prominent boulders near the mouth of Racecourse Creek
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 400, 214mm, f/11 and 1/400 SEC])
Smaller boulder further up the creek
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 250, 100mm, f/8.0 and 1/400 SEC])
While photographing the boulders two stunning Black Swans (Cygnus atratus) flew overhead from further up the creek. I am not sure what had made them fly but I was happy to take a photograph. Some people may believe that these birds do not fly because they seem to waddle away from threats into water but they do fly. These two were staying low, following the creek line before they descended onto the waters of Moruya River behind me.
Black Swan
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 400, 360mm, f/8.0 and 1/640 SEC])
Focussing back towards the boulders I noticed, on top of the large left-hand boulder, a White-faced Heron (Egretta novaehollandiae). Initially, this heron was the “king of the castle”, happily standing on the tallest part of the boulder. However, a Little Egret soon challenged that.
White-faced Heron
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 400, 400mm, f/8.0 and 1/640 SEC])
The Little Egret (Egretta garzetta) was at the bottom of the rock but I think my approach worried it so if moved further up the rock. The arrival of the egret made the heron move off the highest point to a lower part of the boulder while the egret now stood on the tallest part of the rock. However, those new positions did not last long because a Masked Lapwing flew at both of the birds forcing them to flee. I thought that I was not a problem but I must have been too close to the rock as well because after it flew quietly past me, it circled around to come rapidly from behind, screeching, close enough that I am sure that I heard feathers rustling in the wind. I kept paddling. Both the heron and egret flew further along the creek to where the mangrove pneumatophores or roots were pushing up from the sticky mud. I was able to take some more photographs of the egret on my way back out of the creek but it didn’t like the attention, flying off to another patch of mangrove a little further along.
Little Egret among the mangroves
(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])
Unfortunately, the Little Egret did not want to stick around
(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])
After the warning swoop, the Masked Lapwing (Vanellus miles) flew past me to also land on the mud where it stayed for a little while before returning to the large boulder. While I could not see a nest, I think there may have been one on the boulder because the lapwing stayed put on that rock when I paddled back past, calling loudly. Lapwings often nest on the ground and that rock would have been a good spot that was safe from most land-based threats. Those birds will breed when the conditions are right and there may have been sufficient food around to allow the birds to provide for young chicks.
Masked Lapwing after it had swooped me
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 100, 400mm, f/8.0 and 1/640 SEC])
The Moruya River and both creeks that I had been in were lined with so many Sydney Rock Oysters (Saccostrea glomerata). This must have been a good habitat for that bivalve with the tidal movement and nutrients flowing along the river. The shells were covering so many things. I thought that I had seen some oyster leases in Malabar Creek but none of them looked like they had oysters, nor did they have any signage on the poles sticking out of the water. The local oysters were a bit of a tourism staple along the south coast locations, with many riverside and bayside establishments offering fresh, just harvested oysters for consumption.
Sydney Rock Oysters on mangrove roots
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 400, 400mm, f/8.0 and 1/400 SEC])
Paddling further along Racecourse Creek, where it started to become narrow and even more shallow I noticed two Australian White Ibis (Threskiornis molucca) in a tree. Their bald, black heads and curved bills unmistakeable. While they were common around cities where people call them ‘bin chickens’ due to their scavenging habits, they were a bird at home obtaining food from shallow water. This pair was having a hard time with an immature White-bellied Sea-eagle, which seemed to favour the same twisted, dead tree.
Australian White Ibis
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 400, 400mm, f/8.0 and 1/400 SEC])
The White-bellied Sea-eagle (Haliaeetus leucogaster) was clearly an immature bird because its belly plumage was a mottled brown rather than the clean white of an adult bird. Still, it was a large, powerful bird with strong claws and a sharp, hooked beak that demanded respect from other birds, especially the ibis. I noticed the eagle when it dropped from a low perch of a creek-side plant to grab a fish out of the water. It took the fish up to the bare branches of the dead tree where the ibis were. In response, I am not sure if the pair of ibis were trying to scare the eagle away or get the fish, or both but they moved at the eagle, making it fly away. But it quickly returned to pay back that favour, dislodging both ibis. The immature eagle then held mastery of the scraggly branches for a little while before flying up along the creek in the direction of the river. With the raptor’s absence the two ibis resumed their occupation of that popular tree.
White-bellied Sea-eagle immature bird with brownish plumage
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 400, 400mm, f/8.0 and 1/400 SEC])
Racecourse Creek did not go much further after the tree where the eagle was. The smaller boulder that I discussed above was as far as I went before turning around because the tide was receding. I slowly paddled back down the river, enjoying being among the mangroves and other trees. There were a number of small birds flying in one mangrove tree but I could not get any good pictures of them. I think that they were fairy-wrens and scrub wrens.
Paddling back past the Masked Lapwing, I kept my kayak as far away from the boulder as I could. There was very little water under the kayak while I was paddling and I could hear the mangrove pneumatophores scraping along the bottom of the hull. The lapwing raised its head and started making a warning cry but did not come near me. That was the only hazard of the day, and one that was easily mitigated.
I enjoyed paddling past the Australian Pelicans again where the creek and river met. They barely noticed me because there was s tussle between two birds over a perching location. The much larger, new comer got its way by forcing the smaller bird away. Calm was quickly restored, not that the other birds really cared, they did not really move. One of the other pelicans stayed with its eyes pointing backwards down its folded wings, like some old time villain holding a disguising cape up to his face, leaving just his eyes peering menacingly over the black hem of the cloth.
Going past some arguing pelicans on the rocks between the Moruya River and Racecourse Creek
(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])
I then turned east again, towards the river mouth but paddling along the southern bank. The disappearing tide left moist mud flats exposed. The mud was once again a terrestrial environment for the next few hours before the tide rose again. I was intrigued by a series of small, stubby Grey Mangroves (Avicennia marina) that appeared like an anonymous bonsai fancier was setting a display along the bank. The small trunk supported a wide crown that did not reach very high.
Small Grey Mangrove
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 500, 255mm, f/8.0 and 1/400 SEC])
A group of about seven Red-capped Plovers (Charadrius ruficapillus) were working those mud flats for food. They would rush then pause, lean down, pause and may be rush again. I also noticed that a number of them stood on one leg for a length of time even while others were feeding. When my kayak approached them they were not particularly scared, they just kept gradually moving away as part of their scouring of the beach. However, often one bird would pause between me and the larger group. I was not sure if the bird was more curious, less afraid of me or perhaps a sentry bird that was keeping watch on me while the others fed. They were captivating birds with their ‘move-pause’ way of looking for food and their plumage colour was a good match for the mud’s brownish hue.
Red-capped Plover on the mudflat
(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])
After spending time with the plovers I kept paddling east but crossed to the northern side of the river. The lowering tide was noticeable with the sandy bottom more apparent while I paddled. The darker channel for boats with its deeper water contrasted with the lighter, shallow, sandy bottom. A number of haphazard sand bars had also appeared, laid bare by the abandoning water. These flat, dry areas were almost like a chicane of sand between the liquid route that I was taking. A number of Crested Terns (Thalasseus bergii) were making use of these sandy islands isolated from the shore. They stood mainly facing into the wind like they were being organised.
Crested Terns on a sand bar exposed at low tide
(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])
Passing around the sand bars I headed back into the channel. Once again, I contemplated paddling along the channel out to sea but I was not sure what the waves were doing beyond the breakwater so I curved the kayak around to catch some of the swell moving through the river mouth. That was probably the fastest that I moved that day, and was a bit of fun to finish the paddle with. I decided that I had done what I had set out to do that day so I pointed my trusty blue kayak back towards the boat ramp on the close-by north shore. The sky had a growing number of clouds, including a large, vertical puff of white reflecting brightly the sun that was now high in the sky. I had to take a photograph of that distinct cloud, as well as the lovely river that seemed to flow from the distant ranges.
The boat ramp’s exposed mud and algae made for challenging stability while I carried things to the car, with a few minor foot slips along the way.
While my paddling was finished for the day, I still wanted to take more photographs by wandering along the breakwater to see what there was. I also had a desire to be closer to the sea, knowing that I was heading back to Canberra without knowing when I would return next time to the coast. After changing my clothes and securing the kayak, I drove my car to where the North Head Campground met the break water. The camping ground seemed to have a number of vehicles in it, although there was also an atmosphere of abandonment. Many of the vehicles and caravans looked to have been there for a while, hoarding more things around them they would seem to be able to carry. I wondered if some residents had arrived with the intent to create a semipermanent home in this nice little part of NSW.
Back to where I started
(Apple iPhone 8 [ISO 20, 3.99mm, f/1.8 and 1/750 SEC])
View up the Moruya River
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 100, 105mm, f/14 and 1/100 SEC] four shot panorama)
There was a convenient sand car parking area right near the breakwater, allowing for easy foot access. I grabbed my camera and stepped onto the sand. Walking towards the sea, the sand trail I was following passed through some typical coastal scrub of banksias and other Australian plants that were hardy enough to grow on the dunes. Even some pig face ground cover was there, with the remnant of one of its pink flowers. The sand soon gave way to a path of cement slabs that ran flat along the jumble of granite rocks a construction team had laid down many decades before. The rollicking waves generally travelled along the northern side of that long finger of rocks, spraying water onto the rocks and sometimes the pavement.
I stopped mid-way along he breakwater and never went much further. I was just enjoying watching the waves roll in while seeing what creatures were around.
Looking seaward along the breakwater
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 160, 100mm, f/16 and 1/125 SEC])
A group of Little Blue Periwinkles (Nodilittorina unifasciata) occupied a depression in a boulder higher above the tide mark than would seem wise for sea creatures. However, the waves that day kept the area moist for these isolated organisms. The clustering shown in the photograph was one way that these tiny shellfish maintain moisture. They were not worried about leaving the water, with trips of 12 metres recorded by this species when they crawl over rocks looking for algae to consume. They were tiny shells so if people didn’t examine them closely they missed the blue-banded beauty of these minuscule animals. I always found their textured colour against the duller rocks to be worthy of a photograph and I am still looking to take more photographs of these shellfish.
Little Blue Periwinkles
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 400, 400mm, f/8.0 and 1/400 SEC])
Many Swift-footed Crabs were busy across the rocks using their claws to pull vegetation from the hard surface to pass into their mouthes. The water from the waves kept these crabs wet helping to make the beautiful their colouration shine in the sun light. Their hook like legs allowed them to move quickly over the rocks regardless direction. They were also fearless in the face of waves rushing onto them. When I appeared many darted towards crevices but moved back on to the rock surfaces while I remained still. Their eyes were probably not developed enough so see more than a shape moving around them, so by staying still they could not detect that I was still there. I kept slowly leaning closer to them to take photographs but I was aware that the salt-water from the waves was starting to splash me, as well as my camera.
As much as I enjoyed my time on the breakwater I did remember that I had a family back in Canberra that I wanted to spend time with.
Swift-footed Crab
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 400, 400mm, f/8.0 and 1/400 SEC])
Walking back along the breakwater, my good intentions to depart were subverted when I was in the low lying coastal scrub. Some New Holland Honeyeaters (Phylidonyris novaehollandiae) were flying around and I love these simply coloured little honeyeaters. I could not see many flowers for them but I guessed that the banksias may have had some pollen, given the yellow pollen dust above the beak of the bird in the photograph below. They would have also been eating insects and other small creatures.
New Holland Honeyeater
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 200, 400mm, f/8.0 and 1/400 SEC])
A couple of Red Wattlebirds (Anthochaera carunculata) were also flying around, regularly making their harsh call. They were in the same plants as the New Holland Honeyeaters and it was hard to tell if they were chasing the smaller birds or just following them to new sources of food.
Red Wattlebird
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 200, 400mm, f/8.0 and 1/400 SEC])
Once again I had enjoyed a wonderful morning kayaking near the coast, looking at the birds and the lovely environment. The south coast of NSW is blessed with so many wonderful waterways and bays that it would take a lifetime of dedicated travel to see all of them, especially as their beauty changes over the seasons. Once more I had seen some lovely birds as well as other creatures. I had also just recharged my inner batteries floating along a river that was going about its business regardless of human endeavours. People may have controlled the route of the river with break walls but there was still plenty of nature around. The many hours of driving at both ends of the day had been worth it to have that precious time floating on the Moruya River.
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 areas has on offer. All the best until the next post.