16.3.11 – Birds and rivers

Pelicans in flight

16.3.11 – Birds and rivers (The Coorong, South Australia)

In groups of four or five, grey wings beating slowly, long necks folded tight against the white feathers of their bodies, broad pouched beaks piercing the air, they flew low over our heads in the fresh sea wind.  I have never seen wild pelicans in flight before, and here, at South Australia’s largest breeding colony, they were everywhere.  The little island just off shore was covered in thousands of white heads. Apparently courtship for a pelican is a pretty raucous business.  Each girl picks up a bunch of likely lads, and leads them in a procession through the breeding colony.  As time goes on, the less keen or less fit chaps get fed up and go off to swop stories with their mates, until only one lucky suitor is left.  Unfortunately, as they are big birds and as the colony is pretty densely populated, the gang often ends up harassing other pelicans, stands on chicks or breaks eggs and just generally causes havoc to ordinary pelican city life.  They obviously need CCTV and ASBO’s.

Bill in The Coorong

The Coorong, where the pelicans live, is a 90 mile long shallow stretch of water, bounded from the sea on one side by high white sand dunes, peppered with occasional scrub bushes.  On the other, green and blue-grey scrubby bush separate it from the arid, seemingly endless plains.  It’s a nature reserve for birds and animals of all kinds including tourists.  The water, ruffled by the wind, was greenish yellow in colour, the ground was rough and dry, peppered with low growing little yellow-red flowers, and white sand.  A hot arid land, with few houses – the town of Salk Creek, to which milestones pointed enthusiastically for over 40 miles, turned out to be one cafe/shop and a toilet block. 

As we left the sea behind, the landscape flattened out, stretching uninterrupted to the horizon in either direction, only occasional low grey green bushes and stumpy trees interrupting the sun bleached waving grasses. 

Massive lobster

We had left Mount Gambier early in the morning, stopping for petrol opposite a cafe selling seafood, advertised by a model red lobster the size of an office block.  They certainly do go in for immense. odd things in tiny townships here.  They also go in for ferocious signage.  The latest example was two pairs of feet, shown soles foremost, and underneath ‘Wanna share a slab?  Don’t drink and drive!’, or a smashed windscreen with ‘DEAD EASY! Wear a  seatbelt!’



Our camper beside the Murray River

Coot or Moorhen

 Journey’s end for today was at Tailem Bend.  The bend referred to is a near right angle of the Murray River, here flowing on its glittering way between wide banks to empty into two huge lakes a few miles to the south west.  Our pitch was only a handful of feet from the Murray, and as we ate tea, some kind of Australian moorhens or coots, kept us company.  Striding delicately on long pink legs, they pecked the grass beside us, smart read ‘hats’ on their heads, and a rich, royal blue chest, stuck well out, making them look very satisfied with themselves, as well they might be.