... and birds that may upset the hunters

Press, 18 April 1980, Page 13

... and birds that may upset the hunters

■ ’ »*’( Country Diory

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Derrick Rooney

i An unusual calling card i turned up in the paddock i with our pet lambs the . other morning — a “cas- : ting” dropped by a little ! owl that flies overhead at I night regularly, on its i trading route between the riverbed and the trees in the local domain. •The casting — a compressed pellet of inedible • bits of the smaller creatures on which the owl had dined — was the first physical evidence we have found of this nocturnal visitor, which is often heard, sometimes lands with a thump on our roof, but is never seen.

It may not be the same bird every time. I am not sure how many little owls are living in our neighbourhood, but there are at least three, perhaps more. On a warm summer night they make quite a din, calling to each other in the willow trees. It is an unmistakable noise, like a screech with a dash of boom in it, and it carries a long way. I have a quiet admiration for these clever and evasive birds, though not everyone shares it.

The little owl was introduced about 1906; the initial liberations were made by the Otago Acclimatisation. Society on the advice of the Otago Institute, which had been asked by the Government to suggest a remedy for the problem of small birds raiding orchards in Central Otago. Later liberations'Xwere made elsewhere, and the little owl

has now spread over most of the country, though it is less common on the West Coast than the east. It does not compete with its slightly bigger native cousin, the morepork, because the morepork is a bush bird. The little owl favours open country, forest margins, and urban areas, presumably because it has learned that where man goes, so do rats, mice, and small birds. The little owl is more o"ten heard than seen. Oddly enough, the only live one that I have had a good look at was sitting on a fencepost in broad daylight outside an old barn on the West Coast. It sat quite still, and I watched it for several minutes before rummaging in the glove compartment for my camera.' When I turned back, the' bird had flown. But I took a photograph, anyway; it was a lovely barn. Once we had a “pet” owl that ‘..’as a true creature of habit. Every night, rain or fine, it landed on the roof with a thump about 11 o’clock. But nomatter how quietly we opened the door the bird’s alert senses picked up the noise or movement, and we never got more than a glimpse of it as it flapped away. The little owl is a bit of an underdog among exotic birds, and it has a lot of enemies among naturalists. The late Edgar Stead apparently regarded it as one. of the worst mistakes

in the history of acclimatisation in New Zealand, and many people still share this view. Owls eat insects and rodents, and for this reason many farmers are quite pleased to have them hanging about the outbuildings. But owls also kill ducklings and young pheasants and eat only the brains, leaving the rest of the carcases to rot. They also take young rabbits, lizards, frogs, thrushes, blackbirds, starlings, spar-

rows (both kinds), greenfinch, goldfinch, and redpoll — all birds that feed close to the ground, or on it. The owl prefers not to take its food on the wing. There is some suggestion that they take domestic chickens, too, and the casting that our lambs almost trod on contained chicken feathers as well as tiny bones and bits of fur (Mr and Mrs Mouse, I assume). But it might have scooped up the feathers in

one of tfie local henruns, together with a mouse. Owls are quite useful in an orchard, because a resident owl will keep a tight rein on the number of small fruit-eating birds. In a pasture or vegetable garden they are a bit of a nuisance. Thrushes, blackbirds, and starlings are much more efficient at eating up the harmful insects. Owls would rather eat the- thrushes, blackbirds, and starlings. Another, but much more conspicuous, exotic bird, the spur-winged plover, is going to annoy a lot of duck-shooters in the next few weeks.

This is a noisy black and white Australian bird which found its own way to New Zealand, settled initially in Southland, and in the last 10 years has become common in parts of Canterbury. Plovers are not only noisy birds but aggressive ones, and they always, or nearly always, travel in groups, family groups presumably. Two hens and a cock nested this summer in the grass in the riverbed near our village, and Fritz, my gundog, was roundly buzzed whenever he went too close to them. The plovers are well equipped to repel invaders, because they are armed with sharp, bony wing spurs and once they take a set against another bird they give it a very rough time indeed.

The other day three of them whizzed above our house, in hot pursuit of a black shag that was about a quarter of a mile ahead and going like the clappers. Not too long ago I watched the same trio attacking a black-backed gull which, being a better flier, managed to extricate itself, but left some feathers behind. I have also seen them drive off magpies, which is no mean feat, and a friend saw them attacking a hawk. They were not just buzzing it, he told me, but were striking at it and making feathers fly. Magpies would not do that. A group of magpies will buzz a hawk, and sometimes put it on the ground, but the magpie is wise enough to peel off at the last minute. If it got too close, the hawk would simply roll on its back and rip the magpie open with its talons.

Duck-shooters are fairly safe from attack by spurwinged plovers, but they do not like these birds. The Australians call them the “alarm birds,” because of the noise they make when disturbed — a raw, penetrating “kie-kek-kek-kie” that is guaranteed to warn all the ducks within walking distance. But when the ducks have departed the shooters had better not. have a pop at the plovers. These birds are absolutely protected. Their diet consists of Crustacea and insects (including grass grubs) and they are regarded as wholly beneficial to agriculture.