Soon it was joined by another. They worked as a pair: one fed and the other kept look out. They kept in contact with low calls. After a while they swapped roles. But, the one that had been feeding was a far noisier watchman than its companion. After an hour they both settled down to feed together, but took flight when a brown blur flashed by. I couldn’t see what it was as the only view I had was through my camera lens. The crows circled round before returning to the carcasses. One tore off a piece of meat and marched towards me. It buried the food in the ground and continued purposely towards the hide. I didn’t want it to break my cover so I kept as still as possible. It walked right up to the hide and began to peer in. Knowing how inquisitive corvids are, I was sure this one wouldn’t give up until it knew what was lurking beneath the sticks and leaves.
Suddenly the crow jumped back four feet, making an unexpected frog-like sound. It composed itself and walked towards me again, circling the hide twice. Unsuccessful, it mounted an aerial attack, landing on top of the hide. It was now just two feet from my head and I could hear it pulling at the leaves and branches in between crowing calls. The sound of the corvid was interrupted by an ear piercing, screeching whistle. At last, a whistling kite. I had to keep still now, but as I peered down the lens the crow deposited its droppings down my back! I consoled myself with the old adage that it was a sign of good fortune. Sure enough, my luck was in when the first kite landed. But it was short-lived: it looked directly down my lens and took off in fright. Another kite flew in. I always wait until they are settled before trying to get a photograph. And just as I started to take a few shots, the kites seemed to pour down like rain from the sky. First came the whistling kites; then smaller black kites. I tried counting them. I got to eight, then 12, then maybe 15 or more. They were all squabbling over the carcass and pulling at the wallaby flesh.
It was difficult to frame a shot of the mass of wings, beaks and talons. I almost forgot about the crow sitting above me until it called out loudly and flew directly into the middle of the fracas. As if on cue, its partner rushed into the melee ready to fight for dominance over the two carcasses, pulling at the kites’ tails and wings. It was like a pub brawl. I noticed the crows fled from the bigger whistling kites but stood their ground with the smaller black kites which were equal to them in stature.
The crows were vicious; and they seemed to relish squaring up to the birds of prey. They pushed the kites on the chest with their talons, as if to say ‘are you starting on me?’ then pecked them right on the end of their beaks as if delivering a punch to the nose. The whistling kites had the greatest command, but even they clashed between themselves. The black kites were less aggressive. The crows seemed to enjoy causing chaos and held their beaks open in excitement as they tormented the kites. These corvids had only fed half-heartedly when they had the wallabies to themselves, but now that the kites were here they fed frantically.
I left them to fight it out. As I walked away I counted 26 birds in the sky. I returned later in the day to see a number of kites and crows still circling. Sitting in a tree nearby, I noticed a huge bird. It was so big it dwarfed the kites nearby. I got my binoculars out. Sure enough it was a wedge tailed eagle. So they do live round here after all!
I was in the hide at 5am the following morning. Just after 6am some whistling kites came in followed by black kites. At 7am the atmosphere changed. Fifteen or so kites were feeding and all of a sudden they all looked skyward, then scattered in all directions. I was pretty certain that the eagle I had seen the evening before was back. I waited patiently. I knew it would check the coast was clear first. For nearly 20 minutes no more birds flew in. Then the odd one returned for a few minutes before looking into the sky and quickly taking flight again.
I heard a truck on the gravel road 100 metres away. A man wearing a high-vis jacket got out and began to spray the roadside, then drove off. Shortly afterwards a lorry full of stone arrived and tipped up on the side of the road, followed by another and another. Just as I thought things couldn’t get any worse, diggers, graders, impact rollers that made the ground shake, all arrived. So much for the luck of the bird poo! This was my last day in Australia and there was little chance of the eagle coming back with this racket going on and so, regretfully, after 10 hours in the hide I left. I had the privilege of seeing a wedge-tailed eagle, even if I had no photographs to show for it, and I had some fantastic shots of whistling and black kites.
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