There was not a particular plan to photograph birds. Admittedly, I am on the lookout for a bird, a big beauty that I could not identify last time I strolled around in that area, maybe a pheasant coucal with a mighty call, resonating through the swampy grassland.
Today was a hot and muggy affair. My camera would not go smokin' hot with action today, I had assumed. It was more about sucking up the rich and colourful landscape, watching distant waders and the occasional singing bird. The air smelled of freshly cut grass and pollen, salt and marshland, with that particular hint of foul swamp.
Ready to call it a day, some tiny and faithful friends got my attention. Fairy-wrens, I have come to love them over the past half year. We shared so many amazing moments together. Another story about a Fairy-wren family, mainly the mother and daughter still has to be told one day.
Approaching the flock of grassbirds allowed me to spot several blue and therefore male Superb Fairy-wrens with quite a few females around. They hopped around on perches formed from fallen branches in the deep grass. The sun was standing behind them, not ideal for photography. But sometimes it is not much about the brilliant shot, sometimes it is about witnessing behaviour that only a few of us are privileged to come across.
Nearby, but a bit further away, a pair of Red-backed Fairy-wren caught my attention. If only, I could crawl closer. But even with freshly cut grass, crouching and crawling around in wet snake country is not on top of my favourite pastimes list, especially if I am sore and can hardly move.
In proper Fairy-wren manner all birds often changed position, would not stay still for long. They are definitely in for some Ritalin. So was my camera in the meantime. Frame after frame were shot, sometimes reminding of a machine gun. Just smokin' hot. When I finally managed to release the trigger after having pushed it for too long, all that was missing was that short, almost invisible smoke coming from my SLR, that all knowing, silent and guilty smoke of settled fire. Maybe it was the green grass background, that kept me documenting the birds.
Red-backed Fairy-wren are not as common as their blue version cousins. Maybe they normally are just more difficult to spot. Today, this couple was visibly busy dancing around each other for a while. They calmed down and settled on a dry branch sticking out of the high grass. Sure enough the perch hid some of the action with the fine dry twigs almost impossible to incorporate or keep out of the picture.
The dry twigs served the two lovely birds well though. Soon the two lovers sat next to each other, not for long at a time but over quite a considerable length of time, always coming back to each other, sometimes an arm's length apart, but most of the time right next to each other. Them flying a few metres away kept my adrenalin level high. But sure enough they came back. With my photographic equipment, I knew that I was still too far away to properly document these small birds. But why scare them and ruin the situation.
What was that? The red-backed male started poking the brown female in the chest. Seriously? Sure enough, the same behaviour was repeated several times. My camera went into machine gun mode again. No guilt, just excitement. The pictures confirmed that I was not dreaming. It looked like the male would pick out lice from the female breast plumage. She visibly enjoyed that session, the head and neck feathers raising and the eyes starting to get that dreamy look, the head raised, eye lids slightly closed, an eerie stare into the wide, green landscape while the male beak and head sunk into her soft feathery breast.
Was that part of a mating ritual? Was I to witness more of it? Bliss won't happen for an eternity. With Red-backed Fairy-wrens it seems to come piece after piece. Short intervals of chest massage, picking lice or kiss. Of course, it is always the male that has to initiate. Who would be surprised about that. But after enjoying the male attention, the female started returning the favour. Her sitting a bit higher on the dry branch probably predisposed her to not focus on her male's chest. The male spread the scarlet-red wing feathers and she gained access into it a few times. In between she faced away from him. When she turned back at some stage, she also started picking his head. It looked like a head massage, like a wood-pecker going for grubs under the bark. Just more pleasant and reciprocally beneficial for all involved.
Whatever they were doing, both visibly enjoyed the encounter. They didn't seem to mind most of my voyeurism and me taking pictures. Surely, I enjoyed watching that sort of bird intimacy. Soon, the birds flew away and who knows what they were doing afterwards. I'd like to think that they are a faithful and happy couple, that enjoy each other, their freedom and the beautiful landscape: just smokin' hot grassbirds!
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