blog_barrett: 2010-03-10T17:37:29Z Copyright (c) 2010, Brent Barrett ExpressionEngine tag:parrots.org,2010:03:09 tag:parrots.org,2010:index.php/59.1916 2010-03-09T20:13:27Z 2010-03-10T17:37:29Z Brent Barrett whereisbrent@yahoo.co.nz Nestor notabilis) New Zealand's Mountain Parrot. It is this creature (and the occasional cycle tour of Australia's Northern Territory and a brief stint with Western Australia's Ground Parrot) that has meant that I have not blogged in over 1.5yrs. But it is this creature that so challenges me that I can't ever seem to get the upper hand. I find it hard to speak with any authority about its natural behaviour despite spending endless days tracking it through the bush and locating and monitoring its nests. ]]> tag:parrots.org,2008:index.php/59.1734 2008-12-23T08:49:00Z 2008-12-23T09:03:29Z Brent Barrett whereisbrent@yahoo.co.nz
The author apologises for the extented pause between entries but just started a new exciting job with mountain parrots and hasen't sat down in 3 months. ]]> tag:parrots.org,2008:index.php/59.1704 2008-09-15T23:15:00Z 2008-09-15T23:16:02Z Brent Barrett whereisbrent@yahoo.co.nz
As such it is expected that at least some parrots have learned to take advantage of this post-fire growth. One such specialist is the Western Ground Parrot (Pezoporus wallicus flaviventrs). A resident of the arid land that occupies a narrow strip on the south coast of Western Australia, particularly Cape Arid and Fitzgerald River National Parks. You can read all about this bird in PsittaScene Volume 20 #3 where it has pride and place on the front cover, You will be hearing more about our friend the Western Ground Parrot in the future because they are a particular favorite of mine. However for now we will discuss what has influenced fire events over Australia's history.

Historically fire were driven by the climate and other environmental factors such as vegetation-age and land topography. Fire was typically initiated by lightning strike which is a common event in October on the south-coast. These fires where patchy and formed a mozaic of burnt area. Old growth bordering recently burnt which in turn bordered recovering vegetation. As a result no fire event could exterminate all vegetation, as there was always large patches of vegetation too young to be re-burnt (<5yrs). The Aboriginal people of Australia operated in much the same way with their 'fire stick' tradition, introducing fire to areas they travelled through and using it to flush out animals for food. Each time a fire was set it would run with the wind until the humidity increased or the wind changed or a 'south-west weather change' brought rain. Consequently long strips of burnt vegetation protected chunks of old growth in an almost natural arrangement. Early europeans disrupted the balance only because their tried-and-true practices of Europe where not matched to the complexity of Australian bush. total exclusion of fire was not a good option in the long term. The accumulation of dead wood (aka fuel load) increased with time and the resulting fires burned too long and too hot thus exterminating even the most resilient plants. When I lived in South-west Australia we could have as many as 8 bush fires at once all started by lightning and in all forms of topography from high stone hills to low sand dunes. Recently management practices have changed dramatically and now West Australia has some of the best fire management operations in Australia. But did this change come too late for our little friend the Western Ground Parrot? Tune in next week when we hear more about the Western Ground Parrot. Until then ponder this page as it is intended, i.e. only the views of the author and intended only to tell a story with as much accuracy as he can muster. ]]> tag:parrots.org,2008:index.php/59.1702 2008-09-09T07:34:01Z 2008-09-09T07:34:55Z Brent Barrett whereisbrent@yahoo.co.nz Strigops habroptilus) a very closely managed population of which every individual is known and carrying a radio-transmitter (tracking device). However despite this very precise monitory situation many unknowns hamper conservation efforts.

The Kakapo is the heaviest parrot in the world ( 2-4 kg) and one of the few non-cavity, ground nesting parrots. Although this is unique enough this long lived parrot is also entirely nocturnal, flightless and employs a Lek breeding system. We know a lot about the wonderful Kakapo, the males carve bowls out of the soft soil below boulders or at the base of dense shrubs, carefully positioned above a slope for greatest acoustic range. At night they inflate an air-sac and emit a number of deep-base notes. A number of males will occupy an 'booming-arena' where the female selects a suitable mate. The female will return every few days to mate prior to the laying of her subsequent eggs (which typically number 2-5 and hatch asynchronously). The male does not take part in the raising of the young, instead the female incubates all day then forages by night in order to feed herself and the growing chicks. Due to time and food constraints each nest typically fledges only two young. These chicks can be either bright green or olive colored and it is possible for both colors to occur in the same brood.

We know these factors of breeding biology from direct observation and close monitoring over nearly 20 years. The breeding season during which I worked produced 24 fledged bird from a source population of only 62 individuals. That represented over 30% increase in population during one breeding year. The problem is that these breeding years are few and far between (typical of an animal with a slow metabolism like Kakapo). The real problem is that researchers don't know exactly what triggers this breeding and have no idea how to increase its frequency. Consequently we rely on maximizing the output of the few breeding events that occur. This year could be one of those monumental breeding seasons, triggered by a large seeding event from the native Rimu tree. We do know that breeding responds favorably to large seed fall and, mysteriously, that the birds predict this seed fall event three months in advance of the fruit falling. Such is the delicacy of the preparations for breeding. So in this example, we know almost all there is to know about the life and times of the Kakapo but are stumped when asked the question what makes them breed and how can be increase the number of breeding events from once every three years. In such a situation managers can only ensure that all young hatched survive and, prior to that, manipulate the pairing so that infertile males are not breeding with females and producing infertile eggs. In 2001 90 eggs where produced of which 40 were infertile (refer to photo of infertile Kakapo eggs in an egg carton).

]]> tag:parrots.org,2008:index.php/59.1699 2008-08-28T20:53:00Z 2008-09-08T21:13:40Z Brent Barrett whereisbrent@yahoo.co.nz You can apply these conservation steps to a number of complex problems, however there will always be some exceptions, although I am yet to meet many. Before we look at the principles lets explore the complexity of the problem. It is in fact the problems that blind us to the solution. You tend to get bogged down in the alternatives and unknowns and stop looking at the needs and rudimentary actions. It wasn't until I had to explain this to children that i saw how truly simple it was.
The Problems. In Tasmania for half the year the most endangered parrot of Australia makes its home and breeds. Then it closes up shop, flies the Bass straight to the south coast of Mainland Australia and settles down to wait out the winter. This wonderful migratory parrot is the Orange-Bellied Parrot (Neophema chrysogaster). The problem of a migratory species is vast, particularly when its migration takes it to the jurisdiction of another country/state where the same conservation laws do not apply, access is difficult and the same manager can only be effective for half the year. This is particularly true for whale populations that may pass Australia in order to calve in Tonga. You can have a situation where your legislation is effective enough at protecting the species but only after the survivors return from a migration event. Sadly the same is true for parrots. Luckily Orange-bellied parrots remain in Australia, however there are numerous examples of macaws and other rare parrots in South America which live along mans borders but refuse to recognize them. Birds have this funny tendency not to read road maps or carry passports. Consequently a reintroduction program requires the transport of a species across borders or conservation of summer habitats in Argentina are ineffective due to degradation of winter habitats in Brazil (for example).
Other anomalies that stump conservation are the ghosts. These are the species that pop up now and then to tease the human race but then slink away into oblivion. I cannot forget the searing heat of the desert of mid-west Australia. the thermometer was hitting 48 DegC in the shade and Death DegC in my body. We sat at water hole after water hole and watch them evapourate before our eyes. The skies and trees where full of Galah (Eolophus roseicapillus), Corella (Cacatua sanguinea), budgerigar (Melopsittacus undulatus), cockatiel (Nymphicus hollandicus) and Bourke's (Neophema bourkii) parrots all with gapping beaks panting like a hound dog in the summer sun. Why were we in this blistering death trap? What possesses a semi-sane man to convince him to give up on normal living conditions? The answer was simple, I was hunting a ghost. Nothing fits that label better than the elusive Night Parrot (Geopsittacus occidentalis). This desert nomad roams through the outback moving with the rains, following the semingly random seeding events of the desert spinifex grass. It has been spotted through the decades by very credible people, but never relocated, never photographed or recorded calling. There are still no leads as to where it lives, how it travels, when it nests. In 1990 a dead bird was found on the side of the road by a member of an expedition that was returning from a desert survey searching for this very beast. They stop to answer the call of nature as they made their depressed return journey and hey presto, there in the gutter was infamy in the form of a little green headless parrot. Luck struck again in 2005 when another headless specimen was found strung up on a fence in the desert. With these unrepeatable events the trail goes cold. I have assisted on two of the four Western Australian surveys and sadly we are no closer to the truth. Perhaps one day we will get lucky till then we chase ghosts.
The author does not intend to be even remotely political in this text, if you feel he is, then they are only his views and presented only to explain a more important (and less political) point. ]]> tag:parrots.org,2008:index.php/59.1688 2008-08-22T13:24:00Z 2008-08-22T17:08:40Z Brent Barrett whereisbrent@yahoo.co.nz Rule Number 2: Bounce Back!

It rapidly occurs to one who finds himself hurtling at 10m/s/s through a 7m free fall that at some point the newsreel that is his life should begin. But it simply didn't, all I thought was "how did I get myself into this mess?" The impact came like a shock, like a wake-up call as sudden as a car crash even though for a brief moment I had been expected it. Sounds and vision came rushing back. I heard a loud huh! and realized it was all the air being forced from my lungs. You see I fell onto my head and neck but as luck would have it my large empty pack had slid over my head and my dreadlocks added to the cushion effect. Perhaps cushion is not the correct word. Suddenly I could hear and see again. Then it hit me... something that I had left trailing behind. Something doctors call the 'left leg'. Thats right after my neck then pelvis hit the rocks at the base of the cliff my left knee came hurtling down and cracked my rib. I essentially kicked myself in the ribs. I heard the deafening CRACK! Then I rolled painfull to my right and through a huge patch of stinging nettle.


Evidence of extreme impact.

Wait! This is becoming a ridiculous story. First a wasp nest, then a free fall, then broken bones and deep impact bruising and then I roll around in stinging nettle. You would be forgiven for assuming I am making this all up, believe me I wish I was. For at that very moment I was experience something akin to the fires of hell-and-brimstone. I lurched out onto the river bed screaming like an extra in a horror film. But sadly my ordeal was not even half over.

It would seem that falling and breaking yourself was the easy part, the hart part is staying alive afterwards and getting home to tell the tale. There I was is an unmapped river too narrow to land a helicopter and too thick to be seen from the air and I was hurting... bad! I had to get somewhere where I could be rescued before I passed out. So somehow painfully I put my pack on my back and wobbled 500m down stream to the open valley floor. Then I felt it was time to collapse. I was going into shock fast and need to get a bit of pro-active first aid going, warm clothes feet elevated and maybe happy thought. I triggered my EPERB, an emergency beacon we carry when on jobs in the back country. My radio was out of commission with a flat battery. I lay down on a huge flat rock and waited. The cavalry would be here soon, any minute now. They'll pick up the signal on satellite and beam the co-ordinates to Wellington and then the rescue helicopter will come and find me and save the day. And so I waited... and after five hours I faced the shocking realization. They weren't coming...


Evacuation time.

I was doing better in some ways and worse in many other ways. The shock had passed so I wasn't about to drop dead, but I could only breath through one lung as the other had closed down due to the broken rib. Some would say that one lung is a disadvantage if you where planning to do what I was thinking. Namely climb the 800m 70-degree trackless valley wall and crawl the 3km knife edge ridge to get to the safety of my tent and co-workers. I would have said that doing it at night might be the biggest handicap. But I had no choice. I stripped my pack to the essential, excluding the heavy and now useless radio, wrote a last will and testimony, put out the signal fire and started up to the bush line. It was tough at first then as the hours passed, well, it got even tougher. However there were two advantages of the night, firstly the cold air made for better breathing and secondly the total absence of wasps, for which I had formed a strong dislike. As I walked I got the stitch which held my broken rib in place and so reduced the pain. Eventually following 3 hrs of hard slog I reached the ridge, just 1km from the hut, and with a complicated system of flashing lights and yelling I raised the alarm with the co-workers, one of which was my partner Franny Cunninghame. I must admit at that moment the ordeal was nearly over, now the outside world knew I where I was and my partner knew I wasn't dead and so I may have shed a little tear, but in a manly way. I was aided the last 500m and lay in the hut for 24hrs to collect enough strength to leave. I then radioed for a helicopter and was soon being X-rays in the hospital. Talk about a tough day a work.


A reason for predator control (Mountain Parrot KEA).


The unsuspecting character in our tale.
The Author advises a Level 3 on this article.
(Level 3 = Don't try this at home)
Fine Print: The character in this tale is a trained professional, all events are real, there has been no embellishment as a result the author (and main character) does not advise attempting to recreate this event... EVER! ]]> tag:parrots.org,2008:index.php/59.1687 2008-08-17T04:34:00Z 2008-08-22T17:09:18Z Brent Barrett whereisbrent@yahoo.co.nz Rule Number 1. Stay in the game!

I was once asked why I don’t take a desk job and quit all this fieldwork. The question was posed by a doctor who was in the process of answering my previous question, namely “why does my knee not work?” How could I explain to him that conservation, like war, is fought and won in the field, regardless of how many clever people there are strategizing the invasion or planning the means of defense if there aren’t any people on the front line you pretty much don’t have a war anyway. Likewise if no body is in the field monitoring endangered species population and intervening when required you might as well sit at home and survey for parrots using Google Earth. Face it there really is no substitute for time in the field. With that fact firmly established we reach the true crux of the problem. How do we stay in the game long enough to make a difference?

You need to be out there, hitting the track everyday with people of various ages to see the kind of damage we field biologist sustain in the “war on extinction”. Broken arms, torn knees, twisted ankles and strained ligaments to name a few. So rather than ask “why do we do it” we are forced to ask “how can we keep doing it?” How are there still people out there like my good friend Don Merton running around the hills at a ripe age of 60 something. When I look back on ten years of conservation work I have to ask myself was there ever a point when it was nearly too much. There have been many close moments including having to jump from a helicopter, side step an angry snake, risk the jaws of a grumpy sea lion or suffer the stings of a venomous spider. However while I’m not the crocodile hunter fieldwork does carry various inherent risks. That was why the events of March 2007 came as no surprise despite the unexpected way they unfolded.

I was working for the Research and Development sector of New Zealand’s Department of Conservation. We were taken by helicopter up to a hut at the 1000m tree line of Parapara Peak in limestone country.


The steeply cut Parapara Ranges.

We were given the task of setting out mammal tracking lines in harsh rugged untracked bush. The valleys were 800m deep and carved into bluffs and bottomless caverns. The vegetation was thick and at times impenetrable and my problems started with a wasp sting. Well 10 wasp stings actually, it appeared I had stood on a nest. My knees where seething with little yellow and black striped bodies. What could I do other than head straight for thick vegetation and push my way through. Theoretically the wasps can’t follow you, theoretically there is suppose to be solid earth on the other side. Yes it started with the wasps by perhaps it was cemented by the 7m cliff. Imagine, me there stretched out into the void with my foot hooked into a plant root and my back stung by the wasps that weren’t suppose to have been following me. It could have ended there but instead I reached for the base of a tree at the top of the cliff, released my foot just in time for the rotten tree to come away in my hand…

The good news was the wasps had given up the chase. The bad news was I was falling, quickly, into the darkness. Scheduled to land on the rocks 7m below me. So far I was sure to make that appointment but when my body flipped in the air and I was travelling head first and backwards I doubted that there was going to be an amicable outcome of the meeting of young Brent and Mr Earth. Suddenly there was darkness, had I closed my eyes? Was I blacking out? All I knew was the feeling of falling, the rushing of air about by body, the desire to have my feet lower than my head and the fact that all was silent and my eyes were filled with blackness. Then I hit! Hard! And everything changed…
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