Fin and I are standing at the south end of the lake, between fig trees. The wind is northerly. It’s a clear sky above with some stratus to the north that will increase rapidly—grey above by mid morning and rain by the middle of the day. But we’re here now, with the usual ducks and other customers. Then all of a sudden, scattering from the shore of the south east corner and from the norther part of the lake—whole clouds of birds lift off. I look for the cause of all this, and see the long, slow, orange wingspan and fingered feathers on wing edges of what I assume is a swamp harrier. He glides and flaps slowly, yet somewhat awkwardly, like a big jumbo coming into land. He’s not high though, but level with the other birds, flying just past the middle of the like, slightly on the western side. He seems close to a cloud of ducks—mostly teals I suppose—but he doesn’t give chase to any. There are also no seagulls to give chase to him today, and no koolbardie magpies close by. It is wardong the crow that harasses the harrier this time. He seeks refuge in a small clump of reeds usually frequented by some warblers on the eastern edge. But when he takes off again the crows are at him. He flies further north, and awkwardly alights where the ibis roost—a couple move off and give him space. The crows back away, until he takes off again, and then they’re at him once more. And then we lose him and the whole company as they head further north. 

Some days the lake offers a clear view into things. There are levels to this—-depths. But you still have to look through the things of it. Like today: juvenile shelducks, more than one hardhead, a couple of small cormorants, corellas in a tree, wood ducks in the wood, swans and stilts at the jetty, crows lifting leaves with beaks under fig trees at the south end, the sound of djiddy djiddy with its young, wimbin and teals and bardoongooba ducks. Coots shoo swamphens. An adolescent shelduck shoos other ducks. Hardheads dive. And you remember the reed warbler, from before.

Alto stratus clearing, with no wind when I arrive. The lake is calm and quiet today—even the usual lawn mowing and leaf blowing is relatively silent. The first thing I see at the eastern viewing area (and he sees me) is the while ibis—he’s up on the reed bed today; he pauses his work and stares, waiting for my next more; I’ve decided to stay. A young wardong crow is up in the tree requesting to be fed, a djidi djidi wagtail scolds nearby. In the reeds to the north a warbler flits around; in the water besides him nolyang the moorhen is paddling by. Out towards the centre of the lake are a few coots—one with two young nearby suddenly turns on the older of the young, flapping on top of it, so that it is forced to go under—this happens a couple of times before the younger one moves away. Across from the lake’s other side noolarga the black faced cuckooshrike flies over the water, figtree height, like a dart; then there comes another. Slightly further south on the water are some Pacific black ducks and bardoongooba the shoveler; they are mostly busy tipping themselves over ninety degrees to reach the grass and reeds below. At one point a female bardoongooba shoos yet the Pacific black duck away. There are also some wimbin pink eared ducks amongst them. Across the lake to the north west further out is a single hardhead with white tail tip, and white beak tip, diving down. Beyond this area, a single coot defends its area against a collection of others. Closer in there is a grebe, also diving, looking very similar to young coots, which tend not to really dive, or at least not for so long. A couple of janjarak black winged stilts fly back and forth, low over the water. I walk south towards the jetty and find a trio of newborn djiddy djiddy wagtails standing on a branch with mouths open while an adult is off gathering food, returning as I pass. On the shoreline sit yet, wimbin and, further along, ngoonan the grey teal. I round the south east corner and there are a couple of female marangana woodducks on the grass on the other side of the path, while there are many other ducks lined up on the dead tree trunk hanging out over the water. I make it around to the jetty—the level marker reads 1.32 metres—dropping daily now. On the green ground cover to the west of the jetty is a swan and two adolescent cygnets—their feathers are a browny creamy kind of stripy assortment, while the underside of their still-not-fully-developed wingtips are white, and their beaks are a kind of dirty pink with tips tending towards white; the adult lies next to them, its visible feathers fully black. On the other side of the swans is an adult yet with three chicks. On this side of the swans is an adult swamphen and adolescent just now growing a more purple chest; it’s head and beak are still black however; I watch as the adult leads the young one up onto the bushes in search of more food. On the eastern side of the jetty are more yet and other ducks, while behind me is another young crow with mother or father, waiting to be fed.

Somewhere in there the south westerly has started up again, with ripples beginning on the lake’s surface.

Light rain at the lake today. There are the usual birds of the last few days: reed warblers, coots, bardoongooba shovelers, marangana wood ducks, kwirlam the swamphen, nolyang the moorhen, yet, ngoonan, wimbin, hardheads. Plus today there’s also the nankeen night heron, a seagull and now what I believe to be a swamp harrier, all long-wingspanned and orange brown, flying low overhead. I notice only the coots make a noise in the grass on the other side, but then in comes one solitary seagull to chase the harrier away (two other seagulls fly in support) to the northern part of the lake, where the harrier pursues two black winged stilts…and then is gone from my vision.

The duck and other bird numbers at the lake are rising. Water levels must be about 1.36 metres. I don’t know if other water options are drying up. There’s the black duck, the grey teal, the pink ear, the shoveler, the dusky moorhen, coots, black winged stilts, seagulls, egrets. No musk or wood ducks or swans seen at the south end today. Water dropping, birds appearing.

I arrive at the lake today, and soon after start talking to a fellow with binoculars. I ask him if he’s seen anything in particular today. He says some musk ducks just south of where we were. I ask if it was mother and young—he said he thought so—two young. I walk down—there are pink ears and bardoongooba the shoveler, a couple of hardheads, yet the black duck and ngoonan the grey teal, and a little further out the mother with two young—kadar the musk duck. The mother is diving down and one of the adolescents is following wherever she happens to pop up, often receiving whatever she pulls up in her beak. The other young one is spending more time on its tail—pruning, preening, plucking—only slowly coming over after each of its mother’s surfacings, generally missing out on whatever food there might be, and then returning to the tail.

The fig trees are either going or being pruned at the south end of the lake. Their (introduced) wood is too soft and inviting for the (introduced) polyphagouns shothole borer which likes to introduce a fungus that it farms in the holes inside. This is seen as too much of a threat for (introduced) agricultural trees such as avocados on the city’s edges. And seeing as there is no (introduced) chemical strong enough to kill them, the (introduced) land managers of the Department of Primary Industries and Regional Development have decided to remove (introduced) limbs or whole (introduced) trees.

Maybe I have been confusing boodoo the bluebill for my new friend eroodoo the hardhead for some time. Maybe not. I see the differences clearly now: hardhead has white tip on bill end, white undertip to tail, white of eye; other features, though, are somewhat similar. And today I notice that I have another diving duck on my hands.