Orthetrum caledonicum … I was surprised to find myself at the centre of this dragonfly’s attention. It repeatedly circled me before landing again on its favoured perch, facing me every time. So I looked back at it, closely … and the behaviour suddenly made sense. That biting hoard of tabanid flies plaguing me? … the perfect dragonfly smorgasbord!

Galanga labeculata (Spotted Wattle Cicada). There are at least 3 species thrumming in the forest this month. This rather small species, along with the even smaller Black Squeaker (Atrapsalta encaustica), calls from the shrub layer, while the loud, pulsating sounds of Green Grocers (Cyclochila australasiae) fill the canopy. All are favoured foods for the local kingfishers and kookaburras.

Atrax sutherlandi. Despite their fearsome reputation, soft-bodied, slow-moving funnelweb spiders like this large female are at risk from predators. She would provide a highly desirable meal for a kookaburra, lyrebird or bush rat. A good reason for staying out of sight, under a fallen log.

Atrax sutherlandi. She’s vulnerable … but not defenceless. The classic funnelweb pose – reared back, fangs exposed and dripping venom – may be enough to deter at least some predators. Failing that, she can resort to a painful bite. But the hunting bird or rat wouldn’t die. The venom is only deadly in primates.

Having accidentally disturbed her (and taken the opportunity for a few photos), we replaced the log and so restored her protective cover. Gently. Carefully.

Accipiter cirrocephalus (Collared Sparrowhawk). These birds breed here each Summer … no doubt taking a heavy toll on the populations of small birds. We have even seen them in pursuit of the Sacred Kingfishers. This is one of the juveniles. The unfortunate prey? Unidentifiable, but definitely a bird.

Accipiter cirrocephalus (Collared Sparrowhawk). The juveniles have now fledged, so there are at least 4 hungry hunters at work … perhaps as many as 6! Collared Sparrowhawks can have 2-4 young, and we see (and hear!) the young ones all day, every day.

Acanthiza pusilla (Brown Thornbill) - juvenile. At least some of the small birds have managed to escape the marauding predators. So far.

Acanthiza pusilla (Brown Thornbill). The parent scolds me as I pass through their territory – a wattle thicket with dense understorey.

Varanus varius (Tree Goanna, Lace Monitor). We were alerted by the frenzied screams of the Sacred Kingfishers. Their nest of several seasons, high in an Angophora, was under attack. While we quietly backed the birds, we did not (and could not) intervene.

The Sacred Kingfishers have successfully raised chicks in this same nest for many years. It seemed safe and inaccessible … a small opening, at the end of an overhanging branch. Yet despite the precarious location and the best efforts of both parents, the goanna was undeterred. It was a large lizard, the nest hole too small. But after about an hour of ripping and tearing at the surrounding bark, the marauder prevailed. We watched on as it swallowed all 3 chicks. The bereft parent birds left the forest within days, no doubt heading north – several weeks ahead of schedule.
[if you really want to see the action, Paul recorded the final moments in a short video - link to Vimeo]

Myrmecia forficata (?) The victim here is the same species as the attacker. Although not dead it was clearly being hauled away by the tenacious aggressor … reluctantly but inexorably.

This month has seen the return of various robber flies, in force. Large, small; colourful, plain. All on the hunt for insect prey.

This is Neoaratus hercules … a massive insect, fast-flying and strong. They can be as large as 4cm in length, and have a reported preference for hunting the introduced honey bee!

Eristalinus punctulatus. We had never seen this species here before this month, and suddenly they’re everywhere! Recent flood events have apparently created ideal conditions for them – the larvae feed on wet, rotting vegetation.
Once you get past a fascination with the eyes, you notice the liberal dusting of pollen grains.

Adversaeschna brevistyla. Those huge, beautiful eyes are central to the life of this aerial predator. Dragonflies detect and process images more than 3x faster than humans, and have superb colour vision. Indeed, dragonflies are reported to have an ‘ultra-multicolour’ view of the world – not the simple red-blue-green trichromatic world we see.

Hemicordulia australiae. I see a resting dragonfly and I just can’t resist.

Hemicordulia australiae … Australian Emeralds. While the male grips the female by the neck throughout, she appears to take the lead in their eventual coupling.

Orthetrum caledonicum … the most common dragonfly of the Summer here in the forest. Our little frog pond is one of their favoured breeding sites. Female or young male? … I’m really not sure.

Papilio aegeus (Orchard Swallowtail). This native species is a common sight around gardens, as the caterpillars feed on plants in the family Rutaceae – which includes lemon trees. The notched wing is the classic sign of a near-miss encounter with a bird’s beak.

Papilio aegus. Paul saw the large female flying about with the male clinging below. And it turns out that this is the same male he’d photographed 2 days before – the notched right forewing is the giveaway.

Papilio aegus. The pair remained coupled, hanging in the same spot, from 6pm until 11am the following day!

Zizina otis (Common Grass-Blue). With wings closed, and nestled in the leaf litter, these little butterflies seem well hidden from visual predators.

Lissopimpla excelsa
This male is resting and preening – and with no Cryptostylis orchids flowering this year, his life is probably more productive than it might have otherwise been.
[to see what distracted these wasps a year ago, revisit Paul’s “Sexual deception” blog of Dec 2020 - link]

Austrogorytes (?). The females stock their underground nests with paralysed leafhoppers. She closes the burrow entrance when she’s off hunting, so has to dig it open each time she returns with a bug.

Sphodrotes. This male is displaying the behaviour typical of the species: perched atop a low plant; antennae waving; turning this way and that; attentive to all comers – females, rivals and threats. Female Sphodrotes stock their underground nests with paralysed shield bugs.
[to read more, see my 2020 blog “More wasp diggings” – link]

Female flower wasps are often grabbed by males the moment they emerge from the soil. But on occasion she will be forced to wait … and she does this atop a low plant, emitting pheromones into the breeze. She needs a male to carry her if she is to access a nectar feed. Once fed, she’ll head back underground in pursuit of a beetle grub to feed her next larva.

Clitemnestra, another sand wasp (Bembicinae), this one a male on alert for females or rival males. Little is known about the biology of these wasps but they probably also hunt leafhoppers. I plan to take a closer look at this species some time soon.

Tisiphone aboena. Every Summer we have just a few, hanging about the Gahnia. I predict a bumper crop next year, as Gahnia has thrived in the post-fire, very wet conditions.