This morning I headed to Point Peron again, hoping to see the juvenile Black Shouldered Kite I photographed last week. As I exited the Freeway heading toward Rockingham, I caught sight of some large raptors in a dead tree. Stopped the car, grabbed the camera and leapt out. Up a bank, through two fences, a sand pit and some thick scrub.............
It was a Whistling Kite, actually there were four of them, but I only got to photograph one. It sat above me in the tree looking slightly disapproving and then flew off. I captured it in flight with the beautiful morning light highlighting its rich brown markings. Made a mental note of the tree, hatched a plan to return and headed back to the car.
Arrived at Point Peron and the young Black Shouldered Kite was sitting on top of the wind vein. He would take off, fly over the little valley below and then return to land on the wind vein. He did this several times and followed the same pattern of flight each time allowing me to predict his movements.
The sky was overcast and the light bright but soft. This highlighted his silky white feathers and portrayed a certain vulnerability that contrasted strongly with his piercing golden eyes and strong talons.
I left the Black Shouldered Kite and walked along the beach, watching the seagulls. The old Greek fisherman were there again and I stopped to talk to them. They had caught a few fish and were now trying to catch octopus in the rocks. Seagulls flapped around and I noticed how the men's faces were interesting, tenacious and weathered but friendly. One slipped over and got wet and the other laughed, a tiny moment but one I will remember. I continued walking and was surprised by a quick brown flash of movement. It landed for a few seconds, a beautiful adult Goshawk with dark patterns and intense yellow eyes. I got one photo before it took flight. Inspired by a glimpse here and there I stalked this beautiful creature for ages through thick scrub. It was a determined effort and I ended up scratched and bleeding, covered in spider webs, sticks and grass seeds but did not get another shot.
In my effort to photograph the Goshawk, I had veered off the track and now found myself following a limestone cliff which overlooked the ocean. I came out into a small clearing and was startled to hear a familiar warning chit chit of an Osprey. He was perched in a dead bush about five meters away from me and also looked startled. I manoeuvred myself into a position to photograph and got a single shot of him taking off with wings fully extended and ocean and sky in the background.
