I’ve just returned from a family holiday in Australia where I was lucky enough to visit the Great Barrier Reef, the world’s largest coral reef system. And although I was overwhelmed by the reef - this 1,400 mile long structure consists of 2,900 individual reefs and is so big it is even visible from space - it was the sight of an osprey that inspired an idea for a painting.I spent a week touring the northern tip of this bright underwater world from a live-abroad boat named Aroona. Every day I dived into clear blue water to see fish, starfish, turtles, whales and sharks. I had boarded the Aroona after flying to Lizard Island, one of the northernmost islands on the inner reef. I was so excited when I arrived the first thing I did was jump into the sea. Below me was a giant clam, four feet across. Not only was it beautiful it was covered in a host of different corals. This was just the start. There were a vast array of different corals all surrounded by tropical fish darting away as I snorkelled through a kaleidoscope of colour. Rising sea water temperatures have reportedly killed off much of Australia’s beautiful coral beds and I had been worried that I might be too late to see this spectacle. But although I did see some bleached coral, most of these colourful subaquatic structures still teem with fish. I was mesmerised.
https://youtu.be/BYW74CTIHTE
That evening the lights on the stern of the boat attracted small fish, which in turn attracted big-eyed jacks and trevely; two species of hunting fish. The water below boiled as they broke the surface in a fishing frenzy. A larger shape appeared in the water. It was a shark. Aroona’s first mate and our guide for the week, Joe Buck, identified the two-metre long tawny nurse shark for us. He explained that you could actually stroke a nurse shark like a puppy. But with trevely fish hunting and likely to nip at my fingers I decided against going in the water. Soon another tawny nurse shark joined us.
https://youtu.be/UF4_WqkXUtQ
https://youtu.be/pl1mTiMlUgc
The next morning Joe pointed to a rocky pinnacle on Lizard Island with a huge stack of sticks piled onto it. We suspected it could be an osprey’s nest. Ospreys build huge nests, known as eyres, from driftwood and seaweed. They use the same ones every year, and the material can build up. This one was so large we could see it from almost a quarter of a mile away. Looking through my binoculars I could see the bird’s white head. I have watched ospreys in Scotland, and even on the farm my father managed in Givendale on the Yorkshire Wolds, so I was intrigued to see an Australian, or Eastern, osprey. These birds are marginally smaller, and paler in colour, than ones we see here. They are also much more common. It was late afternoon and Joe and I scrambled 350 feet up to the top of a ridge overlooking the nest. I took a few photographs, but the osprey was too far away. As we watched it took off, circling overhead. Ospreys have a wingspan of between five and six feet and as it circled two more joined it. They looked very impressive against the setting sun.
We returned at dawn the next morning, heading to a windswept bush I had spotted the day before. It was right at the top of a ridge and although it gave me an unprecedented view of the eyre, it was so dense there was little chance of disturbing these special birds from there. As we got close the female osprey lifted off. We had to work fast. I climbed into the bush with two camera bags and set up my tripod and camera. Out here I needed to improvise. I used a pair of camouflage-design shorts and some camouflage camera covers cable-tied to branches above my head. Once I was inside, Joe topped this makeshift hide with more branches and dead grasses until I was completely concealed. I reckoned on the osprey being unable to count and so when it saw Joe leaving it would assume we had both gone. My hunch was correct. Before Joe was back at the shore, the female was back on the nest. As she landed on the sticks, I noticed something move. She had a chick in the nest. It was roughly four weeks old. I watched it wander around the nest while she stood guard.
As the sun rose the female was bathed in a golden light; perfect for photographs. She looked up and called and the male appeared out of the sky, its talons stretched out with a small sergeant fish in its grasp. As he landed on the nest the female grabbed the fish. But the male was reluctant to let go and tried taking off again. He hovered over her in a brief tug of war, but the female had the fish firmly in her beak and he eventually gave in, landing disgruntled onto the nest beside her. The chick rushed forward in excitement. The female went to the other side of the nest and fed it, turning her back on the male. The male, still looking a little put out, started to look around the nest as if searching for something. The female ignored him and fed the chick with small morsels of fish. She ate any larger, bonier bits herself.
The male hung about a little longer. It watched intently as she fed the chick, its head comically bobbing up and down as it followed each stretch of the female’s beak. Then he examined the nest again before, effortlessly, taking off into the wind. All this happened before 7am. Then there was a long wait before the male came back again. The female had been calling for him, looking up into the sky. When he returned he landed on straight on her back, clearly intent on mating her. His talons were clenched tight, so as not to damage her, and he rested on his elbows. But she was not cooperative and he took off. When he returned the female peered at him intently; calling out begging for food. The male seemed more intent on wrestling with the sticks in the nest, as if he thought some were out of place.
She suddenly took off herself, calling out angrily. It was as though she had given up on him and decided she was off to catch a fish herself. The male looked shocked to be left in charge of the chick. He faffed about with the nest in a disconcerted fashion. But it wasn’t long before she was back with a decent sized mackerel. She had already eaten its head and was soon feeding the chick its second meal of the day. The male left and then came back again, landing on her back in second attempt to mate her. But she ignored him again and carried on feeding the chick, whose crop was now bulging with food. The male tried to snatch the fish from her and she had to turn forcefully away from him. The chick ate its fill and fell asleep, leaving the female to finish off the scraps. I was delighted at what I had seen, and had some great photographs to use for a future painting. But after being cramped in a bush for nearly six hours in the heat it was good to return to the Aroona for a swim in the waters over the colourful reef. Take a look through a slideshow of my paintings below.
https://youtu.be/28Sy_fat6vY
