CATBIRD QUEST

It is hot. The cicadas are so loud I can't hear the bird calls. It is December 2022 and I am with Phil Gregory at Iron Range, hoping desperately to see a Black-eared Catbird. This bird is fast becoming a bogey bird. I visited Iron Range in 2017 with Phil Maher and in 2018 with Chook, on both occasions joining a tour in the vain hope of seeing a Black-eared Catbird (although in fairness I should point out that in 2017 I did add Spotted Whistling Duck to my lifelist at Archer River so it wasn't a totally wasted trip). I had thought that a catbird should be easy and that any guide worth his fee should be able to show me one. However, I've since learnt differently. Catbirds are not easy. They are elusive and, if they do not call, they can be impossible to see. So I was done with tours. On this occasion I hired a private guide. Phil told me that the three hardest birds at Iron Range are Northern Scrubrobin, Yellow-legged Flyrobin and, yes, Black-eared Catbird. Now I've seen scrubrobins and flyrobins aplenty: all I ask is one good look at an Iron Range catbird. Riflebirds were calling magnificently. Orioles wouldn't shut up. Black-winged Monarchs were both vocal and visible, making me wonder why I'd bothered with a special trip to McIvor River to add them to my list. Catbirds remained stubbornly silent.

Getting to Iron Range is expensive. Of course it's a delightful spot with some exceptional birds and I'm lucky to have an excuse to go there. But Lockhart River is a dry community so I am without alcohol for the duration. If I do see my catbird I will not be able to celebrate appropriately until I return home. To get to Iron Range, I fly to Cairns, then take the Skytrans Dash 8 to Lockhart River. Phil advises I should allow a good two days to get the catbird, so I leave home on Sunday, overnight in Cairns, fly to Iron Range on Monday, find the catbird on Tuesday or Wednesday, fly back to Cairns on Thursday, then home to Melbourne on Friday. Quite a production for one little bird. And this is the third time I've done it. Don't anybody try to tell me that I haven't earned this tick. So I flew to Cairns on Sunday. Here I did manage to see a Scaly-breasted Munia, a bird that avoided me when I visited Cairns in March to admire the Nordmann's Greenshank. On Monday I flew to Iron Range and met Phil. Hightlights for me were a Trumpet Manucode, a Green-backed Honeyeater and a Frill-necked Monarch. On Tuesday we looked seriously for the catbird. We saw a Yellow-billed Kingfisher, a Double-eyed Fig Parrot, a Yellow-breasted Boatbill and a pair of Northern Scrubrobins. I did hear a catbird in the far distance. On Wednesday I was starting to feel anxious. I would hate to think that I'd visited Iron Range in vain for the third time. We saw a White-eared Monarch to add to the Frill-necked and Black-winged members of the genus. All very nice, I'm sure, but not a catbird. Then suddenly, there is was! My beautiful catbird miaowing at me. He landed just above my head, allowing me to view his beautiful breast with much bolder markings than his spotted cousin. He flew around, teasing us, calling and (I thought) jeering at me. Needless to say I was absolutley thrilled, even though I wasn't able to toast his beauty with a glass of bubbly. Thank you, Phil. On Thursday, I added Palm Cockatoo to my list before I flew back to Cairns. On Friday, I flew back home to prepare for my big December trip: Christmas on Christmas.

THE LURE OF A LIFER

Wow! A lifer, Gouldian Finches, Rainbow Pittas and Zitting Cisticolas all in one morning! It was 9 December 2022. The lifer was a Swinhoe's Snipe and I was at Pine Creek, south of Darwin with Luke Paterson from NT bird Specialists. It was hot. Five minutes earlier I'd been conscious of the temperature. I'd flown to Darwin to look for the snipe against my better judgement as I had a long-standing appointment to go to Iron Range in FNQ the next week to look for what was fast becoming a bogey bird, the Black-eared Catbird. When I realized that I wouldn't get the snipe in my spare moments in Queensland after I'd got the catbird, I thought I'd better look elsewhere. Next year would be appropriate. I contacted Luke from Nt Bird Specialists and was told categorically: there's only one month to see the snipe - that's December. Could I fit in a quick trip to Darwin before my scheduled flight to FNQ? The lure of a lifer was too strong. Of course I could.

I flew to Darwin. I allowed two days to snare the snipe. On the first day Luke and I explored Darwin's best snipe hangouts - Leanyer Sewage Treatment Ponds (above photo is just outside Leanyear), Knuckey Lagoons, McMinn's Reserve. We had a pleasant day, clocked up a respectable 72 species, including some very good birds such as Red-headed Myzomela and Broad-billed Flycatcher. But I wasn't here for a pleasant time admiring very good birds. I was here for a lifer. It was time to get serious. Luke said our best bet was to drive to Pine Creek, some 225 kilometres south of Darwin. A snipe had been seen there recently. This bird (presumably it was the same bird) turned up every year and was very loyal to the one site - a drain beside the road. So Luke and I set off at 5.30 the next morning, full of optimism. A heat wave was forecast across the whole of the north of the continent. The countryside was very green. Wildflowers were in profusion. My mood remained positive even when we arrived at Pine Creek and parked under a large colony of fruit bats. And I was optimistic as we set off to explore the length of the drain. I was a bit alarmed to see that the drain was quite dry, but Luke seemed okay with that. Who was I to query the expert? A koel was calling and I made a mental note to track him down later, after we'd seen our quarry. The Hooded Parrots wouldn't wait: they flew right in front of us, the male unbelievably colourful and handsome. As I obediantly followed Luke beside the dry drain I began to be aware of the heat. I'd never seen snipe in a dry drain. Just what were we doing here? It was madness. We'd have been better off trying Knuckey Lagoon again. I trudged along considering ways I could have spent the money I'd squandered trying to see a Swinhoe's Snipe. Suddenly a brown bird flushed in front of us and flew fast across the oval: undeniably a snipe! The trip had been vindicated. Of course I hadn't really dounbted Luke. He was the expert after all.