THE QUEST FOR THE NORTHERN SHRIKETIT

Some birds are easy. You just have to go to the right place at the right time and there they are. Try Island Thrush on Christmas Island or King Penguins on Macquarie Island. Some birds are difficult. I reckon seeing a Lewin's Rail or a Red-lored Whistler is always difficult. Some birds are virtually impossible. For many years, I felt that White-necked Petrels were in this category. But surely every vagrant counts as virtually impossible: there's nowhere you can go to see it; you just have to luck onto it or be fortunate enough to twitch it. While it does not qualify as 'virtually impossible', I'm here to tell you that the Northern Shriketit certainly isn't an easy bird.

When the IOC recently split the Crested Shriketit into the Eastern, Northern and Western, I found myself with two new birds to chase. I grew up with Eastern Shriketit. The first one I remember seeing was on a school excusion to the beach when I was 12 or 13 years old. Why the school saw fit to take us on an excursion to the beach I cannot imagine. But I remember the rest of the class was frolicking happily in the sea and I was wandering alone in the sand dunes quite bored, probably wishing I was back in the classroom doing algebra. Then I saw a breathtakingly beautiful bird - gorgeous bright yellow and black and white. A very striking bird in anyone's language. We called it an Eastern Shriketit in those days. Only later was it lumped to become the Crested Shriketit we've known until recently. Shriketits have been part of my life ever since. They were resident on my parents' property in north central Victoria. I remember sitting on a bench at Banyule catching up with birdy gossip with Richard Lloyn when his astute hearing picked up a shriketit above us tearing the bark from the trunk of a eucalypt. But I'd never seen either a Northern or a Western Shriketit. So now there were two new birds to chase, which was fine by me. I was planning to visit Christmas and Cocos in November, so I figured I could fit the Northern in beforehand and the Western on the way home. So it was that I found myself in Darwin with three other eager birds being escorted by Luke Paterson from Northern Territory Bird Specialists towards Katherine and the Central Arnhem Road. None of the shriketits has a conservation classification, but the Northern is sparsely distributed. We set off from Darwin at 6 a.m. on Wednesday. We had breakfast at Adelaide River and lunch in Katherine, and arrived at the spot where Northern Shriketit are sometimes seen by some select birders just before 4 p.m. It was hot, but we clambered out of the vehicle, eager with anticipation. We hadn't yet failed in our quest. Luke led us bush bashing to the north of the highway. There were few birds of any sort. I think we saw more wild donkeys than birds. We certainly saw more buffalo than birds. We did flush some Brown Quail, which sounded like horses snorting when they flew. We saw several Black-throated Treecreepers (both male and female) and a few Masked and Black-faced Woodswallows. Yellow-tinted Honeyeaters were numerous, but there was precious little else. At 6 o'clock we admitted defeat and returned to our motel, with not quite the enthusiastic optimism we had all exhibited at 6 o'clock that morning. We went spotlighting that night, targeting Chestnut-backed Buttonquail. It didn't occur to me not to join the group spotlighting, although I had assumed that we'd be looking for birds other than the buttonquail and I was surprised when Luke drove past a frogmouth without bothering to slow down or point it out. I guess noone was there to see a frogmouth. We didn't see any buttonquail either. It was a late night after an early start and we set off again at 5.30 the next morning, after having our sleep disturbed by heavy noisy rain in the night. Thursday was a new day and we greeted it with renewed optimism, telling ourselves that the rain would have freshened everything up and encouraged the shriketits to be more vocal and more visible. We left our Katherine motel at 5.30 and breakfasted at a roadside stop on Central Arnhem Road. We told each other that the water beside the road would encourage the birds. Then it started to rain again. Nevertheless by about 7 a.m. we were again looking for the shriketit, this time walking along the road rather than bush bashing. After about half an hour of this we looked a pathetic wet bedraggled bunch. Worse, there was no hint of shriketits. It was about then that I thought it had been a wasted trip and started wondering when it would be convenient for me to come back and try again. A Paperbark Flycatcher attacked a Sacred Kingfisher, but none of us thought it was worthy of mention. Quite undaunted, Luke left us in the rain and ran back to get the vehicle. We squelched aboard and Luke drove slowly, windows down, listening intently for the call of the shriketit that didn't come. After a while, we were out walking again, this time quite lacking in confidence. I must confess that I do not enjoy birding in the rain. I do not enjoy bush bashing in wet bush. I did my best not to be grumpy. Dutifully, we followed Luke, uncertain if it were all wasted effort. I don't remember how long it took. It cannot have been as long as my memory insists, but eventually, Luke heard a shriketit call. It was extremely faint and could have been quite a distance away. We all perked up immediately. Luke hurried towards the call and I did my best to keep up. Quite quickly he found the bird, a single male high in the canopy. We all saw it well; it was joined by a female. We followed the pair. The birds came down to eye level and we all had good looks, as this photo by the unforgettable Jim Sneddon attests.

It is always good to tick a new bird. It's especially good to tick a difficult bird, but it is perhaps even better to tick a bird when you have given up and accepted the trip was a failure and you'd have to try again some other time. Thank you, Luke! With the Northern Shriketit under my belt, I set off happily for Christmas and Cocos Islands, then, on the way home, I paused in Perth to try for the Western Shriketit. That was supposed to be a much easier bird. I had a lovely day in the bush with Des Hume, but, alas! there was no Western Shriketit for me. I should be pleased to have an excuse to visit the south west again, but I'm afraid I am simply frustrated that I have not ticked a supposedly easy bird!