Morning in Australia

Up before dawn, I take a quick cold shower to rouse me for a full day of bird photography and gather my binoculars, hat, boots and camera. Leaving the hotel my Australian birder friends and I drive north , leaving behind Katherine, a small town in the Northern Territories of Australia. After about fifteen minutes we stop and walk down a dirt road to a stream called Edith Creek.

We were here the previous evening and saw several types of finches and parrots, scattered over the Pandanus bushes growing by the stream. We think they will return at daybreak for the water. After all, this is the dry season.

Taking position on the northeast side of the creek, we wait for the birds as the eastern sky lightens. Several flocks of finches arrive from southwest but instead of landing near us they continue towards the wide rocky field behind, settling on the scattered trees. Occasionally a Hooded Parrot zips by overhead offering a tantalizing glimpse of its yellow, blue and black feathers. When a parrot and a few finches land by the creek but they are lit badly and too far from us.

Meanwhile the wind carries the cacophony of birds from the distant trees behind us.

I refuse to believe that after all this effort we will fail to photograph our target species: Gouldian Finches and Hooded Parrots. Clearly those trees behind us have something that is absent in our location: seeds or fruits perhaps, or insects. A plan enters my head. The trees are to our east, so a direct approach would place the birds against the light, destroying any chance of a good photograph. I suggest to my friends that we make a wide detour around the trees and approach them with the sun behind us. They agree.

It’s a long walk, but when we finally have the right bearing and approach the trees, we see dozens of Hooded Parrots, males, females and juveniles, socializing and cackling away. Periodically they descend to the ground looking for morsels of food before returning to their perch.

Meanwhile the sun has come out and is climbing rapidly over the sky. The soft but clear morning light drenches the idyllic setting.

While we are admiring the parrots, a cloud of finches appears from the direction of the creek and settles into a nearby tree. They include Gouldian Finches, as well as Long-tailed, Double-barred, and Masked Finches. They are tiny, smaller than our sparrows, and we need to come closer to get our photographs.

The birds give us some time – ten or fifteen minutes – before they all fly away to more distant trees.

We head back towards the creek with the sun behind us. On a raised bank, while I am trying to photograph a Double-barred Finch jumping around in a bush, a flock of finches lands unexpectedly at water’s edge. We have a good vantage. They are all green, the colour of juvenile Gouldian Finches.

They dip their heads into the water in unison and then disappear. Parrots come next and drink. The last bird to drink is a red-headed Gouldian Finch, its brilliant colours reflecting on the water.

When they leave, the creek, its banks, and the trees in the plain are empty once again. It is hard to imagine that just a few minutes ago it was the site of one my most memorable birding encounters.

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