They’d scented fresh blood.

And in the deathly silence of twilight as dusk fell over the moonlit plain, I could hear them coming for me.

A million manic mosquitoes, and I couldn’t move a muscle.

Actually, that’s a lie.

I COULD move – but I’d chosen not to. For 3 good reasons.

Firstly, listening for the call of the enigmatic Plains Wanderer – Australia’s first and world’s fourth most important endangered bird species according to the Zoological Society of London – required absolute stillness and quiet.

I was standing on the Hay Plain – flattest place in OZ, 200 km deep, 300 km wide AND with spring grasses as high as a Plains-Wanderer’s eye.

2 words. Needle. Haystack.

If we didn’t hear one, we’d never know where to start looking.

Secondly, the Plains Wanderer Weekend tours near Deniliquin in rural New South Wales @ $300+ per head were only run a few times each year. And often booked out months, sometimes years in advance.

This might be our only chance to see one – and the only chance for other birdos* on the tour, some from overseas.

Thirdly, in our tour group of 8, I was the only non-birdo. NO WAY was I going to be that person who spooked the Plains Wanderer and blew the REAL birdos chances of seeing it.

Even if that meant staying completely motionless and letting the mozzies** suck out every drop of my blood in a zombie-apocalypse-meets-mosquito-massacre until the dried out husk of my body fell soundlessly to the soil.

So, resisting the urge to slap the little suckers silly, I stayed stock still (in alliterative admiration).

But all I could hear was the frenzied whining of a million*** mini dentist drills. And all I could see were mosquito trails across the sunset as the swarm moved in for the kill.

If the Plains Wanderers were out there, they were lying doggo****.

Unlike the mozzies now covering the back of Pilchard’s hat.

Turns out in the absence of fresh blood, the mosquitoes make do with whatever they could find!

My descent into mosquito hell had started over 12 hours before at 6 am. We’d joined six other tour participants and two guides for a full-on tour of Deni***** birding hot spots, starting with the River Walk.

Or would have but for the simultaneous opening all 13 Hume Dam overflow gates resulting – unsurprisingly – in flooding.  The waters rose so rapidly the Edward River was already lapping at the levee banks when we’d arrived in Deni a couple of days before.

Ground-breaking water management technique – or simple cause and effect equation? YOU decide!

Weirdly, the swift and silent river flowing a few metres away didn’t bother us, even when the water level rose higher than our campsite at the excellent Deniliquin Riverside Caravan Park. But the flooding can’t have been much fun for Deni locals as roads, campgrounds, holiday shacks and the sports ground all went under.

But any photographer with a thing for reflections knows what to do when the water’s running high.

AND any birdo worth their binoculars knows that waterbirds LOVE ‘wetlands’, even if everyone else calls them ‘swamps’.

The lingo is just one of several ways birding pretenders like me can distinguish REAL birdos from everyone else.

There’s the obvious ones like surgically attached binoculars and a general inability to maintain a conversation when a bird – ANY (feathered) bird – comes into view.  Then there’s the dark side – like arguments about features and id, and the fact it’s just NOT POSSIBLE for a non-birder to see a rare or unusual bird BEFORE the real birder.

I thought I’d seen a Plains Wanderer once before on a remote Queensland roadside.

The bird was in the EXACT SAME pose as the picture of the Plains Wanderer in the bird book. Pilchard didn’t see it, but was able to state with absolute certainty it WAS NOT a Plains Wanderer. It probably wasn’t, but that confident non-id became a bit of a thing.

A higher level bit of a thing happened when we stayed at a birding reserve with a birding tour led by a well known university (read: mega-important) birder.

During the evening bird report (yes, people really DO spend the evening listing birds they’ve seen for fun), Pilchard called a not-so-common bird, listing several reasons to nail the id.

Big Birdo (as I dubbed him) loudly disagreed.

The bird had NEVER been seen in this spot.

Then another birder confirmed the sighting.

Big Birdo shook his head again. Not possible.  He’d been coming to this site for 10 years and had NEVER seen it, although he couldn’t come up with an alternative id.  Apparently, if the bird was going to show itself to anyone, it’d be Big Birdo as he had seniority.

Who says birding isn’t a contact sport?!

But I digress.

Luckily, the Plains Wanderer weekend tour wasn’t besieged by Big Birdo’s Buddies – just as well given Pilchard and I shared a car with 2 other birders and a guide for the 1½ days and 123 bird species we saw on the tour.   (Of course you will immediately recognise the Dollar Bird in the middle photo, haha)(yes, it’s the blob on the branch)(no, I’m not a bird photographer either).

But everyone was waiting for evening and the main event – hunting the wild Plains Wanderer. I managed to get a few sunset shots in between bird sightings, but as night fell, the mosquito massacre began in earnest.

Unless (unlike us) you’re very lucky, finding a Plains Wanderer requires patience and stamina. They’re (apparently) curious and if disturbed, they’ll (supposedly) stick their heads up to see what’s happening. In reality, a smallish bird – max height 19 cm (7½ inches) – sticking its head out above grass level at the  exact right moment on a plain bigger than Denmark has lower odds than winning the lottery.

My personal theory, based on the number of Plains Wanderers we didn’t see, is that they’re sitting pretty hoping like hell the big SUVs with bright lights driving slowly in circles will just go away. But what would I know. I’m SO not a twitcher******!

Happily, I don’t get car sick. But after several hours my face was freezing cold, my hands numb from mozzie bites and I was brain dead from peering out the window into the semi-darkness. I might not be a real birdo, but I wasn’t going to be the one who wasn’t looking at the critical moment.

I don’t recall who finally won ‘Twitcher of the Tour’ for first Plains Wanderer sighting at around midnight, except that it wasn’t me. But I got to see it all the same.

I stayed out of the post-sighting phone call frenzy – I just didn’t know anyone who’d be thrilled to hear about my rare bird sightings at 12 am. Perhaps I move in the wrong circles.

At around 1:00 am, 19 hours after Day 1 started, we returned to the caravan park, re-convening at 8:30 am after an all-too-short sleep break for the final half-day. Despite some interesting sightings and more mosquito hell at the ‘wetland’, nothing compared with the previous night’s thrill of seeing the rare Plains Wanderer, a true Aussie Oddity and the only representative of its family and genus.

Even for this non-birder, the Plains Wanderer Weekend tour was a BIG success. I survived the mosquitoes. I’ve been to birding hot spots not open to the public. I’ve got rare photos of the floodwaters – happily on the right side of the levee banks – some complete with scenic loos. I didn’t blow my non-birdo cover.

And I now know for sure I really HAVE seen the elusive Plains Wanderer!

Fast Facts:

Where: Deniliquin, generally on the banks of the Edward River and not in it, is 77 km north of Echuca/Moama on the NSW/Victoria border. It’s 725 kilometres (450 miles) south west of Sydney and 285 kilometres (177 miles) north of Melbourne.

What: The Plains Wanderer Weekend Tour is run by Philip and Patricia Maher of Australian Ornithological Services.  In addition to looking for the Plains Wanderer, tours cover birding sites in and around Deniliquin, including some places and habitats not open to the general public.

When: Tours are generally conducted during spring (Sept-Nov in Australia). Check the website below for tour dates and booking instructions.

Want MORE?

• Deniliquin, New South Wales
• Australian Ornithological Services (Plains Wanderer and many other Birding Tours)
• Plains Wanderer (Pedionomus torquatus)
• Deniliquin Riverside Caravan Park
• MORE Phots of Deniliquin on Flickr
• MORE Red Nomad OZ Birding Adventures

* Birdo = Birdwatcher

** Mozzies = Mosquitoes

*** Exaggerating? Well … YOU count them!

**** Lying Doggo = keeping out of sight

***** Deni = Deniliquin! But you knew that, right?!

****** Twitcher = Obsessive Birdo

The post Hunting the Wild Plains Wanderer – Deniliquin, New South Wales appeared first on Australia by Red Nomad OZ.

I was once one of the many travellers who, upon driving down the eastern shore of South Australia’s Yorke Peninsula, would pass the Port Clinton turn-off without a second thought.

That was my mistake.

And theirs.

Because it’s only 90 minutes from Adelaide, it’s a great base from which to explore many of the FAAAAABULOUS upper Yorke Peninsula’s attractions AND it gives great chill-out.

So why haven’t more people discovered Port Clinton South Australia?

Beats me. Especially when it’s got these HOT FIVE things to see and do! Sit back and take a tour – then tell me you don’t want to see them for yourself!!

The Scenery

Port Clinton’s location on the Yorke Peninsula and nearly at the northern tip of Gulf St Vincent means splendid coastal scenery. But to really appreciate the beauty of its setting amidst fertile farmland, take a drive to the lookout point up in the low range behind. This is classic South Australia!

In the town itself, it’s hard to miss the long line of low RED cliffs rising above the mangroves at the southern end of the great curve of the bay around which the township of Port Clinton has evolved. Just a touch of the sun and they GLOW.

An unusual mixture of red and white, the cliffs are great fun to explore and VERY photogenic!

But watch out for the tides

The Tides

At low tide Port Clinton’s shallow bay recedes so far from the water’s edge it almost looks like it’s been tele-transported inland. That’s the same view Matthew Flinders, first European to explore the area, saw in 1802 when he apparently waded ashore through the mudflats.

But if you’re wearing clothing that wouldn’t benefit from a liberal coating of the type of mud that hangs on for grim death and leaves a nasty stain when it finally and reluctantly lets go, you’d be advised to leave mudflat-wrangling to the explorers.

Or wait for high tide when the Port Clinton foreshore becomes a different place!

It’s hard to believe the bay’s shallow waters once held a deep (ish) water port where smallish ships berthed – yes, that’s why it’s called PORT Clinton! Of course it’s possible the almost-hidden plaque marking the site of the long-gone jetty at the northern end of the bay is a fake …

After all, it doesn’t say how many boats were beached at low tide while the jetty was operational!

The town’s position on Gulf St Vincent also means it’s in one of only three zones in the world (along with the Torres Strait and Gulf of Mexico) to experience the Dodge Tide phenomenon. But while it’s a thrill to think of watching something that most of the rest of the world hasn’t seen, the reality is that watching a dodge tide is almost as boring as watching water almost not moving.

In fact, it’s EXACTLY as boring as watching water almost not moving because that’s what a dodge tide is – although South Aussies are the only folk to call it that)! But don’t let me spoil your fun – check it out for yourself!

The Coastal Walk

It’s 6.6 km (4.1 miles) via the coastal walking trail from Port Clinton to Price, next town south along the Peninsula’s eastern shore. The track’s more than just a tiring walk for the less fit – it’s an intriguing habitat hike and it’s part of Walk the Yorke, a network of ~500 km of trails and roads connecting the whole of the Yorke Peninsula!

From above Port Clinton’s awesome RED cliffs the track winds between remnant coastal scrub and farmland before descending via a 78-step staircase onto a wombat-burrow-ridden plain and following one of Australia’s best Samphire salt marshes into Price.

If a 13.2 km hike ( total return distance – 8.2 miles) seems a bit too much for one day, break it into two legs by walking from Port Clinton to the top of the staircase and back on one day; and from Price to the bottom of the staircase and back on another!

The Birds

Q: What’s the common name for a low-lying, marshy area of land with pools of water?

a) Swamp

b) Salt Marsh

c) Wetland

If you answered a), relax. You’re a regular person.

If you answered c), you probably already know you’re a birdo.

Not everyone visits Port Clinton for the birds. Actually, hardly ANYONE does. That I know of, anyway!

But every summer, Port Clinton is the end of a gruelling journey – a round trip of up to 25,000 km – from the Arctic Circle for thousands of shore birds who spend the northern winter feeding on these southern mud flats to fatten up so they can fly back to the northern hemisphere to breed.

How do I know?

Pilchard and I regularly count the shore birds at Port Clinton for Shorebirds 2020, a Birdlife Australia initiative. Data us counters provide is used to monitor shorebird numbers and lobby for protection of threatened habitats for shorebird conservation.

By itself, our count data from Port Clinton might not be significant – but it’s helps inform the national shorebird conservation project.

And if we weren’t involved, I’d never have seen Red Knot changing from its standard drab, greyish colouring into brick-red breeding plumage right here in Port Clinton.

I hope our data helps to preserve its southern feeding grounds – northern habitat degradation have put Red Knot at risk.

So if you’re in Port Clinton and you see birds feeding on the shore, don’t ignore them! They just might be from the other side of the world.

Oh, and if you answered b)? You’re just a slightly more pedantic regular person.

The Club

One of the most attractive things about Port Clinton South Australia is its strong community spirit. Especially when that flows over from the excellent community caravan park managed by one-man-powerhouse Dusty, into an awesome recently refurbished Community and Sports Club – with its own bistro!

The community knows what it’s doing by sometimes issuing free drinks vouchers to caravan park guests – it got them two club meals in a three-night stay from us! But we were the REAL winners – this meal of two giant fish fillets was only $AUD10! And the house champagne only $3:50 – unless it’s happy hour, when it’s cheaper!!

Do yourself a favour

Of course there are plenty of other things to do at Port Clinton, especially if you’re not just there for a family bonding weekend to show your kids how excessive drinking and smoking negatively affects health, well-being and social interactions.

Or for a bird survey.

There’s fishing, swimming (high tide!!!) and crabbing (during months with an ‘R’ in them) to keep you busy. Check out the lookouts above the bay and on top of the cliffs, especially at sunrise and sunset. Drive up into the hills behind Port Clinton for fabulous views over the town and the Gulf. Explore the Clinton Conservation Park at the northern end of town. Hit the Club on Friday night for the great raffles.

AND use it as a base to explore the upper and/or central Yorke Peninsula – use these FIVE suggestions as a starting point:

• Get the good stuff from the FINE Ardrossan bakery just down the road (15 minutes drive) then go fishing from the Ardrossan jetty
• Go through the centre of the Peninsula to Barley Stacks Winery via Maitland (30 minutes drive)
• Visit the historic Moonta Mines area (3 walking trails) and/or the Wallaroo Heritage and Nautical Museum (also a town heritage walking trail) on the western side of the Peninsula (30 minutes drive)
• Drive across to Port Victoria (45 minutes), last windjammer port, and visit the Maritime museum or take a walk along the coastal Geology Trail (3 km)
• Spend a day on the beach at Tiddy Widdy near Ardrossan, or Moonta Bay near Moonta

Or if all else fails, just hit up the Scenic Loo just outside the caravan park – it’s a national loo superstar because it’s in MY BOOK!

Want MORE?

• Port Clinton South Australia
• Tide and Marine Information for Port Clinton
• More RedzAustralia adventures on the Yorke Peninsula
• Red’s Scenic Loo Book
• MORE TOP Aussie Towns!
• MORE Photos of Port Clinton, Scenic Loos of the Yorke Peninsula AND Yorke Peninsula on Flickr

The post Why Port Clinton is a TOP Aussie Town! appeared first on Australia by Red Nomad OZ.

‘The current’s running like a cut cat round the island,’ Jack shouted. He fired up Noctiluca‘s powerful 200 horse power engines and guided the eight-metre vessel into the bay.

Boat Tour to Ball’s Pyramid

If not for the camera in one hand and a convenient strut for balance in another, I’d have high-fived Pilchard. On our first trip three years ago, our tour had been cancelled due to bad weather. Two days ago, bad weather struck again.

But the third time was the charm, and we were finally en route to Balls Pyramid.  At 552 metres (1811 feet) in altitude it’s the highest volcanic rock stack in the WORLD!

It was going to be a bumpy ride.

That’s because the 23 km (14.2 miles) trip to the distinctive hunk of rock that is Balls Pyramid crosses a deep water trench. But the rare combination of open ocean and land makes the Pyramid a unique crossover habitat.  And that made it perfect for bird-watching and diving!

But first we had to get round the island.

As we rounded the northern cape with sheer cliffs plunging into the tossing seas, my psychic powers told me we’d entered the less protected waters. That and the wild westerly wind, rough, choppy seas. And the current which was indeed running like a cut cat as we headed for the islands.

Lurching and heaving in the boiling blue waters swirling round the rocks, we edged closer and closer to the cliffs.  We spotted a cloud of Grey Ternlets,birding lifer #1 for the trip, with five more to come before the tour was over. As all cameras except mine clicked wildly around me, I was in serious danger of being knocked overboard by thousands of dollars worth of giant lenses swinging wildly in the heaving waters.

What a way to go!

But as the spray rained down on all that expensive camera equipment, I caught my first sea-level glimpse of Balls Pyramid, visible from only a few places on Lord Howe Island.

An Extraordinary Tour Guide

Tour guide and skipper Jack Shick, a 5^th generation Lord-Howe-Islander and co-owner of Sea to Summit Expeditions, has all the island’s bases covered. When he’s not running fishing charters and Balls Pyramid tours, he’s guiding climbers up the 875 metre (2871 feet) high Mt Gower. Round the more rugged, eastern side of the island the view of the long, exposed ridge, last leg of the strenuous14 km hike that led to its summit gave me the cold shivers. Jack’s climb with his father at 8 years of age was the first of 1700+, the most ascents made by anyone ever.

All that despite being around my age!

Bird Life on the Open Sea

I resolutely put the thousands of metres of water between me and the bottom of the trench out of my mind as we entered the open sea. I braced myself against the side of the boat and tried desperately to keep the horizon level for yet another shot of Balls Pyramid.

We’d entered the ocean-going bird zone and the Flesh-footed Shearwaters wheeled and dived in a feeding frenzy. Can you guess why they’re also called ‘Muttonbirds’?  A flock of White Bellied Storm Petrels, world’s smallest seabird, fluttered around us their long, trailing legs looking like they were dancing on the waves. And a lone South Polar Skua on a rare excursion this far north cast a giant shadow on the deck as all cameras but mine clicked furiously.

Ball’s Pyramid

Balls Pyramid is impressive from wherever you view it.

But nothing had prepared me for the reality of the Pyramid with its massive, bare basalt peaks rising straight up out of the ocean, the intriguingly coloured rock towering high above our tiny boat.

Wild, wet and windswept, the heavy seas crashed around the rocky reefs at the Pyramid’s inhospitable 1100 x 400 metre base as Masked Boobies soared around the peaks.

Climbing Ball’s Pyramid

The first successful ascent was by Bryden Allen and party in 1965.  This followed an unsuccessful attempt the year before by a party including legendary explorer and entrepreneur Dick Smith.  In 1979, Dick Smith returned to the pyramid. With fellow climber John Worrall completed the ascent where he then claimed Balls Pyramid for Australia!

Me? AAAAARRRRGGGGH! Not ever, no way!

A Rare Creature

Inhospitable though the Pyramid may be, a remnant population of the endemic Lord Howe Island Phasmid was discovered here many years after it had been given up as extinct on the island. It’s the only known colony in the world.

As we chugged around the Pyramid, I was awestruck by the ever-changing vistas of its stupendous bulk. Colours and patterns swirled through its jagged peaks and sheer cliff faces, with massive cracks criss-crossing the rocky layers and perpendicular walls. I finally started snapping away.  Pilchard was horrified when he realised I hadn’t been quite as busy snapping the wondrous array of birds he’d never seen before.

And would possibly never see again.

Tragically, a reduction in photographic activity wasn’t the only clue as to who wasn’t a very good sailor as we slapped through the swell, spray swirling in all directions. Bracing myself against the side of the boat and Pilchard, I snapped the retreating Pyramid in its ever-changing guises as the rain moved in from the west.

Leaving Balls Pyramid Behind

Rounding Lord Howe Island’s southern end, the monstrous bulk of Mt Gower soared above us. Providence Petrels whirled and spun against the cliffs in the world’s only known breeding grounds as Balls Pyramid disappeared from view.

The extreme upper body workout I’d had from hanging onto the Noctiluca railings to stay upright in the heaving seas and monstrous swell had been tiring.  But I furiously pedalled my bicycle homeward against the wind, in a successful attempt to outrun the rain. Happily, we’d had the foresight to lay in supplies.  As the night closed in and turned to rain and I collapsed, exhausted, onto the lounge.

But unlike skipper Jack, I hadn’t climbed Mt Gower the day before. I still had a LONG way to go!

Want MORE?

• Balls Pyramid, via Lord Howe Island
• Lord Howe Island, New South Wales
• Lord Howe Island Birds
• Sea to Summit Expeditions
• Red Nomad OZ on Lord Howe Island
• More Lord Howe Island Photos on Flickr
• First ascent of Balls Pyramid by Bryden Allen and party

The post Basalt, Birds and Balls Pyramid! appeared first on Australia by Red Nomad OZ.

If I hadn’t been twitching I would never have gone to Tittybong.

And if that’s conjured up a disturbing mental image, keep reading! It’s not quite as perturbing as it sounds!!

Or maybe it is …

Most Northern Hemisphereans probably won’t understand.  Why would two otherwise sane, normal Australians (that’s a self-assessment, not an oxy-moron) would spend three days driving over 2000 km (~1240 miles) for a chance to see a couple of birds? Birds routinely seen in their millions elsewhere.

That’s something only another twitcher would understand.

So a Long-billed Dowitcher gets its continents confused—Southern AUSTRALIA sounds just like Southern AMERICA if you say it quickly, doesn’t it?! It was recorded at obscure Lake Tutchewop in northern Victoria for the first time EVER (as far as I know, please correct me if I’m wrong) in Australia.  It’s then BEYOND being a mere rarity. Or even a MEGA-rarity.

It’s a CRIPPLER**! In twitching terminology, anyway. (Note to readers: this post will have lots more jargon. Think of it as a learning experience. Or just get a book# on the subject!)

But wait! There’s more!!

When a Semipalmated Plover that normally breeds in the Arctic, then travels through the Americas to winter in South America is recorded near Carpenters Rocks in South Australia, that’s worth noting too. With regular sightings confirmed by the experts, neither bird was showing any signs of moving on.

And here, I owe regular readers of this blog an apology. Up until now, I’d thought a twitcher* was a common, regular, garden-variety bird watcher. I was wrong. Twitching goes WAY beyond mere birding – when a twitcher hears about a vagrant or rare bird, he or she (mostly ‘he’, weirdly) will do almost anything to spot it. Like travelling night and day by any means of transport for the privilege of possibly, perchance, perhaps spotting it. Or not.

That’s why ‘Twitcher’ and ‘Crazy as a Loon’ have the same meaning in some circles.

So when our Tenterfield birding buddy asked if we were going to see Semi-palmated Plover in our home state, we laughed. Would we REALLY make a 1000 km round trip just on the off chance of seeing a bird?

I don’t think so.

We’re just birders, NOT twitchers!

BUT! A couple of days later we left the house before 7:00 am for the ~6 hour drive to Carpenters Rocks.  And the chance to see Semi-palmated Plover in the flesh. Were we twitchers crazy after all?

I didn’t have to wait long to find out.

‘Left, or right?’ asked Pilchard at the first intersection. What could he mean? There was really only one way from here to South Australia’s southernmost point. Wasn’t there? He correctly took my silence for bemusement.

‘If we go right, we could make it to Lake Tutchewop and see the Long-billed Dowitcher first,’ he stated. Yes, it was official. We’d made ‘the change’!  We were now ‘twitching’!

So it came to pass, that dressed warmly for the 18ºC of cold, wind and drizzle expected at Carpenters Rocks, I found myself in warm, bright sunshine and a day that would become 28ºC. A day in which I’d spend over 12 hours in the car passing old haunts like the lovely Lake Cullulleraine.

And a day that would have no Crippler sighting (ie ‘happy ending’) to make the drive worthwhile.

But I didn’t yet know that at mid-afternoon when we reached Lake Tutchewop.  It was now saline – and MUCH bigger than expected –  and a magnet for migrating birds. Hundreds, or even thousands on its salty shores. And a shimmering heat haze distorting the glare into a rippling glow. Even with bins and the scope**, it turned the simple art of bird identification into a horrible nightmare.

What was that saying about needles and haystacks?

12 hours after we left home, and with ALL accommodation in the nearest town booked out by railway workers, we backtracked to Swan Hill with its FABULOUS Big Murray Cod in search of a cabin. If we’d driven across the river (there’s only one – the Murray River), we’d have had a 3-state day. Which is actually saying something down here, where each state is bigger than many European countries!

This twitching business was for the birds.

Back at the lake next morning, local birdo Tom pointed across the lake to several cars and people laden with bins, scopes and cameras. Luckily, there weren’t any cop cars and random radar units between us and our destination as we (almost) broke the land speed record. And there, amongst the terns and stints (so they tell me) with its tell-tale beak (mostly) tucked away under its wing, we SAW THE LONG-BILLED DOWITCHER!!!

And all I got was this lousy photo.

Wycheproof with the (self-proclaimed) world’s smallest mountain was the closest I’d been to the fabulously-named Tittybong.  I could thank Pilchard’s unaccountable refusal to take a detour for that. But today was the day – during our drive of several hundred kilometres south-west towards Carpenters Rocks we’d go right past it.

I didn’t know what was there, but I didn’t care. Doesn’t EVERYONE want to visit a place called Tittybong?

But tragically, I still don’t know what’s there. Perhaps I was looking the other way as we drove past, or maybes the main town was off the road. Whatever, I didn’t see a thing.

And that set the tone for the rest of the day.

Down we went through central Victoria. Tittybong; Dumosa’s cool scenic loo; Horsham’s excellent Oven Door bakery; back across the border (and time zone change) into South Australia and Penola, home of Australia’s only Saint.  Then south to Mount Gambier, South Australia’s second-largest town with attractions like the Blue Lake, Umpherston Sinkhole, the Tantanoola Caves and Mt Schank.

As if any self-respecting twitcher would waste time sightseeing! With rare vagrant Semipalmated Plover on the loose just half an hour away at Pelican Point on the coast, we weren’t stopping for anyone.

Finally, I was dressed appropriately as a strong, cold wind whipped in from the Southern Ocean.  It blew over sand flats and a rocky reef with thousands of hollows, shadows and shelves.  The reef was perfect for the hundreds (that may as well have been millions) of tiny birds hunkering down out of the wind. Down here, a few hours south, the moisture laden air coupled with the cunningly hidden birds turned the simple art of bird identification into a horrible nightmare.

Exchanging the dry and sun-drenched Lake Tutchewop for the green and drizzly Carpenters Rocks essentially hadn’t changed a thing. For us twitchers, anyway.

Carpenters Rocks is a wonderful place – all staggering scenery, wild coastline and fisherfolk heaven.  But it’ll forever hold a special place in our hearts as the scene of our greatest twitching ‘Dip’*** with Semipalmated Plover proving too elusive for us. The next morning’s fruitless hours passed and my hands froze into bird-like claws around my bins (is that ironic, or WHAT?!).  Yesterday’s mad dash south through Tittybong seemed a long, long way away.

So did home. Another 6 hours away. Or more, if we actually stopped for any reason, like eating or conducting random quality tests on scenic public loos. Or sightseeing! Kingston SE’s BIG Lobster and the Cape Jaffa Lighthouse, the Granites, the awesome Coorong National Park and several bakeries lay between us and a car-free day.

But what was I thinking? Sightseeing and twitching go together like binoculars and bulldozers!

A few hours later our Two-Night/Two-Thousand click****/one-out-of-two-is-better-than-none twitch finished where it had started – at home. For the moment, our twitching days were done.

Until two days time, where another two hundred-odd clicks away, we’d be spending the day counting shorebirds.

Does the fun never stop?

Follow Our Journey!

• Lake Cullulleraine, Victoria
• Swan Hill, Victoria
• Wycheproof, Victoria
• Kanawinka Geotrail, Victoria and South Australia
• Carpenters Rocks, South Australia
• Mt Gambier, South Australia
• Coorong National Park, South Australia
• MORE Red Nomad OZ Birding Adventures!

# In his excellent book Anoraks to Zitting Cisticola – a whole lot of stuff about Bird Watching, Aussie author and birder Sean Dooley takes the mystery out of this weird sub-culture by defining common bird watching terms and actions. His definitions are much funnier than mine. Which is probably why HE’S written the definitive guide to all you wanted to know about birding, and I’VE just written a book about toilets.

* Crippler = A rare bird

** Bins = binoculars. Scope = telescope. But you guessed that, right?!

*** Dip = No show, missed out, FAIL! :((((

**** Clicks = Kilometres. Or at least they do downunder!

The post Two Twitchers, Two Nights and Two Thousand Clicks! appeared first on Australia by Red Nomad OZ.

I slowly climbed the hill through the knee high dry grass, each step raising a cloud of dust. Every stick looked like a snake. But that was better than the other way around.

The heavy breathing behind me increased. The horse that owned the paddock was getting tetchy. I wondered what he’d do when he found out the camera bag over my shoulder didn’t contain carrots. Praise be for horse-proof gate latches!

There were other ways of getting to our favourite photography birding spot, but getting there was half the fun. The other half was having the lake to ourselves.

And that’s SO not going to change …

Yes, there’s a deep irony in the first of my series about our TOP Aussie Birding Spots being in a secret location.

But it’s not because we’re miserable beggars (I hope you admire my restraint!) who enjoy knowing something that not many others know, or even in taking a childish delight when enjoying a cruel laugh at their expense (although if I’m being perfectly honest …).

No, I can do WAY better than that.

• The lake’s on private property.
• It’s only accessible on the weekend.
• We’ve got permission from the owner.
• And the birds are skittish enough as it is.

So given that you’ll never know exactly where this birding hotspot is from me, the least I can do is taunt you with show you its delights. And one day, when our fantasy comes true and the owners allow us to build a weekender/bird hide there, we just might share it more openly!

Although other spots may have greater numbers, more species and rarer birds, this little lake somewhere in the Adelaide Hills is what photography birding is all about.

It’s an Australian White Ibis rookery.

It’s got the requisite dead trees, branches skewed artistically and photographically against the blue South Australian summer sky.

The trees reflected on it’s sometimes wind-dappled, sometimes mirror-like surface are a photographers fantasy.

And the reeds at the other end make a fine photographic challenge.

Although maybe not to a REAL photographer …

Oops!  There I go again, talking about photography instead of birding …  I mean, of course, that the variety of habitats means there’s always an interesting bird or two to spot!!

The Mount Lofty Ranges, although a relatively low range rising from the surrounding plain (Mt Lofty at only 727 metres above sea level (2385 ft) is the highest), are still high enough for a milder climate and higher rainfall.

In a ‘good’ year, it’s even been known to snow on Mt Lofty! However, in a ‘bad’ year – like February 1983’s Ash Wednesday – the (locally known) Adelaide Hills can be strafed by bushfires. But, even during the traditionally hot and dry South Australian summer, the hills are a stretch of sweeping views to the ocean, picturesque towns, gourmet food and wine, orchards and gardens.

The natural attractions and unspoiled habitats like ‘our’ lake are a bonus in this region known for its scenic beauty.

And an even bigger bonus are the birds, of course!

I first used my new digital camera here in January 2012, so each visit records my photographic journey and changes in style.

Oh! AND also a record of the ever-changing bird life on the lake!!

Each of us secretly hopes like hell something different is sitting there waiting for us to spot and/or photograph.

And on this thankfully snake-free day in early January, we were in luck! Pink-eared Duck made its first appearance here – as recorded by us, anyway.

Flocks of Ibis adults and young circled high above and a pair of Little Pied Cormorant shared nesting duties a few metres above the water.

Galahs gazed down from the ever-so-photographically-perfect bare tree branches against that marvellous blue sky, and Australasian Grebe swam across the lake with several young ones trailing in its wake.

A flock of Black-tailed Native Hen ducked in and out of the undergrowth edging the lake, tails bobbing just like Black-fronted Dotterel on a nearby sandy shore.  Reed Warbler, flitting in and out of the reeds were drowned out by the panic of a few Purple Swamphen, startled into raucous flight.

If you get the impression you’re being watched, you probably are. But not just by the birds. Often the last remaining secluded source of water in this part of the Adelaide Hills during summer, other birds and animals often drop in.

But on this early January 2014 day, so much was happening we barely noticed the absence of Rufous Night Heron, Rainbow Bee-eater and Spotted Crake, seen here on other visits. Or the passage of time … just when you think it’s all over, something else worth photographing staying for a bit longer to watch happens. Like the cormorant nesting changeover. Or the ibis feeding its young. Or a kangaroo coming down for a drink.

Or just the interplay of light, shade, reflections, colours and wind on the water. Yes, a photographer’s fantasy all right – especially when that (amateur) photographer is in ‘I’ve-got-a-new-camera’ mode!!

If I’d worn my watch, I’d have known exactly how much time we spent there – although maybe taking photos isn’t the only reason to bring the camera … if only I’d thought of that at the time!

And the time passed remarkably quickly given our ‘quick walk before breakfast’ plans!

But who needs breakfast on a glorious photographic birding adventure in a place like this?

Besides, incorporating chocolate into a meal is much more socially acceptable at brunch, anyway!

Finally, hunger and fatigue drove us back through the paddock towards home.

Tricking the horse into staying on the other side of the gate was easy – this time – but I suspect he’ll have his revenge if we turn up again without a couple of carrots.

But I don’t care. As long as the snakes keep their distance!

The post TOP Aussie Birding Spot #1 – Somewhere in the Adelaide Hills … appeared first on Australia by Red Nomad OZ.

I’ve got Pilchard to thank for some of our more obscure travel destinations.

If not for him, I wouldn’t be out birding.

And if not for birding, I wouldn’t have been in this marvellously scenic spot near Werribee on the outskirts of Melbourne’s west!

As I photographed the sunlight glinting across the waters of Port Philip Bay to Portarlington, and the panoramic vista stretching way past Avalon airport over the plain to the You Yangs, I wondered why no one else was around.

Doesn’t EVERY visitor to Melbourne want to visit the sewage ponds??

Weirdly, it’s unlikely you’ll find the Western Treatment Plant facility on any ‘Top 10 Melbourne Attractions’ lists, despite its environmentally friendly waste treatment credentials. And while its 11,000+ hectares of filtration ponds and lakes give good photo opportunity, they’re not used to define Melbourne in the same way as, say, the Yarra. Or the Queen Vic Markets. Or even the Boathouses of nearby Campbells Cove***!

I guess the opportunity to be where 52% of Melbourne’s sewage is being processed just isn’t that enticing.

Unless you’re a twitcher*.

If so, you’ll know EXACTLY what a nice sewage pond is doing in a place like this, and call it ‘Werribee’ – the ‘in’ name for birders worldwide. Because among the levees and lakes that make up the extraordinary patchwork of poo-ponds that is the Western Treatment Plant, the 284 species of birds recorded at Werribee from all over the world draw serious twitchers like flies to … well, you know.

But … you don’t just ‘drop in’ to Werribee. Jumping through bureaucratic hoops to get a permit just for the privilege of visiting a massive set of poo-ponds may be incomprehensible to non-twitchers, but as Pilchard’s best chance to spot a few lifers**, he happily signed up, giving assurances we’d behave responsibly.

Yes, there IS a sewage pond etiquette protocol!

Dang! I guess that meant the spontaneous sewage swim I’d been looking forward to was out of the question …

If you’re looking for a comprehensive photographic catalogue of the birds we saw, then don’t buy a lottery ticket because today is not your lucky day. The ‘responsible behaviour’ expected from THIS passenger became an exhausting round of navigating through the complex maze of poo-ponds; opening and closing the locked gates that kept the riff-raff out (because EVERYONE wants to break into a sewage treatment plant, right?) and in my spare time, ‘helping’ spot the rarities Pilchard was convinced lay lurking behind every shrub eagerly awaiting his identification.

Who says birding isn’t an extreme sport?

Telling twitchers and non-twitchers apart is easy! Just apply this simple test when a twitcher tells you he didn’t spot an unusual bird seen by almost everyone else in the same spot: If you’re a twitcher, you’ll openly commiserate while secretly gloating because you’ve either trumped the other twitcher (ie the bird’s already on your list); or the other twitcher HASN’T trumped you!

If you’re NOT a twitcher, you won’t care.

In a perhaps unsurprising demonstration of the ‘camaraderie’ for which the birding world is sometimes known, an older couple (ie older than US), their necks hung about with several thousand dollars of optical equipment waved to us from across a pond. We drove around to muscle in pick their brains be sociable only to find they hadn’t been waving, they’d been waving us ON! We’d cramped their style by daring to slow down directly above a bird lurking in the grass below the levee bank!

Chastened, we slunk away before they could take us out with their giant lenses …

For a place surrounding one with 360° of sewage (albeit filtered and treated), there’s one surprising – and ironic – omission at Werribee.

Perhaps a Public Toilet in a sewage treatment plant is redundant?

So I didn’t think I’d be issued with a ‘responsible behaviour’ infringement notice just for doing a squat amongst the sewage ponds … I mean, how could you tell??

I’ll leave you to decide whether being surrounded by sewage counts as a public toilet; OR if Werribee is the BEST scenic spot NOT to have a loo!!

If this post leaves you suffering from Australian Scenic Public Toilet deprivation, the best antidote is to  see a LOT of them all in one place, right? RIGHT??

SO … put yourself out of your misery and check out the other loos I’ve featured right here on Australia by Red Nomad OZ HERE! And if that doesn’t do it for you, then check out my book – Aussie Loos with Views!

* Twitcher = Birdwatcher. Who knew?!

** Lifer = Bird never before seen by you.

***  Tourism Victoria: I guess you’ll be BEGGING to use my Werribee photos to help promote Melbourne now, right??

Want MORE?

• Western Treatment Plant, Werribee, Victoria
• Melbourne’s West
• My BOOK:  Aussie Loos With Views!

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1 The Gun Birder*

Driving a bouncing 4WD with 4 passengers along a rough station track in search of Australia’s rarest bird wasn’t cramping the gun birder’s style one bit. All I could see were the vast, rolling plains of grass and samphire stretching to the horizon against an endless blue sky.

But our driver and guide on the Broome Bird Observatory Yellow Chat tour was unfazed by the spectacular scenery.  He could spot a bird at a hundred paces.

Calling birds to the left, right, in front and behind, he parked the 4WD at the massive lagoon, site of multiple Yellow Chat sightings.  He handed out the telescopes and set off at a brisk trot through the probably snake-ridden samphire towards the middle distance. The non-birdo Melbourne yuppie couple who’d joined us on the tour glanced at each other apprehensively. I guessed the tour wasn’t exactly what they’d thought.

Then I saw it. Over by the lagoon, a dark bird shape lurked on the shore! I pointed it out to Pilchard. And the yuppies. AND the GUN BIRDER! Who immediately trained a telescope in the general direction and invited me to step up and identify the bird. As if.

But I obligingly hoisted my camera out of the way and peered through the eye-piece, immediately diagnosing why the bird hadn’t moved.

Because even when they’re bird-shaped, pieces of driftwood rarely do.

At least the sudden and immediate loss of credibility left me free to take photos. And I DID see the elusive Yellow Chat – although YOU won’t! Not here, anyway. They were too far away to get a good shot.

But who’d doubt a gun birder??

*Gun Birder = Birding expert

2 The Massive Blush

The Broome Bird Observatory is one of the most significant migratory shore bird sites in the world. Thousands of waders, and more than 300 species congregate on the shores each year.

But it’s still apparently OK to drive along the pristine shores of Roebuck Bay.

Because negotiating the huge 9+ metre tide and treacherous rock, mangrove and soft sand hazards REALLY gives those driving skills a workout, wouldn’t it?!

Even if it is a bummer for the poor birds …

Having to phone a friend to pull you out when you’re bogged might be a little embarrassing.

But then who do you call when BOTH of you are hopelessly bogged and that massive tide’s rolling in??

However, the chances of the skipper getting massive all-body blush when explaining to the insurance company why two vehicles were trapped in the bay were actually very low.

Because from all accounts there WAS no insurance …

3 The Fog

In north-west western Australia’s Broome region, the Indigenous Yawuru people’s season of Barrgana has certain characteristics.   We could expect day after punishing day of endless blue sky, daytime maximum temperatures between 28°and 31° C, coolish nights and no rain.

That’s why the smart travellers head to Broome during the Aussie winter from June to August.

The smart birders head to the Broome Bird Observatory in August.  That’s because as the temperatures increase, the migrating wading birds start to arrive.

A change dropping the temperature by a few degrees was a welcome respite from the mini-heatwave in the depths of the moistureless and arid dry season.

But who knew an early morning fog would momentarily change the landscape into a magical wonderland??

4 The Birds, the BIRDS!

After my embarrassing sighting of the rare driftwood bird (see #1 above), I spent the rest of our BBO stay with my mouth firmly – and uncharacteristically – shut. I and my small camera with the non-detachable lens were decidedly outclassed by the big lens birding brigade.  So my photos from the Broome Bird Observatory show embarrassingly few actual birds.

Maybe my big bird photography lens envy was cramping my style.

I swung our borrowed ‘scope (that’s ‘telescope’ for you non-birders out there) along the length of ‘Wader Bay’.  Suddenly, the morass of what I thought to be pebbles and rocks at the waters edge jumped into focus and became hundreds and thousands of birds!!

We clocked up lifer after lifer (birds we’d never seen before) through the magical magnification of ‘scope and bins (binoculars!).  But although the huge mixed flocks moved ever closer with the tides, they remained resolutely rock-like in my photos.

Strangely enough, many birds failed to present in perfect photographic pose, with their best side conveniently facing my looming lens.

Is it so wrong to prefer mediocre landscape photography to mediocre wildlife photography?

5 And the Birders …

NOT possessing the birding gene can work against one at the Broome Bird Observatory, but it isn’t necessarily a character flaw! It’s actually an advantage to budding anthropologists wishing to observe the daily life of participants in the extreme sport of bird-watching.

Of course it’d be rude to point out the birder’s quirks, flaws and foibles.

Birds?  Or NON-birds??

So instead, I’ve listed a few observations to demonstrate SIX subtle differences between ME and the REAL birders:

1. Seeing ANY bird in the distance isn’t a signal to immediately stop what I’m doing and raise my binoculars.
2. ‘Eating’ and ‘Birdwatching’ are mutually exclusive activities. So are ‘Conversing’ and ‘Birdwatching’.
3. I’m a recovering non-birder with a photographic fixation. Don’t hate me because some of my photos don’t have birds in them.
4. Call me crazy, but I’ve been known to select holiday destinations without knowing what birds I’ll see there. And I collect brochures about attractions other than birding hotspots.
5. ‘Good Morning’ means ‘Good Morning’. NOT ‘How many birds have you seen already today, what were they and where were they?’
6. I don’t know how many birds are on my ‘lifer’ list. No, I don’t want – or need – any help with that.

6  Is the Sea Blue?  OR BROWN?!

Fresh from King Sound and the highest tides in the Southern Hemisphere, the school group from just up the coast in Derby descended on the Broome Bird Observatory viewing platform like a flock of rampaging emus.

Any self-respecting bird would run a mile.

But the famous Roebuck Bay tranquillity slowly worked its magic. Well … that and a few well-chosen witticisms from the long-suffering teachers.

‘Send me a postcard, mate,’ one teacher called out over the hubbub to a young student indulging his not-so-secret passion for telescope wrangling.

‘What, miss?’ He turned, puzzled.

‘Because if you keep that up, you’ll be WALKING home to Derby,’ she shot back at him.

Chastened, the group calmed and looked out over the famous blue, Blue, BLUE of the bay.

‘Where’s the mud, miss?’ another student ventured.

This time I was puzzled. Until I recalled that not so far up the coast at Derby, the tidal movement of the 9^th biggest tide in the world moves tonnes of mud up and down King Sound.

So for these students brought up on its shores, the sea is BROWN! Who says travel doesn’t broaden the mind?!?!

But hiding in the twisted branches of a tree just a few metres away from the fractured peace of this rollicking school excursion, Tawny Frogmouth slept on, safe in his daytime disguise …

Visit the Broome Bird Observatory

A few kilometres north of Broome and run by Birdlife Australia, the Broome Bird Observatory is a rare opportunity to explore a different side of Australia.  If you’re not afraid to rub shoulders with birdos, it offers accommodation, a camp-ground and tours to birding hotspots.

You don’t have to be a twitcher (ie birdwatcher) to explore the stunning coastline.  You can also discover amazing wildlife and wildflowers, walk the trails through woodland habitats or relax around the evening campfire.

But if you DO get the chance to experience this staggeringly scenic hideaway, I bet you’ll be back for more …

Have I talked you into it?  Get started on YOUR Broome adventure with cheap flights right here!

Want MORE?

• Broome Bird Observatory
• More about Broome, Western Australia
• Broome Flickr Photos
• MORE RedzAustralia Birding Adventures!

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The superb double entendre of 70’s conservation poster slogan ‘Save the Poor Bustard’ gave my childish mind what I can now identify as a salacious thrill. It could actually be repeated without the speaker being accused of swearing!!

All the same, it shouldn’t have come as a complete surprise when, after testing the slogan out once or twice, I was strongly ‘discouraged’ from saying it again …

Perhaps that’s why Google insists that ‘bustard’ is a misspelling – which may or may not say something about the linguistic abilities of those who google ‘bastard’.  Whatever.  But whether the reason I couldn’t find the poster is because a) Google is too puritanical or b) it just doesn’t exist in cyberspace or c) I just imagined the whole thing is academic because the result is the same!

The stately and measured pace of bizarre Australian Bustard (Ardeotis australis) as it moves across the grassy plains that its preferred habitat is deceptively slow!

And such a large bird with its oddly proportioned shape and clearly defined colour blocks, like an inept child’s drawing of an emu crossed with an alien should be easy to spot, right?

But despite it’s 1.2 metre height, and the open plains on which it travels, when threatened the bustard freezes into a cryptic posture pose or simply continues its slow and deliberate pace and disappears into the landscape.

As this Australian Bustard, spotted near Western Australia’s Quobba Blowholes did, leaving an unexpectedly almost-too-small photographic window for this amateur photographer!
Maybe there’s something to the alien connection after all …

Want MORE?

• More about Quobba
• MORE RedzAustralia Birding Adventures!

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