8:15 Ben Blewitt picked me up and quarter of an hour later, Mark Jagusch from his home. This was Ben's first Cassowary Tour of the Gulf, Mt Isa region. At a stop in Atherton, we found a very placid fan-tailed cuckoo, heard a yellow-breasted boatbill. A few brown gerygones busied themselves. A pair of Shining Bronze Cuckoos was at Archer's Creek.
We passed Innot Hot Springs and stopped for lunch at the Forty Mile Scrub, a strange place full of fruiting figs, beautiful white cedars, and bottle-shaped broad leaved kurrajongs. They had just finished flowering and their bare branches reached for the sky. "The rest was a tangle of vines. Burdekin plums were dropping their fruit. Walking the track we saw a little shrike-thrush and dozens of fairy gerygones. Brush turkeys ambled about. Varied Trillers were heard. Lewin honeyeaters were common. Torresian crows ever present, as well as grey fantails. Silvereyes, shall we say, twittered. Odd to see all these birds so far inland.
Reaching Mt Surprise, we stopped at the gemshop, and the first whirling flocks of galahs. They were perched in trees, wheezing and shrieking, the young complaining, and never shutting up. Beautiful birds with their rosy pink fronts, and silver-grey back, especially when flying. We went down a gravel road looking for a group of banded lapwings, which had been seen recently, but No luck. On the way back we came upon the first Emu of the trip. It took no notice of us, but just loped along, trying to look intelligent.
Back on the road we had views of wedge-tailed Eagles, or Wedgies, as I call them. We scoped a red-backed kingfisher a bit later on. A common bronzewing flushed from the roadside, but landed in a tree close by, where it was also scoped.
A high earth dam, by the road, had a gaggle of upstanding plumed whistling-ducks lined up along is far side. As we were looking at them, the first apostlebirds of the trip arrived. You could hear them coming, a prattling, grating, jarring of the argumentative grey-blackish birds. Up on a strong ridge opposite we heard yellow-throated miners, new for Mark, and a flock of loudly piping blue-faced honeyeaters. Mark had reasonable views of the miners.
We stopped at Routh Creek, in case of Spinifex pigeons. No go. Then continued on to Georgetown and went out to the airfield. In the late afternoon, the sun resting on the horizon., we saw a bird acting suspiciously, just like a wagtail. We became more and more convinced that it was a wagtail. Ben grabbed the scope, and strode off up the fence. Mark and I followed. By the time we reached Ben the wagtail had changed into an ordinary everyday Australian pipit. Later in the trip I tried to change anther pipit into a chat, as the sun disappeared and dusk deepened, we disturbed about 4 singing bush larks in the long dry grass.
After a roast dinner with a red, we sat outside and were visited by a Tawny Frogmouth. We later tried for an owlet nightjar with no success, so went to bed and snored peacefully.
Rose gracefully from my bed, and tripped over my boots. Good breakfast. Came to a gate at Durham Dam, which I couldn't open. I was about to pull the fence down, when Ben came and undid the gate. Quite simple really, I felt very silly for a couple of seconds, but the birding spectacular just ahead changed all that.
We came to a causeway and stopped. There was a tree to the right with fairly white branches. I noticed a red-backed kingfisher on the right of it, the early suns rays picking out his white front brilliantly. Then we noticed the branches on the tree were covered with black-throated and dozens of zebra finches. The feces bushes around us had twittering zebras in large numbers. On the left side of the track there were more zebras feeding on the ground, with black-throated finches and a small group of masked finches, the Cape York race with white cheeks. Mark was able to get some good views of them. There were also double-barred finches in fair numbers. Yellow tinted honeyeaters were busy and a few singing honeyeaters were attempting to sing. They definitely can't sing.
We advanced on the causeway. Suddenly we saw a male bustard, then another, and another. Altogether there were four, and at one stage it looked like they were dancing a very good tango, with wings outspread. They danced off stage and were replaced by a large group of squatter pigeons. There must have been about 30 of them, maybe more. They straggled across the track, in disorderly fashion, the last one in a panic. As we were going up to the dam wall, we came upon the last squatters feeding among the red termite mounds. I heard red-browed pardalote calling and tried to track them down, walking through feeding finches. I heard my name being discussed, something about being obsessed with red-browed pardalotes, not wanting to be obsessed by anything, I desisted. Just before the dam, amongst mooing, curious cows, a lone diamond dove sat unmoved.
Durham Dam itself held flotillas of pink-eared ducks. Pairs were splitting off and circling each other. I really don' know what that meant, pairing of and getting giddy. At the far end were Australian wood ducks, resting in the shade, Pacific black duck, hardheads, and grey teal sailed placidly? Ben got some good shots of both the black-fronted dotterel and the red-kneed dotterel which were patrolling just below us. We had great looks at a brilliant male variegated fairy wren in some feces bushes close by. At certain times of the year these bushes do have a certain perfume.
Next stop, Cumberland Dam, with its giant chimney stack. A bit disappointing really. We had excellent views of a Paperbark Flycatcher-smaller, darker, small bill. Also there were some rather dangerous looking bearded characters watching us. We crossed a sandy bed of a creek, on which they had erected a target, and the middle of my back felt icy as if any moment it just might be a target also. I wasn't frightened, but my knees were.
Walking stony banks and gravely creeks we came on a party of grey-crowned babblers scrabbling amongst dead branches. A white winged triller, and some varied sitellas flitted busily about. The sittellas scaling trunks and branches, uttering their faint tinkling calls. A black-faced cuckoo shrike swooped away. We saw many black-faced wood swallows, and little wood swallows were starting to appear.
Back where we left the vehicle by the dam, we had a cuppa. A couple had their washing hanging out, and I watched a cow that looked as if it was going to attack a flapping towel. It gave it a good sniff. Then when I thought it was going to get interesting, it just walked away. Out on the dam, we saw the three egrets, great, intermediate and little. White-faced and white-necked herons paced slowly and carefully. A pair of brolgas appeared from somewhere.
On the road to Normanton, low mallee type vegetation became a blur. In some sections there were long, thin, acacia-like trees, another had broad blue-leaved acacias. There was a great variety of small eucalyptus, calitris pines, and grevilleas, some that could have been hakeas. Dotted amongst them were termite mounds from reds, browns, to at one section of stark all white ones that resembled a cemetery. They were startling, quite beautiful amongst black ironbarks, or some trees resembling them.
We had a short stop at the Norman River. As we were parked, we saw a sarus crane family, pacing sedately along the shallow creek. We didn't expect, or I didn't expect to see cranes in that situation. They left the creek, and came up past our vehicle. Great views very close. Then suddenly one opened its wings, and without effort lifted off, followed by the others. The only other thing of interest here, besides the smell of something rotting away close by, was a demented fantail, that dashed madly around. Every time you got a view of it, it moved. In the end I think it was a grey fantail, although it seemed darker somehow, maybe just a subspecies.
Driving towards Karumba we came upon great open plains, more like salt pans and dry salty river beds. In the wet season I could imagine water everywhere. We came on an area of deep lakes, tall rushes. Sarus cranes and the odd Brolga poked peacefully around in the low green grasses, we saw a marsh sandpiper feeding on the muddy edge of one pool, and a black-necked stork disappeared behind a huge bed of rushes, then out onto the plains again. On the fences, at regular intervals, we noticed lots of brown falcons, interspersed with kestrels. Australian pratincoles flushed from the roadside, some flying level with the car for short distances.
We made a dash for the seafront at Karumba and watched with many others, the sun settling down for the night. The dark clouds turning to gold, fading to silvery yellow. Then the sun, just a bright orb, fell into the ocean and disappeared. It was dark when we drove into our motel. Comfortable, but had to go out for a meal. Took a bottle of red, and we all, I think, had Reef and Beef, and belched happily.
Woke early and sprang from my bed, well I think I did. Everything was done in a fog. Ben and I shared a room and he watched very carefully to see what I did. Had breakfast, which tasted like paper, might have been the front page of the paper. Out in the front gardens we saw yellow white eyes, also what we at first thought were yellow-tinted honeyeaters, but turned out to be white-plumed honeyeaters. Yellow-tinted were there, but we had to look more closely.
Met Russell and his boat at the ramp. Two women with binoculars came with us, and we proceeded across the Norman River to the far shore covered with mangroves. He stopped at one spot and tried to whistle up the mangrove grey fantail. We did get glimpses, but not clear views, and they wouldn't come close. We had good views of female redheaded honeyeaters, and finally a great male red-head glowing. The next was the Mangrove gerygone, had short views all along the mangroves until finally we had them close up to the boat. I managed to get the eyebrow clearly. We heard white breasted whistlers calling and managed to get views of females. Then in one magic moment a male materialised right beside the boat hopping from branch to branch, then down to the mud, where he caught a small crab. He was around us for some minutes. At one spot Russel threw a fish into the water for an osprey. It was interesting, but a gull swooped and got it. With the next fish it was alert and in a smooth dive, picked up the fish and flew off. Russel also had a black-necked stork that was used to him. He threw it some fish and it pranced around close by, catching the scraps. At one stage a pair Brahminy kites came down, and harried it. Returning to the ramp, a hobby was seen and black kites by the dozen with a pair of whistling kites mixed in. A sacred kingfisher perched by the ramp. Going back to our motel we came upon a couple of trees full of red-tailed black cockatoos complaining quietly.
Leaving Kurumba, we stopped by some saltpans and chased a cistocla in the grass beside the road. We worked out that it was, or might be a zitting Cisticola. We passed back through Normanton on the road beyond, Ben shouted "Black breasted Buzzards!" There gliding over the car, were an adult pair. They were reasonably low, and the underwing patterns were perfection. They were the only ones we saw on the trip. A bit further on, passing through low acacias and eucalypts and rocky open soil, dry hungry country, I call it. Ben shouted again "Ground Cuckoo-shrikes" All this shouting was a bit disconcerting, it kept waking me up. I saw two dark shapes cross the road and disappear. Then another shot across the road. I got the pale grey back and black wings before it too disappeared. In low bushes, by the road, some honeyeaters were flitting around. Mostly they were grey-fronted, but there was as least one grey-headed amongst them. The grey-headed was new for me, and both I think new for Mark. Poor Ben, nothing was new for him.
We stopped at the Burke and Wills Roadhouse for lunch. Mark ordered a somewhat remarkable chicken burger, I gather from his remarks it was unforgettably bad. He still brings it up in conversation, not the chicken burger. I think Ben and I got off lightly. Around the corner, a lot of no hopers were doing something. I don't know what, but whatever it was they seemed to be having fun, and they were still doing it when we left.
Turning West on the road to Gregory Downs we began to notice cockatiels in small flocks, and the crimson chats were everywhere. Not in full colour, but their crimson rumps blazed with colour, and some were putting on colour on their fronts and heads, not well, but it was coming. We had been getting chats since Georgetown. Along the road further, and we had great views of wedge-tailed eagles. Huge birds, magnificent birds. Wings-spread, breathtaking. A few miles on Ben shouted "finches!" He knows how to get my wondering attention, he also causes slight heart attacks, and he also wakes mark up. By the roadside were my first long-tailed finches, red billed form, with a long slender tail. Again many zebra finches feeding close in the grass and crossing the road further up. Crimson Chats were feeding on some blossoming eucalypts, active like honeyeaters. Usually you see them feeding on the ground.
We hit the Gregory, well drove over it, sounds bad either way, and hit a very dusty dirt road. This road was used by huge mine trucks, and you could see clouds of billowing, rolling dust advancing. We had to stop until the trucks and dust had passed. You could not see your nose in front of you, hard to do anyway, everything was invisible. A few seconds later it had cleared enough to move on. I think three trucks passed us.
We arrived at a waterhole in the late afternoon, in a sandy creek bed. Huge figs and paperbacks hung over the water. Numbers of common Bronzewings were flying in continuously and bobbing around the waters edge. The occasional bar-shouldered dove came in. A blue-winged kookaburra meditated and the first varied lorikeets were heard.
Arrived late at Adele's, had limp silverside, not enough. I can't enthuse over the food there, but the tents are okay I guess, and you have to walk a distance to the showers and the toilets, which are in the opposite directions to each other. But who cares, I don't.
I awoke and dressed haphazardly. I was still haphazard when I joined he others, who were helping identify birds for some other people. I immediately called a Northern fantail wrongly, a long-tailed finch was called a black-throated, a yellow-tinted honeyeater became heaven knows what. I thought it was wise to just shut up.
We were in Lawn Hill by about eight. We followed a concrete path beside the gorge; Along the waters edge were figs in fruit, graceful paperbarks, spiky pandanus, leichardt trees, and palms. The purple-crowned fairy wrens, I got a glimpse of a purple crown for a second, among the pandanus, were in eclipse plumage, they didn't look too far off colouring up though. Family parties were easy to see foraging away from the pandanus. The other very confiding bird was the buff-sided robin, a splendid bird, well-marked buff sides set against much darker plumage, very smart. They flew right up to you, and looked you in the face. I like that in a bird.
White-gaped honeyeaters were common here and great bowerbirds were in droves. Quite often feeding on the figs, and flying around with the red fruit in their bills. Maybe taking them back for decoration for their bowers.
We scaled, or in my case stumbled, up the escarpment. At one lookout n the far side on some rocks we thought we had a good view of the sandstone shrike-thrush, but it turned into a grey shrike-thrush. Eventually we reached Duradarn lookout, across from us huge, steep-walled crags, layers of rocks, Spinifex grass and stunted trees. Whirring flocks of more than a hundred budgerigars chattered their way above the waters of the gorge far below. They flew down the gorge in bright green flashes bending and twirling, showing points of light as their heads caught the sun. They flocked to the trees opposite and other smaller flocks skittered across the cliffs and grasslands. The sandstone shrike-thrush was a bit hard to find at first. But after much patience and scoping we were able to get very good sightings, watching them hopping, resting and I guess feeding. Only single birds and very occasionally flying. A big heavy bird and his call echoing through the rocky gullies of the gorge were magical. It put me at peace with myself.
I heard a soft "Coo", and looking at a rocky headland saw a portly Spinifex pigeon importantly viewing his domain. It was joined by four others. They flew down to a Spinifex patch and disappeared. But others arrived, and you would see fluttering wings as they moved about. Eventually they came out on a rock platform and sunbathed I guess. Ben took some good shots, more than passable considering the distance. Lovely small top-knotted pigeons that patter quickly over the rocks and Spinifex.
Mark spent a great deal of time watching an ordinary black-chinned honeyeater, the eastern form, feeding in a bush close by. Earlier a golden-backed had flown like a yellow shaft of sunlight across the gorge. Outstanding colour. This was the northern form of the black-chinned. Phew! It was great. While we were here we met three other birders. I had met Steve twice along the Esplanade before. One of his companions said we could call him Lumpy, which he was in every direction at the same time. The other fellow was very quiet. But Lumpy was an easy going friendly character, full of fun.
Returning, we came to a lovely waterfall surrounded by pandanus, paperbark, palms and other greenery. The red rocks and cliffs in the background, and light coloured Spinifex clothing small rock gardens added to this glorious scene.
In the afternoon we wandered in shady gallery forest that followed the stream that flowed into the gorge. It was again mainly pandanus, melaleucas, Leichardt trees, and tall slender palms. There may have been a few calistomons, and the ever present fruiting figs. In rushes at the start, we had great looks at an Australian reed-warbler and also a paperbark flycatcher. Otherwise we wandered the shadowy coolness and listened to soft tinkles and other muted noises. Utterly Peaceful. We came out onto a slope that had these scribbly pure-white trunked eucalypts and against the red walls of the valley, it was quite breathtaking. Later in the day we came on the red-breasted form of the grey-crowned babblers busily foraging. Good views. We'd heard, and some had seen a channel-billed cuckoo fly over. It did it again later, and everyone saw it. Very satisfying.
That night at the showers I picked up someone else's towel, he must have put it over mine. Anyways, I picked everything up, and leisurely walked back to my tent. I was talking to Ben when I heard a patter of feet and someone asked if I had taken his towel. I said I didn't think so, but I found that I had two towels. I told him I had a towel fetish. He smiled weakly, snatched the towel, and walked quickly backwards into the dark. Thus ended my collection of towels.
That evening, going back to Adele's we came on red-winged parrots in a bare tree, the sun highlighting the crimson wings and the soft Irish green. A perfect picture. Just after that on another bare tree was a grouping of little wood swallows. A perfect picture of these dainty birds. A variegated male fairy wren was seen near home.
This time I did everything right, a sublime moment, not often seen. We did an hours birding before we left. Here were exquisite crimson finches, excellent views of long-tailed finches, there were yellow tinted, several grey-fronted, some white-gaped, and great views of the golden-backed form of the black-chinned honeyeaters. Superb views of all birds, as well as an olive-backed oriole, and a Northern fantail.
Leaving Adele's the next stop was Louie Creek. After crossing the creek we turned right, driving to a memorial stone to Sam and Opal Ah Bow, a pair of Chinese market gardeners. Three bustards were seen, and a collared sparrowhawk. I flushed a quail in long grass, it buzzed off rapidly, but by the markings and talking to Ben, I plumped for Little Button quail. Walking the usual tree and pandanus lined creek, we saw an azure kingfisher, a little pied cormorant panicked down stream, and Paperbark flycatchers were very common. We came to a group of flowering eucalyptus, and somehow Ben saw a movement and whispered "Northern Rosella" At first I couldn't see anything, but then got a black cap. By this time Ben had gotten the scope on it and we had marvellous views. The black caps and white cheeks were easily seen. Good bird, a new one. Again we saw the contorted white branches and trunks, the dark green leaves, etched against the sky and red cliffs behind. These are some of the most beautiful Eucalypts I've ever seen. They resembled the ones you see in paintings of central Australia. A huge Wedge-tailed eagle was seen on the way to Riversleigh fossil site. We did not stop long at the fossil site. Had a short look at the interpretative centre, dashed up the track to see one of big bird's bones. I had a short look at the toilet. It was like a cool rock cave, I didn't stay long as I didn't want to meet big bird. It had that feeling.
We stopped for a feed, supplied by Adele's who pack lunches while you're staying there. It was by the main causeway on the Gregory, and a very attractive area. Tall melaleucas, and pandanus, which grows on all streams up here, green rushes, flowering eucalypts. I went up the road a few hundred yards, and came to a watering place for birds. A Willie Wagtail was flirting around the water's edge. A party of purple-crowned fairy wrens passed by. I was standing there minding my own business, when onto a hanging vine just in front of me there landed a very officious crimson finch. If crimson finches could glare, it was doing so big time. In sharp abrupt notes it was telling me something. What he was actually saying was "you're standing in the place I want to come down to drink at. Get out of the way!" Soon as I stepped back and away, it came down to the exact spot I was standing on. Now there was a bird with gumption. Soon after the bully left a couple of masked finches came in. To my delight they were the brown-eared or western form. They dithered for a while, then left. Mark and Ben saw them fly off. A grey shrike-thrush serenaded. Nearby long-tailed and double barred finches flitted about or fed on the ground. Mark had good views of varied lorikeets with the scope.
Stopping at the O'Shannassy we watched long-tailed, zebra and double-barred finches drinking opposite us, on the causeway. There was a continuous coming and going, a jostling and arguing. I think a lot was being said. Later we saw a Jacky Winter. There ware views of crimson chats at every stop. Mark got another singing honeyeater, which he studied minutely and found also that it couldn't sing. A lone black-necked stork stood gloomily in a roadside pool. On past Thorntonia where we came across a hundred plus common corellas feeding in a paddock. On this road across to Mt Isa we saw many red termite mounds shaped like squat, bulbous gnomes, overfed and ready for exercise. Turning Left onto the Yelvertoft road Ben saw abut seven ground cuckoo-shrikes feeding on the ground. It was very open country here, dotted with patches of Spinifex and stunted trees. By the time Mark and I got to where Ben was the birds were flying. Again, good views of the silvery-grey birds with black wings and tail. Had quite a long flight view.
We turned into the famous McNamara road. Ben and Mark had good views of the black-tailed treecreeper. I never saw a movement. I think I was in a black hole syndrome, lots of things going in, nothing coming out. Oh! I forgot we were looking for the Carpentarian Grass Wren. Just out of Mt Isa we suddenly came onto some cattle, and there was a calf in the middle of the road. Ben slowed right down and in the end still gave it a nudge. Any other driver and there probably would have been a dead calf. We arrived at the Inland Oasis and had one of many steaks. You should have seen the meals, huge piles of chips on huge steaks and vegies. The waitress was trembling at the knees by the time she reached our table, and had to do deep breathing exercises before she could bring the next one. I watched state of origin with Ben that night.
This was the day we were going for the Kalkadoon Grass Wren. We had breakfast at 6:30, and headed out to Sybella Creek. We slogged up an arid creek bed, many more small sandy streams joining it. There were small Spinifex covered hills and rocky outcrops. Eucalypts lined the waterless riverbed. A spotted bowerbird called. Everything was very still, but it wasn't hot. Ahead there appeared a fairly high steep hill with Spinifex right up to rocks that formed a castle formation at the top. Before that we had a great red-backed kingfisher, and at the bottom of the hill just after we left the dry creek bed, we disturbed a party of Painted finches. They had flushed and landed ahead of us. I managed to get a great view of a male. Outstanding bird, the red face, black underparts and those white dots. Heaven.
We hit the slope, Ben gaily tripped lightly up the slope, no trouble at all. I soon found the big rocks, the slippery shale, and sharp spinifex spines a sharp lesson in balancing. If you lost your balance all you had was Spinifex to hold onto. In places I was bent double stretching from rock to rock. Mark was doing pretty well, and was not far behind Ben. Up ahead, Ben saw movement, a small bird hopping around in some low shrubs. They turned out to be a party of variegated wrens. We had a short rest then began to scramble around to the other side of the castle. We eventually arrived at the spot Ben had seen them before. We sat there for twenty minutes or so. During that time, parties of weebills passed through; there were small trees where we were. A wedge-tailed Eagle inspected us, and continued to circle the castle. A brown falcon landed above us and the wedgetail didn't seem to like it there. It ended up driving the falcon away.
Ben decided to move just a bit further around the hill and we once again settled down. He played the tape twice I think. Suddenly there was a movement below us and there it was. It was very curious and rapidly skipped and hopped from rock to rock. It was a male Kalkadoon Grass Wren. We had perfect views of the dusky striations on the breast, and the brown overall and grey belly. It did the circle twice, maybe three times and we were continually, surely we weren't, yelling with excitement. Eventually it moved away some distance, and began preening and singing. You could see the thin bill moving, and then it was over. While we were up on the hill, a spiny-cheeked honeyeater was seen below. The only one for the trip. The grass-wren was an exciting bird. I think it was a great relief to Ben that we saw it so well.
We went straight down the hill to the riverbed. There were varied lorikeets and Jacky Winters hawking insects. Shortly we came on a group of black-tailed treecreepers. This time I managed to see them well, both male and female. I got the striations on the throat of the male, and the whitish throat of the female. At the time, we were looking at the treecreepers Ben noticed a black falcon overhead, had good views of the underwing pattern. Also at the same place Ben and I managed to get views of a red-browed pardalote. Mark missed out I think. Near the car we heard the calls of Australian Ringneck parrots, the cloncurry race. We found a pair inspecting a hole in a eucalyptus tree, could be nesting time. Ben got quite good shots of them. Back at the car, a Spotted Bowerbird flew in. I didn't see it well, Ben and Mark did.
We went to a very large built up dam. We were met by a lot of curious, but interested, stares, and the occasional inquiring moo. There was a windmill and a house in the distance. We climbed the dam wall and on the far side saw a congregation of Black-tailed native hens feeding, a few more were swimming. There were also some black swans, and Great crested grebes and red-kneed dotterels and the usual hangers on.
That afternoon to the sewerage settling ponds. The first pond to the left had one very good hoary-headed Grebe and lots of Australian Grebes. The one to the right had zebra ducks (pink-eared) by the hundreds as well as grey teal, the usual pacific black duck, some hardheads. Australian wood ducks preened at the water's edge. There were numbers of immaculate red-kneed dotterels and black-fronted dotterels. I was excited to see three red-necked avocets fly in, as I hadn't seen them for some time. In the back pools there were about sixteen more, also a flock of black-tailed native hen. A swamp harrier stood peacefully on a high bank. I heard a restless flycatcher, the first scissoring that went on and on for ages. I knew that call from the farm down south. Of course when we came up it went back to the usual paperbark flycatcher, and we didn't have good looks at it, but I know that call!
Next stop was Lake Moondarra that supplies water for Mt Isa. Here we saw flocks of crimson chats feeding in the grass. Some birds, especially one, were colouring up nicely. Pelicans in the distance. I thought I saw a bush stone-curlew, couldn't find it, so apparently I didn't. I got a paperbark flycatcher in a tree close to where we parked. Then went around to a lookout, where we chased a spotted bowerbird, not getting very good views.
After that to Warrina Park, later afternoon by now. Great little park, playground for kids, plenty of shady trees, and peacocks everywhere. We went over to a creek, just outside the park. Lots of melaleucas, in which we disturbed a nankeen night heron. Outside the park entrance a rowdy group of Grey-crowned babblers welcomed us, still the red-fronted race. We entered the park, walking down to the far end to where large numbers of varied lorikeets were bedding down. The racket could be heard back in Mt Isa, a Slight exaggeration I suppose. Talk about unruly argumentative birds. We also saw a turtle, and my cogger says it was a Northern Snapping Turtle. Just as well we didn't pick it up.
Somewhere when we were going somewhere else we saw parties of crimson chats, Ben stopped and we saw a party of crimson rumped chats fly across the road. Amongst them were four or five birds about the same size, but with yellow rumps. Could they have been orange chats or yellow-rumped thornbills? We will never know. Ben had seen an orange-rumped chat back at Georgetown, but came to the conclusion that it was a crimson chat. I had a strong feeling that those five birds were orange chats. Same size, same bouncing flights, but these birds the tails were paler, not the black, white-tipped tails of the other two birds. Wishful thinking will get me nowhere. The last stop was at a shallow swamp, where we saw another birder, who totally ignored us. Again crimson chats crept through the grass, the flashes of their crimson rumps sparked in the late setting sun. A few white plumed honeyeaters were coming down to bathe. Zebra finches were seen. Steak again that night.
This was the morning I thought the sun was rising in the west. Of course no-one believed me, strange looks were exchanged, and murmurings of disbelief. It was a marvellous sunset, sorry, sunrise, dark clouds turning gold as the sun jumped the horizon. This was to be spent looking for the Carpentarian Grasswren. As far as the Grasswren was concerned, it was a hypnotic sort of day. Hours of trudging through Spinifex that attacked with sharp spears. We looked in at five spots, spreading out and walking 0ver low ridges with stunted trees, following dry creeks, and falling down hollows. We drank huge quantities of water and generally enjoyed ourselves, sort of. We tried to be as silent as possible, and we were fairly good at the start of the day, but was the day wore on I'm afraid we became tired, and at the end we sounded like a herd of stampeding buffalo. Ben tirelessly played the tape, never giving up. If we had not been there he would have continued on into the sunset, never to be seen again. Weebills seemed to like the tape, they always enthusiastically replied. You could not creep up on anything silently. I tried, but there was the sound of gravel scraping, of leaves resulting, and twigs snapping. How anyone can tippee-toe is beyond me. My toes didn't tip far enough and I fell over. There were gaps in the Spinifex and you could take giant strides into the gap, after the gap, into anther gap, which gave you no time to see any Grasswrens. All very frustrating.
We did, however, see Spinifex birds. The first one sighted by Mark and Ben. Gave them great sighting. I didn't see it probably because I was looking somewhere else. The second sighting was of a brown bird, like a tawny grassbird, flying amongst some tall grass, Spinifex at the bottom of a dead tree. It ended up flying up to the dead branch, and perching. A wonderful view. There were two other sightings of seeing them diving into Spinifex. How do they do it and not get impaled? The other bird was the crested Bellbird. The first sighting by all of us was beside the road. It was hopping around under some bushes. The yellow eye and white face, and black. It was calling, the voice not coming from where it, the bird, was. Mark had another sighting later on. Jacky Winters were plentiful. There were also grey-headed Honeyeaters. Mark returned to Mt Isa for another steak. I for a change ordered homemade rissoles. I don't know who made them, but I think they were made out in the back shed, with whatever was handy. Ben was noncommittal about his pork chops.
I think I got up this morning, must have, as I had found myself in the van with the others, turning into Lake Corella and Clem Walton Park. There were common bronzewings coming in to drink, a bustard walking away. Heard and saw another restless flycatcher, its strange scissoring went on for a long time, larger bird, more greyish on the back. Out on the lake itself were great crested Grebes and Australian Grebes, all four species of cormorant were seen here: Great cormorant, Little black, Pied and Little Pied, the only time all four were seen on trip. A yellow billed spoonbill was another first for the trip. At Walton Park there were the usual White-plumed honeyeaters and numbers of brown and singing honeyeaters. The water here was quickly disappearing under some weed. In one open patch of water a lone Australasian Grebe preened. A little pied cormorant sped by. Ben took a shot of a white-faced heron, and a pair of varied lorikeets inspecting a hole. He also tried his camera on a spotted bowerbird, and an accommodating sacred kingfisher. At Chinaman's Creek Dam, this is perhaps the water supply for Cloncurry, Brolgas on the far side. Zebra finches flicked in to drink, and again the ground was covered with the red spots of crimson chats. I would really like to see a full coloured bird.
We passed through Cloncurry, and eleven Kms further on turned on to the Landsborugh Road to McKinley. As far as I knew we had lunch and continued into the long, never-ending plains that stretched for endless, mindless miles. I never knew that fences could be so interesting. There were single stunted trees, scattered here and there, occasionally an odd dam with some bushes. Hardly saw a homestead. Sometimes there were some sheep or cattle or some black-faced wood swallows, an occasional pipit. Was it just outside McKinley that we came upon low, flat-topped hills, dotted with green bushes, there was a single one resembling a castle or a Khyber Pass guardhouse, but after that nothing. Only the clouds rushing towards the flat horizon to meet the dried pastures or bare earth. Ben had the traffic to contend with. You really got the feelingof nothingness.
Eventually we came to the Combo waterhole, turning right at the sign post. Combo waterhole is a whole series of waterholes, or so it seemed to me. We were eagerly greeted by many small black flies. Soon the Australian wave was in use, continuously. There were plenty of galahs shrieking around the trees. A pair of brolgas stepped out close by. Crested pigeons flew around. There were White-plumed honeyeaters and some yellow-throated miners. Up the end of the first waterhole, we disturbed a group of pigeons. We stalked them, finally getting good views of Spinifex Pigeons. I didn't see any Spinifex out this way. Going back we crossed a roughly paved causeway. There was a single black-tailed native hen poking about. In the grassy clearing on a tree we had great looks at a hobby. On the way in Mark had seen a pair of banded lapwings, but he didn't realise what they were for a few minutes. By the time he mentioned it we were at the waterhole, so on the way out we eagerly searched for them. Just abut where Mark had seen there, there they were. They stood with their backs to us, and were hard to see. When they flew we got the wide white bands on the wings. A very attractive bird.
Going into Winton, it was sheep and cattle country again, but with miles of mallee type trees and spiky clumps of grass. We saw a few bustards, some Emus, and now and again some red kangaroos. Usually a grey mother and young. I don't remember seeing a big red male at any time. We had seen earlier in the trip agile wallabies, more red kangaroos, no males, and two sightings of wallaroos. Pulled into Hughenden about 7 pm. We had a shower while Ben got a Chinese meal. Had it in our room. Quite good.
We left rested from the Rest Easi Motel. The first stop of the morning was the Porcupine Gorge N.P. We walked to the lookout and stared down into the depths of the gorge, rock pools glinting in the sun far below. I felt tired just looking down. We met two tough, fit, ornery women. I'd hate to get into a fight with them. They were just going to do a walk to the bottom. When they smiled I stepped back in alarm. Apostlebirds argued through the scrub, and threw tantrums when they saw us. We must have seen hundreds on the trip. Despite their loud and lurid conversations they are lovable birds and born comedians.
We came to a large tree by the road and Ben stopped. On the ground were a lot of white-browed woodswallows feeding on seed or insects. All the sexes were there, the very dark plumaged males with those large white overgrown eyebrows, the more modestly clothed females, and the rough and ready immature. Yellow-throated miners, not many, joined in the celebration, and crested pigeons quick stepping over the ground, sometimes bobbing to each other. A single masked wood swallow was noticed. A good bird. Pale-headed rosellas were eating in low bushes or resting in the trees. All these birds were there one moment, the next there was nothing. They had all disappeared. A lone bustard flew west, or was it east, no matter.
A bit further on we came upon a large flock of red-tailed black cockatoos. We stopped and watched, listening to their plaintive calls. The red flashes, when the males rose to fly short distances, were startling. They sat in the trees nuzzling one another. The birds were slowly moving away from us through the grass. Birds were continually flying. There were heads bobbing above the grass. Just continual movement and the calls. Ben tried to take some pictures. Somewhere quite further on we saw a pale Brown Falcon, and came upon six cockatiels on a bare tree. About 11:30 we crossed Bundock Creek. I heard a bowerbird call, and said spotted without thinking. When the bird finally came into view, I still thought spotted and said so to Mark and Ben. But then I had a better view and heard it call. It dawned on me that it was the Great Bowerbird. Mark said he saw a yellow-throated miner, which turned into a noisy miner. We had crossed back into our familiar territory. White-throated honeyeaters called once again, rainbow lorikeets became common.
We lunched at the Lynd, the usual yummy hamburger. Stopped at the 40 mile scrub once again. Then trying not to ram the road trains, we continued over the Atherton Tablelands and got into Cairns at around 5 pm.
I must say that I enjoyed every moment of this trip. Every place we stayed at was comfortable for our need. No troubles anywhere. I'll do it again, and this time get the Carpentarian Grasswren. And best of all I enjoyed Ben's guiding and Marks friendship.
John Crowhurst.
The Birders
Red-kneed Dotterel
Black-fronted Dotterel
Cockatiel
Sacred Kingfisher
Lawn Hill
Spotted Bowerbird
Varied Lorikeet
Australian Ringneck
Spinifex Pigeon
Spinifex Pigeon
Red Tails
Little Woodswallow
Varied Lorikeet
Long-tailed Finch
White-faced Heron
Red-backed Kingfisher
