Category: Birds

  • The Master Builders of the Bush: My Encounters with Great Bowerbirds

    The Master Builders of the Bush: My Encounters with Great Bowerbirds

    If you’ve ever wandered through the northern tropics of Australia—across Queensland, the Northern Territory, or Western Australia—you might stumble upon one of nature’s most fascinating architects: the Great Bowerbird. Despite their rather plain appearance at first glance, these birds are anything but ordinary.

    Male Great Bowerbirds are renowned for their extraordinary courtship behaviour. Instead of relying on feathers or song alone, they build and maintain complex structures known as bowers—not for nesting, but purely to impress a potential mate. These bowers, made from twigs and carefully arranged, are decorated with objects in colours the birds prefer—white, silver, and green being the favourites of this species. The dedication is remarkable: they spend weeks (sometimes months) perfecting their creation, constantly rearranging and replacing items, often stealing prized decorations from neighbouring bowers. It’s a game of constant one-upmanship in the bird world.

    And while it might not sound fair, once mating occurs, the female is left to handle nesting and chick-rearing alone. The male, on the other hand, stays committed to the performance—tending his bower, calling loudly, and hoping to impress another visitor.

    Here’s the cool twist:

    The male arranges these objects to create a forced perspective illusion—like a visual trick! He places smaller objects closer to the entrance and larger ones farther away, making the path look more symmetrical and impressive from the female’s viewpoint. It’s one of the few known examples of non-human animals using perspective in visual displays.

    If the female is impressed? She mates with him. If not? She leaves—and he may rearrange things for the next try!

    Chasing Bowers: My Journey Begins

    Great Bowerbirds don’t occur where I live, so observing them in the wild meant venturing into the heart of their territory. My first encounter with a bower was purely accidental. I spotted a strange pile of twigs littered with green and white objects—it looked like a mess at first glance, but something about it caught my eye. Then I saw the bird.

    That was the beginning of a six-month-long photographic adventure.

    From there, I began to find more and more bowers—some clearly abandoned, some full of activity. While they’re relatively easy to locate thanks to the males’ loud and persistent calls during mating season, photographing them proved far more challenging. Most bowers are cleverly hidden under dense bushes, shielded from predators—and, inconveniently, from camera lenses.

    To give you an idea of what the bower is, the materials collected, and how they’re arranged, take a look at some photos below.

    To be honest, I’m not sure what materials birds collected before human influence, but nowadays they mostly gather items produced by humans—such as chalk, beer can tabs, styrofoam, and various plastic bits and pieces.

    An Ideal Observation Spot

    One day I got lucky. One particular bower I found was not only active but perfectly positioned. It had a clear view from one side and was oriented with its “gate” facing the sun—ideal for natural lighting. I returned to this spot over and over, quietly watching as the male brought in fresh decorations, rearranged key items, and performed elaborate displays.

    Moments Captured Through the Lens

    Below is one of my favourite images from this journey—a male perched low with a green seed in his beak, clearly about to place it carefully within the bower. Such a small object, but of great significance.

    Another photo shows a male repositioning a piece of silver foil. These aren’t just random objects; they are part of a carefully curated selection. Over time, I noticed something fascinating: young males seem to favour white items, but as they age, their bowers begin to include more green. Perhaps a sign of growing maturity—or refined taste.

    One particularly striking image shows a male walking proudly through the heart of his bower, doing a bit of housekeeping. These birds are meticulous.

    A Surprise Encounter

    One day, while crawling silently through the underbrush toward a newly discovered bower, I accidentally crunched some dry leaf litter. Moments later, a male appeared, fluffing his head feathers and clutching a leaf—clearly part of his display. He strode straight toward me, bold and fearless. I didn’t even have time to zoom out. What I captured were tight portraits—close-ups of his display feathers, radiant in hues of purple normally hidden. They reminded me of the vivid colours of sea anemones—a brilliant, fleeting glimpse of nature’s drama.

    The Curious Case of the Green Bin Handle

    Another day brought a story that still makes me smile. I found a bower featuring a green plastic handle from a wheelie bin lid placed proudly right in the centre. It was clearly the bird’s most treasured item. But the next day, it was gone. Someone—some bird—had stolen it.

    A few days later, I discovered the same handle at another bower over 500 metres away. Wanting to make things right, I returned it to the original bower. That night, I couldn’t sleep. What if I’d given it to the wrong bird?

    Luckily, the bush provided a solution. I came across a broken bin nearby, with another loose handle. This time, I placed it near the second bower. The following day, it had been moved into the bower’s centre. My offering was accepted. I like to think both birds got to keep their prize in the end.

    A Remarkable Reset: Witnessing the Resilience of Bowerbirds

    After taking a break from the field, I returned to revisit the same bower I had observed weeks earlier — the one perfectly oriented to catch the sun’s rays just right. To my surprise, the entire structure had been rotated by 90 degrees. It was clear the original had been completely destroyed and then rebuilt from scratch. Witnessing this remarkable reset was a powerful reminder of the resilience and adaptability of these incredible birds. Nature’s creativity truly never ceases to amaze.

    Final Thoughts

    Australia is home to ten species of bowerbirds, each with their own quirks and decorating preferences. Some don’t maintain their bowers year-round, making them much harder to find, but I’m determined to photograph them all. The more time I spend out bush, the more I discover—and the more stories I have to share.

    This experience with the Great Bowerbirds has been a highlight in my journey as a wildlife photographer. These birds are not just clever—they’re creative, competitive, and captivating.

    I’ll be dedicating future blog entries to other bowerbird species as I encounter them, so stay tuned. If you enjoyed this read, make sure to check back, and feel free to reach out or share your own stories in the comments.

    Until then—happy birding.

  • Looking Back: My Favourite Bird Photos from 2019

    Looking Back: My Favourite Bird Photos from 2019

    2019 feels like a lifetime ago, yet it remains one of my most rewarding years as a nature photographer. I was fortunate to travel for work—and with my camera always by my side, I found myself in the right place at the right time, more than once.

    From the wild beaches of Tasmania to the towering rainforests of Papua New Guinea, here are some highlights from that unforgettable year—images that stir strong memories, capture rare moments, and tell stories I’ll never forget.

    Tasmania Adventures – Calm, Coastal, and Close-Up

    Hooded Plover – Up Close with the Endangered

    In parts of mainland Australia, Hooded Plovers are endangered and notoriously hard to find. But in Tasmania—especially along its vast, untouched beaches—they were more common, yet just as captivating.

    I spent hours lying in the sand, camera ready, letting one bird get used to my presence. Eventually, curiosity got the better of it, and it wandered right up to me. A calm, intimate moment—exactly the kind I always hope to capture.

    Black Swan – A Peaceful Encounter in Margate

    Another memorable Tasmanian moment came in the quiet bays near Margate, where I spotted a Black Swan gliding through still water. Though the species is widespread, the setting and lighting made this image special to me—serene, minimal, and reflective in more ways than one.

    Northward Bound – Photographing Papua New Guinea

    After my time in Tasmania, I headed north to Papua New Guinea—and entered an entirely different world of birdlife. Towering trees, elusive species, and thick rainforest made every photo a challenge… and a thrill.

    Red-flanked Lorikeets – A One-Time Opportunity

    These colourful birds were not uncommon in PNG, but they almost always perched at the tops of the tallest trees—and believe me, the trees in PNG are tall! That made them difficult to photograph, until one lucky day when I found two lorikeets checking out a probable nest site at eye level. It was a rare opportunity—one I was never given again.

    This particular photo even inspired an artist to create a beautiful watercolour painting based on the scene. Moments like these remind me why I always carry my camera.

    Knob-billed Fruit Dove – A World-Class Find

    Now, this one truly was special. The Knob-billed Fruit Dove is so rarely seen that even Wikipedia uses an illustration for its species page. When I uploaded my photo to eBird, they chose it as the preview image for the species (they had to mirror it, of course, as eBird requires all birds to face right).
    You can see it here.

    At the time of my upload, I was one of only ten people in the world who had managed to photograph this elusive bird. It’s easily one of the rarest captures of my career.

    Common Kingfisher – Not So Common After All

    Although it’s common in Europe, seeing a Common Kingfisher in PNG was a dream come true for an Australian photographer like me. It took several weeks of careful tracking before I was able to snap this image. The bird foraged along the beach and was incredibly wary—there was no way to approach it directly.

    Eventually, I managed to sneak up slowly and capture a few precious frames. A challenging but incredibly rewarding experience.

    Closer to Home – Birds Around My Local Area

    Not all great photos come from remote adventures. Some of my favourite captures from 2019 were taken close to home.

    Crested Pigeon – The Rain-Soaked Park

    This Crested Pigeon was resting peacefully in one of my local parks. Recent rain had soaked the background in vibrant greens and saturated colours, giving the image a lush, painterly feel. The bird was relaxed and comfortable with my presence—it almost felt like I was part of the family for the day.

    Striated Heron – Focused and Fierce

    This final image is of a Striated Heron, totally focused on tracking fish from its perch. Its claws are tightly wrapped, muscles tense, and the messy background adds a sense of mystery and intensity to the scene. It was even chosen as Photo of the Day on eBird—a nice honour for a moment that I remember vividly.

    The Hard Lesson

    I was planning to include more photos in this post, but as I was going through my hard drive… it decided to pack it in. I’m still hopeful that the images aren’t lost and can be recovered, but if there’s one takeaway—it’s the importance of backing up your photos. A lesson learned the hard way.

    I’d love to hear which photo or story resonated with you the most. Let me know in the comments below—and thank you for taking the time to revisit 2019 with me.

  • Fleeting Moments: Photographing Zebra Finches in the Aussie Outback

    Fleeting Moments: Photographing Zebra Finches in the Aussie Outback

    Interesting Facts

    Small in size but big in personality, the Zebra Finch (Taeniopygia guttata) is one of Australia’s most iconic and well-studied birds. Native to the arid and semi-arid regions of the mainland, these lively little finches are instantly recognisable by their striking black-and-white striped throats, orange cheeks (in males), and cheerful chirping calls. Despite their delicate appearance, Zebra Finches are remarkably resilient, thriving in some of the harshest environments on the continent. They’re also famous in the scientific world for their role in research on vocal learning — much like humans, young male Zebra Finches learn to sing by mimicking older males, making them a fascinating subject in both the wild and the lab. Whether flitting through the spinifex or perched on a fence wire, they’re a charming sight and a delight to photograph.

    Behaviour Insights

    Zebra Finches are social, active birds that live in flocks and rarely stray far from one another. Their social structure and constant communication make them an engaging subject for photographers who enjoy capturing interaction and movement. You’ll often spot them foraging on the ground in small groups, hopping about in search of seeds — their primary diet in the wild.

    One of the most fascinating behaviours to observe is their complex courtship rituals. Males puff out their chests, bob up and down, and sing intricate songs to impress potential mates. These displays often include fluttering dances and offering bits of nesting material. Once paired, Zebra Finches form strong monogamous bonds and are known for their cooperative nesting efforts. Both parents share incubation duties and take turns feeding their chicks — a lovely dynamic to photograph if you’re lucky enough to find an active nest.

    Another notable trait is their adaptability. Zebra Finches have a remarkable tolerance for heat and can survive extended dry periods, making them a symbol of resilience in the Australian outback. Their ability to breed opportunistically — often within days of rainfall — allows them to take advantage of brief resource-rich windows, even in seemingly barren landscapes.

    Habitat and Range

    In the wild, Zebra Finches are widespread across mainland Australia, particularly in inland and semi-arid zones. They prefer open grasslands, scrublands, and savannahs, often near water sources, but are just as likely to be found in agricultural areas, roadside verges, and even urban fringes. Their adaptability to different environments makes them one of the most successful native bird species on the continent.

    While they aren’t typically found in the dense coastal forests or tropical far north, they thrive in dry habitats where spinifex grass, acacias, and scattered eucalyptus trees provide food and shelter. Nests are usually built in shrubs, low trees, or even man-made structures such as fence posts and sheds. Their use of artificial habitats has contributed to their range expanding in some regions.

    For photographers, early morning and late afternoon are ideal times to spot Zebra Finches when they’re most active and lighting is soft. Look for them around waterholes or perched on low branches, chirping energetically. Their fast, erratic flight and quick movements on the ground can be challenging to capture, but with patience and a good telephoto lens, they make for delightful photographic subjects.

    When Finches Allow a Closer Look

    Photographing Zebra Finches is never as simple as just pointing the lens and clicking away. These tiny, energetic birds are constantly on the move, and while one might boldly perch in full view, the rest of the flock will be watching — always alert. The moment I get a little too close, they vanish into the nearest bush in a flash of wings and soft chatter. I’ve learnt over time that the best chance of approaching them is when they’re comfortable — either eating, preening, or singing. These are moments when they’re content, their happiness briefly outweighing the minor disturbance of a curious photographer edging closer. On the day I captured these shots, I found them early in the morning, gathered noisily near a waterhole, rehydrating after a hot desert night. It was an absolute joy to watch them arrive in flocks, jostling for position, fluttering about and pausing in beautiful poses. Their individual personalities shone through in the little dramas and quiet interactions between them. Below is a collection of my best images from that magical morning — a window into the fast-paced yet intricate world of the Zebra Finch.

  • Elusive Beauty in the Heart of Brisbane: A Close Encounter with the Lewin’s Rail

    Elusive Beauty in the Heart of Brisbane: A Close Encounter with the Lewin’s Rail

    The Lewin’s Rail (Lewinia pectoralis) is one of Australia’s most secretive wetland birds, often heard but rarely seen. These small, shy rails inhabit dense reed beds and swamps, typically venturing out only in the early morning or late evening. Their elusive nature makes them a sought-after species for many birders and wildlife photographers – a real prize sighting. Despite years of birdwatching, I had never laid eyes on one until now.

    Interesting Facts About Lewin’s Rail

    • Distinctive Call

    Despite being hard to spot, they have a loud, squealing or grunting call, often described as a “pig-like” squeal. This call is usually the first sign of their presence.

    • Habitat Specialists

    They prefer dense, swampy wetlands, especially reed beds, sedgelands, and freshwater marshes. They rely on thick vegetation for cover and rarely stray into the open.

    • Wide but Patchy Distribution

    Lewin’s Rails are found throughout eastern and southeastern Australia, with scattered populations in Tasmania, Victoria, New South Wales, Queensland, and parts of South Australia. There are also subspecies in New Guinea, the Philippines, and parts of Southeast Asia.

    • Small but Agile

    They’re small birds—typically around 20–30 cm in length—but move quickly through dense reeds and undergrowth, making them even harder to spot.

    • Named After a Naturalist

    The species is named after John Lewin, one of Australia’s first colonial artists and naturalists, who documented many native species in the early 19th century.

    • Extremely Secretive Nature

    Lewin’s Rails are incredibly shy and elusive. They’re more often heard than seen, making them a real challenge—and a prize—for birdwatchers and wildlife photographers.

    The opportunity to see the bird came thanks to a group of birders from Victoria who reported a Lewin’s Rail sighting on eBird. What followed was a flurry of observations, suggesting the bird had taken up a semi-regular presence in the area. A friend of mine, living nearby and closely tracking the exact location, tipped me off. The potential to photograph such a rare and shy bird was too good to pass up. Special thanks to Graham D for his keen eye and timely heads-up.

    Even more remarkable, this entire encounter took place right in the heart of Brisbane’s CBD. The experience was equal parts surreal, amusing, and unforgettable. Usually, when I photograph wildlife, the outside world fades away—just me and my subject, enveloped in the natural landscape. But this time, I was crouched beside an artificial pond, surrounded by concrete, steel, and glass, with the ever-present hum of city life vibrating in the background. If I’d turned my head, I would have seen towering skyscrapers framing the scene.

    To help paint the picture, I’ll be including two images below: one showing the surrounding skyline of skyscrapers, and another of the artificial pond itself—complete with pumped water that gives life to this small, urban pocket of habitat. It’s hard to believe such a secretive wetland bird would choose to appear in a place like this, but that’s part of what made the moment so special.

    I’ve never had a wildlife encounter amid such urban chaos. As soon as the cameras started clicking, curious passersby stopped in their tracks, trying to guess what mysterious creature had drawn our attention. It was a strange but fascinating collision of nature and civilisation.

    The wait for the bird to show was long, but certainly not wasted. We were rewarded with several brief yet clear views, and I managed to capture a handful of satisfying shots. You’ll find some of my best images below.

    Most importantly, I made some valuable connections with like-minded people who share the same passion for birds and photography. We’ve already started planning to collaborate—sharing experiences, tips, and ideas to help each other grow and improve the quality of our work. It’s always rewarding when a rare wildlife encounter not only results in great photos but also sparks new creative partnerships.

  • Swallows in Flight: A Wildlife Photographer’s Ultimate Challenge

    Swallows in Flight: A Wildlife Photographer’s Ultimate Challenge

    Few birds capture the spirit of freedom and precision quite like swallows. Sleek and nimble, these aerial acrobats are built for speed and endurance, with their slender bodies, forked tails and long, pointed wings. Swallows can cover vast distances during migration and are capable of feeding, drinking, and even sleeping mid-flight. In Australia, the swallows and martins are a familiar sight, often seen skimming low over fields and water, hunting insects on the wing with astonishing agility. But as elegant as they are to watch, they’re notoriously difficult to photograph—especially in flight.

    When I first picked up a camera, capturing a swallow mid-air quickly became a personal challenge. I remember asking a more experienced mate, somewhat in desperation, “How do you photograph a swallow in flight?” His reply, with a wry grin, was simply: “You don’t.” Ironically, he’d managed a decent shot of one in flight himself, which only stoked my determination. That was the moment this mission quietly began. Over the years, I’ve come to realise that the real difficulty in photographing swallows doesn’t lie solely with the camera gear—though even the most advanced autofocus systems can be pushed to their limits. The real test is a combination of factors: the gear, the autofocus speed, and most critically, the photographer’s own hand-to-eye coordination. Swallows are fast, agile, and unpredictable in flight, often changing direction in the blink of an eye. Keeping one in the viewfinder—especially when using a long telephoto lens—is no easy feat. In many ways, capturing a sharp, well-composed image of a swallow in mid-flight is the ultimate challenge for both the equipment and the person behind it.

    I tried my luck in freshly mown soccer fields, where small flocks of swallows would swoop for insects—unsuccessfully. I searched for locations where their flight might be more predictable, but again, without much joy. Then, five years into this quiet quest, I stumbled across a breakthrough: a drying puddle in the middle of a desert —the only source of water for kilometres. That afternoon, swallows descended in their hundreds to drink on the wing. I dropped flat on the ground, crossed my fingers, and hoped the sheer number of birds and the small size of the puddle might work in my favour. It did. Birds returned the next day as well, following the same pattern, and I finally got the shots I’d been chasing for half a decade.

    I’m sharing the results here with you, and with them, a friendly challenge: do you have a swallow-in-flight photo? If not, I can promise this—when you do get one, it’s immensely satisfying. Good luck out there!

  • From Chase to Connection: How Local Birds Redefined My Photography

    From Chase to Connection: How Local Birds Redefined My Photography

    When I first picked up a camera and started photographing wildlife—especially birds—I was obsessed with one thing: getting closer.

    It was all about filling the frame. I wanted to see every feather, every glint in the eye, every tiny detail that usually goes unnoticed. At first, it felt like a technical challenge—how close could I get without disturbing the bird? Could I use the longest lens possible, or outsmart the subject with patience, camouflage, or clever positioning? There was an undeniable thrill in it.

    Eventually, I started taking tight bird portraits—crisp, detailed shots where the subject dominated the frame. These moments felt like small victories. I remember the first time I captured a full-frame shot of a bird with perfect sharpness and catchlight in the eye. I was proud, even a little bit smug. I had gotten the shot.

    But over time, my priorities started to shift.

    Understanding the Language of Light

    Once I had some of these portraits under my belt, I began to notice something missing. The photos were technically solid, but sometimes they felt flat—lacking mood or atmosphere. That’s when I began to pay more attention to light, background, and composition beyond the subject.

    I realised that even the best lens couldn’t fix harsh midday light or a cluttered background. Some locations only worked in the soft hues of morning; others came alive in the golden glow of late afternoon. The angle of the light, the direction of the wind, and even the colour of the water or sky behind the bird—all of it mattered. I began scouting locations based on how the light interacted with the environment, not just where birds were most abundant.

    This shift was subtle at first, but profound. I stopped chasing just birds, and started chasing conditions. My photography became more intentional.

    The Role of Patience: More Than Just Focal Length

    As I became more experienced, I also discovered something about how we approach proximity in wildlife photography. Sure, you can get a 600mm lens, maybe even add a 1.4x or 2x converter, and get those tight portraits from a distance. And that certainly works—it’s how many professionals operate.

    But I also found another way: using a shorter lens, like a 400mm, and relying on patience instead of reach.

    When I began approaching birds slowly, respectfully, and without pressure—waiting for them to come to me or relax in my presence—it started to feel like something more. It wasn’t just about taking a photo anymore; it was about building trust. In those moments, I wasn’t just an observer—I felt like I was becoming part of their world, part of their family.

    This kind of closeness, built through time and presence rather than gear, made the final image feel more honest, more intimate. Once you master that skill, it expands naturally beyond birds—into mammals, reptiles, even insects. It’s a way of seeing, not just a way of shooting.

    The Search for the Rare—and the Lessons of Disappointment

    After photographing many of the local and familiar birds, my curiosity turned toward the more elusive species. I started planning trips, seeking out remote or specific habitats, tracking down birds I’d never seen before.

    But often, these long efforts didn’t result in great photographs. The birds didn’t show up. Or if they did, the lighting was poor, the background distracting, or the moment just didn’t materialise. I returned from many of these trips without a single keeper shot.

    It was disheartening. I began to ask myself: Why travel so far just to come back with nothing? That’s when I began to reconsider what I was really looking for with my camera.

    Rediscovering the Familiar

    After a few too many empty-handed journeys, I shifted focus again—this time back to the birds close to home. I decided to return to the local wetlands and bushland with a new perspective and greater intentionality.

    That’s when I started photographing ducks.

    Ducks are everywhere. I used to overlook them, assuming I’d already “gotten” those shots. But I hadn’t. Not really. One morning, I found myself watching a hardhead duck bathed in perfect light. I crouched down, framed it tightly, and clicked. That photo remains one of my favourites to this day.

    What started as an experiment quickly became a personal project. I began collecting duck portraits—each one crafted carefully, with attention to detail and emotion. Over time, I expanded this approach to other birds I’d previously overlooked: grebes, herons, moorhens, cormorants. I wasn’t just taking pictures anymore. I was telling quiet stories.

    Looking Ahead: Embracing the Environment

    Later in my photography journey, I began to move beyond just the bird itself. I started enjoying wider angles—photographing not only the subject but the environment it lives in. These images feel more narrative, more immersive. You don’t have to be extremely close to the bird, but the environment becomes more demanding. Light, habitat, background—all need to work in harmony.

    That’s a topic I’ll dive into more in the future posts. But for now, let’s enjoy these portraits of everyday birds—captured with patience, respect, and a deep appreciation for the wildlife that shares our local spaces.