Tag: Birds

Funny Facts About Brown Quail

• The “Hop-and-Sprint” Dance. Brown Quails don’t really fly much—they prefer to “run” for cover. But when they do decide to take to the air, it’s more of a comical, short burst of flight. Imagine a chicken trying to take off—it’s more of a “hop-and-sprint” move than a graceful glide. Yet, despite their awkward takeoff, they can cover quite a distance in that short burst.
• Master of the Stealth Mode. These quails have perfected the art of stealth. When threatened, they will often freeze in place, blending seamlessly into the undergrowth, almost like they’ve mastered the ninja technique of “if I can’t see you, you can’t see me.” It’s uncanny how well they can hide in plain sight. You might think they’re just a pile of leaves until one suddenly hops up with a “surprise, I’ve been here all along!” moment.
• Social Media Stars in the Making. If Brown Quails had Instagram, their feed would be full of selfies from the grass. They’re very social birds and love to hang out in groups, often interacting with each other like a quirky, little bird gang. You might catch them in the wild, huddling together in a “circle of trust” or squabbling over snacks like they’re competing for the last chip at a party.
• The “Peekaboo” Master. Brown Quails love to play peekaboo. Their heads bobbing up and down over small mounds or tall grass is like the bird version of playing hide-and-seek. If you’re lucky enough to catch one of these curious little creatures peering out at you, it feels like you’re the subject of their secret wildlife game.

The Elusive Quail

Photographing quails is no easy task. These birds are masters of stealth—rarely flying, and instead quietly moving through dense vegetation, almost invisible to the eye. If they spot you first, they freeze in place, blending seamlessly into their surroundings and making them incredibly hard to detect. More often than not, they explode into flight from right under my feet just as I’m about to step on them. After a short, noisy burst through the air, they land again and vanish into the grass, sprinting away before I can even raise my camera.

Missed Shots and Blurry Backsides

Capturing photos of quails—especially the rarer species—often comes down to instinct, luck, and a bit of pre-planning. My usual method involves pre-focusing about 20 metres ahead and firing from the hip the moment they flush. As you might imagine, this approach typically results in shots of blurry backsides disappearing into the distance. Not exactly a gallery-worthy result—but sometimes it’s all you get.

They Came to Me

But on the day I captured the following images, something truly special happened. I first spotted a small group of Brown Quails wandering toward me from about 50 metres away. Without hesitation, I dropped to the ground, hoping to become just another lump in the landscape. To my amazement, the quails kept coming. They were busy doing their little bird business—picking at the ground, socialising, and seemingly unaware of my presence.

Hidden in Plain Sight

Lying there, completely still, I found myself with a front-row seat to their natural world. They interacted with each other calmly and casually, behaving as if I wasn’t there at all. It was the kind of moment every wildlife photographer hopes for—when your presence goes unnoticed, and the animals simply live their lives around you.

Quail Romance Unfolds

Then, something even more extraordinary happened. One of the males fluffed up his feathers and began a hilarious little performance—stomping rapidly in place and inching his way toward a nearby female. His antics were accompanied by soft, rhythmic calls. It was a Brown Quail’s mating display, and I was lucky enough to witness it from just metres away.

The image below captures the moment: a fluffed-up, determined male in the foreground, with the outline of the unimpressed female watching from the background. A quirky, rare scene from the secret lives of these shy birds.

Just Out of Focus

But the encounter didn’t end there. The group continued its slow, deliberate march toward me until they were only about 10 metres away… and still coming. Eventually, they wandered so close they were inside the minimum focusing distance of my lens—just four metres. At that point, I couldn’t shoot anymore without backing up, which I didn’t want to risk.

So I did the only thing that felt right—I slowly lowered my camera and watched.

Eye to Eye with Quails

By now, the birds had clearly noticed me. But instead of panicking, they did something completely unexpected—they climbed a small rise just in front of me and started peering at me with their quirky little heads. One by one, they popped up over the mound, tilting their heads side to side with what looked like genuine curiosity.

I nearly laughed out loud. The situation was so surreal, I even found myself gently nudging my lens forward, trying to coax them back into focus range—like that would work! But the quails had other plans.

Gone Like Ghosts

After a brief but thoughtful inspection of the strange human in the grass, the little family turned and sprinted off into the vegetation with astonishing speed and precision. In the blink of an eye, they were gone—vanished back into the wild as quickly as they had appeared.

A Memory to Keep Forever

Moments like these are what make wildlife photography so endlessly rewarding. It’s not always about the perfect photo. Sometimes, it’s about the connection—the shared moment, however brief, between you and the animal. This encounter is now one of those treasured memories I’ll carry with me forever.

Your Turn!

Have you ever had a surprising or magical wildlife encounter like this? I’d love to hear your stories—feel free to share them in the comments below!

🎨 Painted by Nature

The name painted finch is no exaggeration — the males look like they’ve been hand-painted, with crimson red splashes on the face, chest, and rump, contrasting dramatically against their black-and-white spotted body. Even their beak is a striking red.

🌵 Desert Survivors

Painted finches thrive in harsh environments, particularly Australia’s central and northwestern deserts. They’re commonly found near rocky outcrops, spinifex grasslands, and dry creek beds — always close to a source of water.

👂 Hard to Hear

Their call is a soft, high-pitched tsee-tsee that can be incredibly hard to detect in the wild, especially with desert winds and background noise. This quiet nature often makes them difficult to locate, even when nearby.

🐣 Tiny but Tough

Despite their delicate appearance, painted finches are tough little birds. They feed mostly on grass seeds and can survive on very little water, extracting moisture from their food and visiting water sources only occasionally.

👨‍👩‍👧‍👦Loyal Pairs

They usually form monogamous pairs and can be seen foraging or drinking together. Breeding is often timed after rainfall when seed abundance is high. Both sexes help build the nest, and both share incubation duties.

🏡 Architects of the Outback

Their nests are built low in shrubs or grasses, made of fine twigs and grass stems, and often lined with feathers. Interestingly, they sometimes use old zebra finch nests or build their own close to zebra finch colonies.

🧬 A Finch With Many Names

Besides “painted finch,” they’re sometimes referred to as “painted firetail” — a nod to their brilliant red rump. Their scientific name Emblema pictum literally means “painted emblem.”

📉 Not (Yet) Endangered

While their habitat is remote and relatively undisturbed, their dependence on water sources and grass seed means they’re vulnerable to changes in fire regimes, grazing pressure, and climate variability.

📷 A Photographer’s Dream — and Nightmare

Their stunning plumage makes them highly sought-after by bird photographers. But their shy behavior, quiet call, and tendency to hide in dense grass make them one of the more challenging subjects in the outback.

My Story

Ever since I first set foot in the Tanami Desert, I knew there was a chance — however slim — to encounter the elusive painted finch (Emblema pictum). For a wildlife photographer, any bird with a touch of red is an automatic invitation to frame. But painted finches? These birds don’t just have a touch. They are so vividly patterned — crimson splashed across jet black and earthy browns — that the first time you see one, it can feel almost unreal. Like a child’s drawing that somehow came to life. Or as I often say, they’re so colorful it might just make your eyes bleed.But knowing a bird exists and actually finding it are two very different things — especially in the vastness of central Australia. It took nearly a year before I had my first real encounter. Ironically, it wasn’t even in person.

A Ghost in Pixels

It was my trail camera that first picked one up — a fleeting glimpse in the corner of a frame. That image changed everything. I finally had a clue: a general area, a pattern, a hope. Still, unlike zebra finches, which flock in dozens and fill the desert air with their constant chatter, painted finches are subtle. Solitary. Quiet.

Their call is a soft, high-pitched whisper — almost impossible to pick out against the ever-present drone of the desert wind. And they move low in the grasses, blending perfectly into the ochres and silvers of the landscape.

The First Photograph

One morning, while checking a waterhole, I caught sight of them — a pair, just briefly, drinking alongside some diamond doves. The male vanished almost immediately into the spinifex. I was left with only a single shot of the female. But even she, in her muted tones, made my eyes twitch. Painted finches truly are striking, even when they’re not wearing their Sunday best.That single image carried me through the next few months. I kept returning, kept scanning the low bushes, kept listening for whispers in the wind.

A Desert Reward

Then, one morning just before sunrise, it happened. A pair of male painted finches — one adult, one juvenile — appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. The golden hour light had just begun to warm the red sands, and for a few precious minutes, everything lined up. The juvenile bird posed, still for just long enough for me to get the shot. His feathers catching that soft dawn light, red face vibrant against the blue-grey desert background.

Below is that photo — the only clear image I have so far of an adult male painted finch. A perfect mix of fresh plumage and curiosity, captured just as the desert was waking up.

The adult male, of course, was less cooperative. He dodged the lens with precision honed by a lifetime in the desert. I didn’t get the perfect pose from him — not yet. But that’s the way it goes. The desert never gives up all its secrets at once.

Still Hunting

And so, the hunt continues. For the perfect pose. For the perfect light. For another chance to witness these desert jewels in their element. Painted finches don’t come easy — but maybe that’s exactly why they’re so rewarding when they do.