Lifer Antarctic Tern

The Old Man and the Rainbow (photo by James Cornelious)

On 25 June, David Harper posted on Facebook about an Antarctic Tern or two being seen close to, or even on shore again in Port MacDonnell, South Australia. 

It is a bird that both James and I needed, but it is more of a happen-upon it bird than a twitchable bird. For several years, these terns have been sometimes seen close in to shore by Port MacDonnell pelagic birders when their offshore trips were cancelled because of strong southerly winds. The theory being that the birds are ‘blown’ in by the winds. However, there is also a point to be made that no birders are looking for them along the shore except when the pelagic trips are cancelled. Port MacDonnell is a very small seaside town without a lot of hard-core birders dropping by. And identifying terns can be hard-core birder stuff.

  

Me looking at the bird in the rain.

James finding the Antarctic Tern. It was about in the area where the rainbow ends

James was keen to go to Port Mac (as the cool kids call it) and have a look for these birds. I have been fortunate enough to have birded with some of the top birders in the world, including the big year record holders for both Australia and the USA, respectively, John Weigel and Neil Hayward. I have also birded with Kenn Kaufman, Richard Baxter, Rohan Clarke, Jeff Davies, Tony Pallister, Kevin Bartram and the late and truly great, Mike Carter to name drop only a few. And I will say that James Cornelious is one of the best birders I have ever birded with. He has excellent eyes and ears as well as a lot of knowledge. He is a better birder than I am and as good as anyone I have birded with.

I have come to understand that, although I will definitely bird hard, I am not exactly a hard-core, or more accurately an ornithological type of birder. I am far more of what some disdainfully refer to as a lister. I do want to know that I definitely saw a species of bird before I add it to my list, but I do not have to be the one who identified it. I only have to know for sure that the bird I saw was the specific bird. 

Identifying terns can wander into being hard-core birding and thus beyond my abilities. However, Antarctic Terns do a cool thing. In non-breeding plumage, they retain their red bill. It might be a bit more dull or whatnot, but it is red as are their legs.

Yes, it is in there somewhere. Thank heavens for the scope.

On Saturday 13 July James came down and spent the night, in the morning we drove over to Port MacDonnell. It’s an easy drive of about four and a half hours. We took the little car since we would not be camping. I had booked a cabin (they only have two) at the Port MacDonnell Foreshore Tourist Park. Adam, the manager was very nice and had allowed us to reserve Sunday and Monday nights without having to pay for them in advance, just if we used them. 

We arrived about 2pm and checked-in, put our stuff in the cabin, and then went birding. The hoped for southerly winds were still light but forecast to increase dramatically on Monday and especially Tuesday. We did not have a lot of expectations, but figured we’d go have a look.

After quick checks of the groin and the jetty with our bins, we drove to the boat ramp and down the little track beside it as far as it goes and parked there. James got my scope out and began scanning through the terns roosting far out on the rocks. I was standing behind him looking through some of the closer terns with my bins. After only about fifteen minutes James turned to me and said, “I’ve got it!” His face was beaming. I knew he had it.

Could it really have been that quick? Yes indeed.

He was beaming pure joy. I’ve seen that look on his face quite a few times. It is his ‘Lifer Look’. I knew without a doubt, I knew he had found it. We took turns (not a pun) looking through the scope. It was at least 400 metres away, but we could see that red bill and occasionally its red feet as well. It was sprinkling rain and there was a rainbow that ended about where the tern was. It was magic. It was Gonzo. It was my 785th bird in Australia.

 

Not much of a photo, but there's that red bill!

First views of the Antarctic Tern

I could not get a photo with my 100-400mm lens, but James has gotten pretty good at digiscoping and was able to take a few recording photos. It was constantly preening which made it somewhat difficult to get that bill but he did.

Oddly, even though we are way closer to Antarctica than to the Arctic, it is the Arctic Tern that is more often seen in Australia. Here is a bit of trivia regarding the names Arctic and Antarctic.

“Arctic” is from the Greek arktos for, “bear,” because the constellation Ursa Major, “the greater she-bear” (also known as the Big Dipper), is always visible in the northern polar sky. So “Antarctic,” literally means “opposite the bear.”

And while we’re at it, I learned that Antarctica was originally called Australia. In 1824, today's Australia took the name, leaving that icy continent essentially without a 'proper' name until the 1890s when someone (I am getting tired of googling about this) came up with the ‘No Bear’ name. James told me about the bear being in the name and I looked it up for this blog.

Our Lifer selfie on the breakwater

The next morning after a decent night’s sleep (I woke up too early as I do). We ended up at the same spot, but more rugged-up as the temperature was down, it was mostly cloudy, and still raining on and off. The winds were increasing.

Showing off that red leg and foot

Long story short. Again, after only 15 minutes or so, James refound the tern in the same general area and we got to stare at it though the scope. He even got us some more digiscoped shots with the scope maxed out. The bird moved a few times and flew off once, but returned. It stayed in the same basic part of the breakwater with hundreds of Crested Terns and a couple of White-fronted Terns. Just after noon Monday, we left Port MacDonnell and drove home. As James has joyfully been able to say before, “We did it!” Yes we did. 

Stay weird my friends 💙

Awakening of the Gonzo Birder

I wrote the “creation of the Gonzo Birder” first, but Gonzo is not created. It just is or it isn't. For me, it was always there. I was born Gonzo. It just remained more subdued, or more accurately, suppressed in some periods of my life. 

Well, I am no longer suppressing it. 

WTP May 2009 already Gonzo and awakening the Birder

The “Birder” part came later. I officially became a birder in May 2009 in Australia and at the age of 56. I peaked, physically, in my 50s and early 60s. I wrote about how I began birding in the first book, “An Australian Birding Year”. Although Australian bird centric, this book will be more broad. It will cover my Gonzo awakening and my new birding adventures since the second book “More Australian Birding Tales. It will be an enjoyable read (I promise). I will definitely make it an enjoyable write (thank you HST I hope you are watching this process from the other side). I do enjoy the process.

First visit to Kakadu, NP in the NT I was photographing Chestnut-quilled Rock Pigeons, in August of 2012

Why would I think anyone else would care to read a book about the birding-life of an (as I write this) 70-something Australian Permanent resident who’s not exactly famous or admirable? This guy is writing a book about himself (again)? Yeah, the first two books were personal and a lot about my journey. But quite a few people liked them and I like those people. Some even loved them and I love those people. Of course, there are those did not read them and I don’t know those people.

Hoopoes (top) and a Little Owl both in Spain May 2011, Yes I birded in Spain

Over the years, quite a few readers have let me know that my openly sharing my personal struggles with depression/anxiety, alcoholism, self-esteem, ADHD and Autism (I am certainly on the spectrum as are many, probably most, of my friends) has been of benefit to them. So this is the official (a word I often use), beginning of my third book. Its working title is, “The Awakening of the Gonzo Birder” or just “Gonzo Birder”, or “Gonzo Birder in Oz” or something. Working titles are working titles because they might change while you are working. 

Me now 70 and unapologetically Gonzo

40 Spotted Pardalote smiling on N. Bruny, Tassie 30 November 2012

Very cool. A Black Vulture and Crested Caracara allopreening in South Texas 2015

Wood Stork, possibly my favourite bird full-stop, 18 June 2013 South Carolina, USA

Painted Bunting, one of my favourite birds in the US, also in South Carolina

In the coming months and years, I will be plodding toward seeing 800 species of birds in Australia. As I write these words on 21 June 2024 (my parent's anniversary), I have seen 784 species. I reckon to make it to 800. I’ve set that as my 'end' goal and will not turn this into a ‘book’ unless I reach it. So spoiler alert, if you are reading this in a book, I have seen over 800 birds in Australia. If you are reading this in my blog, well, we will see.

So, these tales won’t be set in a year’s time, nor any other sort of time constraint. I will include accounts of Gonzo birding from the past, before my first two books, and for the first time, I may also write a little bit about birding in countries other than Australia. Today with this blog post, I begin this process in earnest. Yes, I have begun, but it will take a while.

"Do something weird today. There are fewer rules than you think."

Stay weird my friends ❤️

Connections With Heroes: Parts One - Three

Hero one: Gary Larson. 

I have seen very few photos of the brilliant cartoonist. This was the first I had come across and low and behold, sitting to his right on his drawing table is a coffee mug. I own a coffee mug exactly like it. It has sperm whales on it. I have it in my study. 

I no longer have a drawing table. I had three before the last move to Oz and into the 'trailer park' sized home. It was deemed that there was not room for a drawing table. So, I have no drawing table, (nor do I draw anymore. Kind of sad, but I don't).

   

Hero two: Jane Goodall.

Perfection

I am using internet photos in this post because I have no pictures of Jane Goodall of my own. She is the subject of this part of my “connections with heroes” writing.

First, I will state that Jane Goodall is an international treasure. I am literally in awe of her. She is one of the most admirable, valuable, brilliant, beautiful humans the planet has ever produced. And as I have written before, she was also my first celebrity crush.

I was barely beginning adolescence when I originally saw her in the pages of National Geographic. I did not understand the depth, nor meanings of the feelings that face, and hair, and yes those khaki shorts stirred in me. I suppose I imprinted on that look. To this day, a young Jane Goodall remains the centre, the essence of what I find physically beautiful. Other young men of my generation had their Marilyn Monroes, or Sophia Lorens, or Raquel Welshs. I had Jane. 

And! She lived in the jungle with chimpanzees! Possibly part of my Gonzo Birder core had its embryonic origins with Jane in the jungle. Here in my senior years, as I drove Troopi through the rainforests, rivers and outback of Australia, I suppose I felt some sort of connection to that lithe, blonde, adventurous beauty in those images from my youth. Some impressions do last a lifetime.

Here I am driving Troopi across the King Edward River in the Kimberley.

Hero Three: Joni Mitchell

I decided to include a short part three here, because it fits. Joni Mitchell is not only a deity in the world of music, she also had that look that I had ‘imprinted’ on in my early adolescence. My connection with her comes from her concert in Austin Texas on 27 January 1976. During the encore, Bob Dylan had joined her on stage and sang with her. Afterwards, I ended up back stage where I briefly met them both.

The night I met them both

To Joni I said, “That was beautiful” referring to her whole performance that night. I remember how she smiled and said, “Thank you” in a very genuine way. Then she leaned in and offered me her cheek to kiss. Yes, my lips have touched that perfect cheek just under that perfect cheekbone. 

Cheekbone perfection

After kissing Joni Mitchell, I found myself next to Bob Dylan and asked, “Mr. Dylan, may I shake your hand?" To which he replied, “Call me Bob” and extended his hand. I did call him Bob and I shook it. So I guess I could make Bob Dylan the fourth Hero in this writing although there is much more that I would like to write about him and I will. Later. 

Stay weird my friends ❤️

Early Gonzo ~ Austin

It was about Hunter S Thompson before I knew it was about Hunter S Thompson. 

In the early 70’s, I first heard the word, “Gonzo”. It was in relation to the Lost Gonzo Band. They were Jerry Jeff Walker’s back-up band and an excellent band in their own right. I learned the origin of the band name this morning from an interview with Jerry Jeff.

Below is a quote from that interview:

“I introduced the band and I'd come up with a different name every night, like “Jerry Jeff Walker and the Unborn Calves.” I was reading Hunter S. Thompson's Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas—it was gonzo this, and gonzo that, gonzo states of being. So, I introduced the band one night as the Lost Gonzo Band.”

   

At a great club in 1975 in Austin Texas, called Castle Creek, I opened for the Lost Gonzo Band. Jerry Jeff as there. He went up onstage during their song, “Dead Armadillo” and brought me up as well. He and I sang the chorus into the same microphone. I have a very mediocre black and white photo somewhere of us singing together. Somewhere. Too many things have gotten away from me, but I will never lose that memory until all is lost.

No, I will never forget that night and the Lost Gonzo Band. Gary P. Nunn, the leader of the band, asked me over to his house to record a few of my songs. He called me from Austin a few years later and said that he wanted to pitch my song, “Play and Sing” to Jerry Jeff. He needed me to do ‘something’. I honestly do not remember what exactly, but I never got around to doing it. 

It could have been the biggest thing in my career but horribly sadly, I did not follow up on it. I have never talked about this, much less written about it, but there you go. I was drunk (as I always was) and it just ‘got away’ from me. Back then of course, I had no idea about my neurodivergent brain, my ADHD and Autism. The very brain that made it possible to be so creative, also sometimes sabotaged me. I certainly cannot dwell on that, but I reckon I needed to acknowledge it.

So now almost fifty years later, on the other side of the world from Texas, I am embracing the Gonzo again. I was twenty-two in Austin and I will be seventy-one in a couple of months. I am not writing songs these days. I have written two books, both of which I am very proud. I am now moving into being a Gonzo birding writer, whatever that means. If I knew what it meant, it would not really be Gonzo. Yes, there is one last book left in me. It’s going to be different. But somehow it will be ‘out there’ for those who care to read me.

Gonzo Birder Christmas Island 2022

God knows I never fit the profile of a stereotypical birder, but most birders don’t. Many birders are a lot more weird than non-birders imagine. Birders are some of the very coolest people I know and very Gonzo. In case you haven’t figured it out, Gonzo can also mean cool, full-stop.

You can proclaim your own weird. There is now a GONZO BRDR t-shirt from the brilliance of Paul Riss and BRDR MRCH You can wear one yourself. I highly recommend Redbubble.

I just sat here and listened to a YouTube of “Dead Armadillo” from the Lost Gonzo’s album, Thrills. I used to have that album, but it’s gone too. It’s not on Spotify. Fuck Spotify. God I miss my vinyl.

I stopped by Luckenbach in the late 90's while I was on tour.

I have no idea what photos I can include with this post. I’ll see what I can dig up from my Texas year. It is hard to believe that I only lived in Austin for a year, , but I was only twenty-two and years were much longer then. God I wish I had known then what I know now. 

Stay Gonzo my friends 💙

Every Tattoo Tells A Story

 As I mentioned in the 23 May blog post, The only bird that I remembered from reading the Torres Strait chapter of Sean Dooley’s book, “The Big Twitch” was the Red-capped Flowerpecker. When I first read it, I had never heard of a Red-capped Flowerpecker. Nor did I ever dream that I would see one on the same island that he did up in the Torres Strait off Papua New Guinea. But I did and now I have the ink.

Old skin, new ink. My left arm this week. Such great birds, such wonderful memories.

Tattoos are an integral part of my Gonzo birding experience. Full stop. I got my first bird ink in August 2018. It was for Amytornis barbatus, Black Grasswren (I actually know how to spell that without looking). It was my 700th bird in Australia. My Aussie list is now at 784. I do hope to reach 800 before I am done, but those last sixteen won’t be easy. 

Top, Gonzo Birder and a Booby (Red-footed) and the first tattoo. In truth, this was second as it covered the first tattoo of Amytornis barbatus with Grey Grasswren feathers.

All of my tattoos are on my arms. I want them where I can see them and easily show them to people if I want. They are wonderful, permanent reminders of joyous times in my life. I can glance down at the Letter-winged Kite tattoo on my right forearm and remember the moment I saw it perched on a fence in Terrick Terrick NP in Victoria and knew for sure that it was not a Black-shouldered Kite. I can reach back in time and touch that moment by looking at the tattoo.

On a side note, that bird illustration was done by my dear friend, the talented Paul Riss. Paul was also the inspiration for me to begin to get bird ink. He has heaps of Latin bird name tattoos. At this writing, I have 23 birds and I am not finished yet.

 

Looking at the tattoo of Princess Parrots in a tree (from David Adam’s photo) can take me far out into the North Gibson Desert where I first beheld the pastel parrot porn of Polytelis alexandrea. I can see those birds as well as the campground at Jupiter Well. That whole wonderful area out there is “... about as far from anywhere as you can go and still be on Earth” to quote Sean Dooley from the Big Twitch. I loved it out there.

As Gonzo as it gets at Jupiter Well camping area (non-alcoholic beer there)

Princess Parrots when they were new. Ink does age and spread a bit.

I can look down at the name, Ficedula mugimaki and be back on Cocos Island on the grass staring into the foliage to see that beautiful flycatcher as it flitted about. It was the same spot where I got excellent looks at an Eyebrowed Thrush. Its name, Turdus obscurus, is also on my skin.

There is Ficedula mugimai above the Rufous Scrubbird (another great memory)

Yes, I can tell you stories of every bird on my arms. They are all birds I have seen in Australia and are all very special to me, special enough to be made a permanent a part of me. I have already written about them somewhere. Whether on social media, in this blog, or in my books (which were based on these blog posts). So I will stop writing and look through my photos for which pictures to use to accompany the words. Here are some photos of my birder ink.

Not all are bird tattoos, but I owe them all to birds. I was birding on Christmas Island and got to snorkel with Whale Sharks.  

The Papuan Hornbill that rekindled my ink. The Mega of all megas, I love that bird so much.

I was so very happy with this design for the Northern Rockhopper Penguin. It is just what I hoped for. 

In Zac's studio 22 May 2024

My b;rd tattoo. As they say, if you know, you know.

The quote borrowed from John Buchan about fishing adapted to birding. It is birding too (and I love that compass rose)

Stay weird my friends ❤️