Little Curlew at the WTP

I got my Lifer Little Curlew in Broome, Western Australia (page 201 of my book, The Year). But it was very exciting to have one across the street at the Western Treatment Plant in the Western Lagoons section. Michael Fuhrer had spotted it on Saturday and posted on the Victorian Birders page. I decided to drive straight over, especially since it is only ten minutes from our house. I ran into Michael as well as Dez and Maarten. We all looked for the bird for the next couple of hours without much success (we may have seen it briefly).

The next morning, Sunday, I drove over about 11am. Quite a few people had been looking, but they were giving up. As I parked, Dez was putting his scope into his vehicle, but decided to look for the bird again since I had just arrived. After only about five minutes, looking right out where everyone had been looking all morning, Dez said quietly, “I’ve got the little _____! (Insert British and Australian expletive that for some reason many Americans find offensive).” And there it was, standing proud and tall right in front of us. Not close, but certainly not far either.

       

We watched it for the next several hours. In that time it did not move more than maybe five metres. It never flew. It would occasionally hunker down and become very difficult to see. For a wader about the size of a Black-winged Stilt, they can disappear surprisingly easily in that vegetation and uneven ground. We posted to social media and alerted other birders. A lot of people rocked up and had a look at this visiting bird. The last Little Curlew seen at the WTP was in 2010. I had the privilege to witness Dez Hughes, who I like to refer to as, the “Wader Whisperer,” add a new bird to his farm list! How cool is that? 

The next day, I went over to have a look again. I was a beautiful day, but sadly, it seems the bird had departed. 

    

The next day, I went over to have a look again. Sadly, it seems the bird had departed. But it was fun seeing it with others while it was around. I reckon this is more the point of what I want to say. I want to write a bit about sharing a bird, about helping others to see it. That brings me a great deal of joy. “Lifer High” is infectious and it feels good. Other birders have been very generous and patient helping me to get onto a specific bird. I truly enjoy doing likewise. While the Tufted Duck was at the WTP, I went over most days. Scores of birders got their “lifer look” at that mega rarity through my scope (a first for Australia, or as the Twitters call it, an FFA). That was a lot of joy. Seeing that expression in their eyes when they looked up from the scope after having really seen it. The genuine joy would be beaming from their faces. I loved that. Yes sharing, it is everything. It is not something that everyone understands, nor does everyone have to.

I would probably become a birding guide except for my hearing, my vision and lack of knowledge (that is funny, but it is also not funny). I have severe hearing loss in my right ear and moderate in my left. My tinnitus is ever present and sometimes so loud that I expect the neighbours to complain. So I am all but worthless identifying birds by sound. And the cobwebby floaters in my eyes have become ridiculously numerous, distracting, and they can blur my vision. I deal with, and ignore, these things as best I can when I am birding, but I could not be a guide.

And knowledge wise, yes I do know stuff, but not enough. I occasionally make rookie-level identification mistakes. Sometimes I can blame my vision. Sometimes I just get it wrong. I am mostly good company to bird with, but I don’t reckon I could charge people for that. But damn, I do love helping someone to see a bird. That is such a huge part of birding for me as in all parts of my life… sharing stuff.

I write therefore I am. I share therefore it’s real. I love y’all.