In October 2020 I was supposed to do a birding trip to Peru with Steve Young and other UK birding mates. Of course a certain worldwide pandemic put paid to that plan, but we were able to shift our booking to the same time in 2021. Not long after the cancellation I was driving down to a pelagic in Port Mac with Mike Potter, who suggested I join him for some or all of an outback birding extravaganza in Oct 2021, a crucial leg of his Big Year record attempt. Mike was under instructions from his wife Dani — probably very sensibly — that he should not attempt alone some of the more extreme outback birding his quest would entail. I was keen, but already committed my 3-week foreign trip. But Mike, probably quietly confident that foreign birding would be off the table (after all, that was a big factor in his decision to do an SA big year), was happy to wait on a firm decision from me.
When in May I finally pulled the plug on Peru mark 2, a trip with Mike was on. Although we toyed with the idea of something fairly ambitious, taking in the Birdsville and Oodnadatta Tracks, or even further, heading up to Mt Isa in Qld for some grasswren action, in the end family commitments, leave constraints and uncertainty over borders led us to a shorter itinerary taking us either up and back down the Birdsville Track, or, if Qld border was open and we’d collected our targets on the way north, we’d go up to Birdsville itself, and then loop back through Cordillo Downs, Innamincka and down the Strzelecki Track, a route known in tourist literature as The Outback Loop.
Mike had 12 specific targets — Black-breasted Buzzard, Spotted Nightjar, Thick-billed Grasswren, Australian Pratincole, Inland Dotterel, Flock Bronzewing, Grey Falcon, Banded Whiteface, Gibberbird, Eyrean Grasswren, Yellow Chat, Grey Grasswren — most of which I had seen well with Paul Coddington in 2017 (blog here), and none was a lifer or state tick, but by mid-year I had committed to building a “large” year list, so these 12 plus a bunch of others were my targets too. We secretly hoped for some lower probability birds like Letter-winged Kite and Barking Owl but the 12 above were the main priorities and any others would be a bonus.
Day 1, Sept 27
We set off from Adelaide bright and early on Monday 27th September. Well, maybe not so bright; perhaps just a bit bleary-eyed, but definitely early! We were aiming to maximise the time available for birding north of Port Augusta where the “outback” properly starts. It’s not like there is a border and a sign saying “outback starts here”, but with a population of around 15000, Port Augusta is around 50 times larger than anything north of it until you reach Alice Springs on the Stuart Highway (pop 25000, 1200km north) or Mt Isa on the Birdsville Track (pop 22000, 1500km north). After a short detour looking in vain for a Bustard just south of PA and a half-hearted stop at Arid Lands (lovely spot but not holding anything we needed), we were on the road to the Flinders Ranges by 8am.
The Flinders are a gem, a spectacular and iconic highlight of the South Australian outback. There is a good chance if you see a tourist advert for SA, especially the SA outback, the Flinders Ranges feature. The ancient folded mountains, once as high as the Himalayas, have been eroded over 540 million years, so that now the maximum height is just under 1200m at St Mary’s Peak. The hills are covered in low saltbush, bluebush and spinifex and a series of gorges split the mountains, the cliff faces exposing the red rock strata of those half a billion years. Mostly dry creek beds are lined with magestic, gnarly old river red gums. Occasional ruins of homesteads and farmhouses dot the landscape, a reminder of how harsh the landscape is and the lack of success early European settlers had in taming it.
Our first proper birding stop was mid-late morning at Wilkawillina Gorge north-east of Wilpena. It is a gorgeous spot, well off the usual Flinders tourist, and we set off up the dry creek bed towards the cliff of the gorge itself, momentarily distracted by an accipiter. I still needed Brown Goshawk, and although that’s probably what this was, we didn’t get enough on it to eliminate close cousin Collared Sparrowhawk.
In fabulous scenery we made our way closer to the cliffs where with careful scanning we were able to pick out Yellow-footed Rock-Wallaby, and my main target and state tick, Little Woodswallow. Diamond Dove was also new for the year. The trip was off to an excellent start and we grabbed some lunch back at Blinman before driving through Parachilna Gorge (more superb scenery) and north to Leigh Creek.
Coal mining at Leigh Creek ceased in 2015 following the closure of SA’s last coal-fired power station at Port Augusta. The retention dam, built in the 1980s to stop the creek itself flowing into the mine, over the 40 or so years of its existence has created a thriving wetland in a generally dry landscape. We rapidly added lots of waterbirds including large numbers of the usually scarce Musk Duck and Blue-billed Duck. A surprise Latham’s Snipe, presumably stopping here on migration, put in an appearance and Mike was able to add the first of his Big Year targets when we found a gorgeous Black-breasted Buzzard soaring over the far edge of the lake.
From here we carried on north to Farina, a scenic ruined town that was once on the old Ghan railway, and now is a collection buildings in golden stone, in varying states of disrepair. On the north banks of the creek that (sometimes) flows past the village is a lovely campsite where we set our swags, opened some liquid refreshments and chowed down on a home-made chilli that I had brought ready-made. Once the sun had set, we jumped back in the Kluger for some spotlighting. We’d driven barely 100m when our main quarry, Spotted Nightjar, flushed from the side of he track through the headlights and was lost forever. Mike had not expected any ticks on Day 1, and this was his second already.
Day 2, Sept 28
It was comfortable enough in the swag overnight but I could hear a stiff breeze — and sometimes even stronger — gusting through the large gums under which we’d made camp, not a good sign for the morning. Although it had eased slightly by daybreak, it was still unhelpfully strong given that the grasswrens — of which our next target was one — are typically skulkers, living and hiding in and behind thick low vegetation. Our best chance of seeing each of our three grasswren targets was going to be still conditions when they might venture onto the tops of bushes to sing.
With a potential year tick on the line, Mike was suitably excited and well-prepared with gen. We rocked up to his GPS coords optimistic despite the cool, overcast, blowy conditions. Nothing. We walked on and tried another similar spot. Nothing. Then further still. I played the song from my phone app… Wait! What was that? High-pitched squeaking. I could hear a bird calling, though the very high pitch, compounded by the wind, put it out of range of Mike’s geriatric hearing ;-). Once or twice I saw a bird dash between low saltbush. There was no question this was our quarry, but my views were of the untickable variety, and Mike got nothing. For 30 minutes or more this went on, with a bird leading us a merry dance until finally one jumped out from behind some saltbush, posed, tail cocked in a very endearing and characteristic grasswren manner, then jumped back out of sight, never to be seen again. At least this had been long enough for both of us to tick Thick-billed Grasswren (my first since 2014 on the Stuart Hwy — see here). Photographs were clearly out of question so we retreated to Farina and packed up our camp.
After refueling at Marree we took obligatory photos and selfies at the start of the Birdsville Track, then carried on north.
Eight km from Marree I was travelling too quickly past a 4×4 coming the other way and a stone smashed into our windscreen, creating a nasty chip. A few km on and a couple of jarring cattle grids later, and we noticed the chip had turned into a 10cm long crack, working its way both up and down the glass. Losing the windscreen out here 100km from any help could escalate into a trip-ruining disaster. I fished around in my camera bag and produced some duct-tape which we applied to the glass. Even if it didn’t stop the crack spreading, it would help prevent complete shattering should we be unlucky (or stupid) enough to get hit again, and also gave us the possibility of more closely monitoring the growth of the crack. I drove on more circumspect, and hopefully not too late. We kept our fingers crossed.
On top of the windscreen concerns, our lot for the day weather-wise was windy and overcast; not what we would have ordered or expected. And for much of the day it felt like this was going to scupper our chances of seeing further targets, as we put a 100km and more behind us, seeing very few birds. The desert is mostly about quality not quantity, but we were missing both! At Clayton Crossing where a key target for me was Red-browed Pardalote, the strong breeze gave us no chance of finding a tiny bird that hides in the canopy of the gums. At Dulkaninna Station there appeared to be a lot less water around than when I had last visited in 2017, and we continued to struggle for birds. But finally as we drove north from the station we spied some cattle, a reedbed and some water, always a magnet for birds out here in the desert. A pair of Brolga were working the grassy area, and as we drove closer a “brown tern” swooped past — Australian Pratincole! Since I’d managed to string a few other hawking birds as Prats earlier in the day, it was nice to connect with the real thing, one of the star waders of the outback. I made sure to let Mike know that Aussie Prat in in my top 5 Australian birds. In fact Mike noted over the coming days that there seems to be about 20 in my top 5, so he gradually became somewhat cynical of my subsequent pronouncements.
Another notable, though apparently untickable, sighting here was Ostrich. Is this the last of a formerly viable feral population? If so, shouldn’t it be countable? Then again, it does think it’s a cow…
Like Clayton Crossing early, Cooper Crossing was quiet and difficult to bird because of the wind. North of the Cooper there are more dunes and gibber and we stopped at a few places and scanned the gibber hoping for Gibberbird but without finding any. We did, however connect with three other goodies. First, on an otherwise undistinctive stretch of the track we flushed a small group of birds. “Inland Dotterel”, I shouted and Mike brought the Kluger to rapid stop. They had flushed to some distance off the road but we realised there were more further along, and with patience and careful scanning were able to get good views of several and even some passable shots of one particular bird that lingered a bit closer to us on the track than its mates. Another of the superb outback waders and also in my top-5!
Grey Falcons, superb raptors of the desert, were in position for us to scope at a comms tower, just as they had been 4 years previous. In fact as we watched, the pair took off, powered across the road and stooped on a small flock of chats. We headed north a few more km and scanned some more likely looking but gibberbird-less gibber. However here our brief stop was rewarded as a fabulous Flock Bronzewing swooped past like a Sandgrouse. A few birds came by and we were able to track one such fly past to some low vegetation of the other side of the track where it allowed fairly close approach and reasonable photos.
Despite unpromising conditions we’d ended the day with a fantastic set of birds: Thick-billed Grasswren, Australian Pratincole, Inland Dotterel, Flock Brownzewing, and Grey Falcon for Mike’s year list (and mine) and Orange Chat and Cinnamon Quailthrush new for mine. We arrived at Mungerannie very satisfied with the day’s haul, and after a rather nice and welcome shower, settled in to the bar for a few beers/scotches, and a natter with characters Phil and Deb, local institutions who have seemingly run the pub and roadhouse forever. We were joined briefly by Michael Greenshields, up here leading a small custom tour for Bellbird and exchanged gen. After an excellent steak I was ready to hit the sack.
Day 3, Sept 29
I woke before sunrise, with first light and a very familiar song echoing around the homestead: Red-backed Kingfisher. I still needed this for the year, and even more I needed a waz, so I decided to kill two birds with one stone by pulling on my trackie-daks and thongs and walking over to the ablutions. The KF itself was in a tree right next to them and typically perched out in the open. It shared the tree with another year tick for me, White-breasted Woodswallow. Not a bad start to the day.
We drove north west out towards Kalamurina and Cowarie stations. The terrain up here comprises flat, shimmering red and grey gibber plains, divided by long, sparsely vegetated, yellow sand dunes, each about 5-6m high and a few hundred metres or more long. It holds a stark beauty, as well as some special birds. The locals are keen to ensure people know what’s what:
We readily found the first of the day’s targets, Banded Whiteface in some vegetation on the edge of a big tract of gibber. More Grey Falcons, this time in beautiful morning light, made us wonder how it was that Sean Dooley managed to complete his famous Big Year without ever seeing one.
Our next target took some time to find. We walked along the crest of a long, likely looking sand dune listening for tell-tale squeaks of Eyrean Grasswren, but the conditions, although not as poor as the previous day, were still pretty blowy. I’d noted several Little Crow for the year during the hour or so we walked back and forth but not much else of interest until at last we heard one snatch of song, and Mike got tickable views of a bird that raced across a gap in the vegetation and was not seen again. I saw nothing. Another half-hour passed and finally I too got tickable views, first hearing a squeak and then eventually tracking the squeak down to the base of a dense bush and finding the tiniest window through the leaves where I could get a view. We now had accomplished our main task — seeing it — and as we contemplated our next move two birds burst from the bush and chased each other over the dune. We followed and tracked them down to a distant, but open perch on a dead tree — enough for slightly improved record shots and we could be on our way.
Further along the road towards Cowarie Station a single chat flew up from the roadside and something about it — as well as the fact it was on its own — stood out as being different from the numerous Orange Chats we’d been seeing. When we tracked it down, our views were distant, but unequivocal: Gibberbird. These yellow birds are one of the most amazing in the entire world. They choose featureless gibber plains, with almost no vegetation as their home. You need to be close and in position early in the morning not to have photos distorted by heat-haze rising from sharp, flat stones. Presumably they feed on insects they can find under the gibber stones, but goodness knows what they do for water — perhaps they just get all the moisture they need from their food.
Mike only had three targets today and we had cleaned them up by 10am. I, of course, still needed Red-browed Pardalote, so we carried on to Cowarie Station where we believed the campsite would give us a good crack.
Access to Cowarie campsite, even on just a day visit, requires a small payment to help with upkeep. There was no-one obviously present on our way in, but being good citizens we visited the farmhouse again on the way out and were met by a young buxom blond with her rather new-looking baby in hand. We explained that we had no cash, but in an accent that blended Scandinavian and outback Australian, she replied “just put it on our tab at the pub”. “You are a long way from home!” we remarked. “I fell in love with a cowboy and followed him here.” What a great story. She must really love him to live out there!
It took us a couple of goes to find the campsite but once there Mike was able to track down a Red-browed Pardalote for me — three in fact — though getting a photograph proved virtually impossible. These small birds, though brightly coloured, manage to hide themselves amazingly well in the tops of sparsely leaved gums. The campsite was quite a birdy spot, with Cinnamon Quailthrush, Cockatiel, Bluebonnet, Rufous Songlark, and Red-backed Kingfisher (one of my favourites ;-)).
We drove north to Mirra Mitta Bore for some afternoon birding at the waterhole. The last time either of us was up here, in 2017, someone fell into the bore and nearly died from the scalding water. The guy, on a 4WD expedition with some friends, was lucky to be pulled out by one of his mates and flown from Mungerannie to Adelaide by the RFDS. This happened just a couple of days after Paul Coddington and I had cruised through, and remarkably, exactly when Mike and his brother Steve were up here. The poor guy was receiving CPR prior to the air-lift when they rocked up to the pub. In case you are wondering, he survived, despite the 80% burns he’d received. As a result of this accident, there is now a new looking fence around the bore-head, stretching north as far as we could see, suggesting we would not be able to bird the overflow here. Fortunately we found a gate a few hundred metres north and could walk in to the marshy outflow area where we found several Australian Pratincole, as well as Little Grebe, Pink-eared Duck, lots of Black-tailed Nativehens, and a couple of distant Brolga.
Back at Mungerannie we walked the dunes behind the pub for an hour or so. A pair of black-and-white raptors got the adrenaline pumping for a short while until we were able to get good enough views to show these were Black-shouldered Kites, not one of our low probability targets, Letter-winged. At the start of one of the bigger dunes a tell-tale squeak betrayed the presence of more Eyrean Grasswrens and a pair gave us a fabulous close-range performance for one of the best moments of the day (and even the trip).
to be continued…
