Birding spots in Sydney I want to explore or revisit

I'm planning to do more birding and bird photography in Sydney.  One of my all time favourite blogs, a blog curated by David Noble, provides a great selection of possible places to explore. I've put those places and others into the map below.  Now that I've photographed all the lighthouses in Sydney, this will be a fun new photography project to focus on.

Memorable moments: The three great twitches

In the birding community, those of us who obsessively pursue rare or elusive species are often known as "twitchers." The name comes from a very real, very physical phenomenon. When you finally spot a bird you’ve spent years searching for, a wave of intense excitement hits you. You raise your binoculars to your eyes, but the surge of adrenaline is so overwhelming that a tremor sets in. Your arms begin to shake, and sometimes the twitching spreads through your entire body. It is an extraordinary reaction that has to be experienced to be believed.

Over a lifetime of scanning treetops and riverbanks, I like to say that I have only truly twitched three times.

The first was in the lush wilderness of Ndumu, when I caught a sudden, violent flash of crimson through the canopy—the rare and breathtaking Narina Trogon.

The second was also in Ndumu, when my binoculars landed on the distinctive rufous face of the elusive Pel's Fishing Owl perched silently above the water.

And the third, most unforgettable twitch occurred along the banks of the Palmiet River.

Shortly after meeting Ally and her group of friends, a bunch of us went down to the river for a late-night, moonlit skinny dip. As everyone scrambled into the cool water, I caught a sudden, distinct sight of Ally’s white rump disappearing into the shadows of the river.

Right then and there, the classic birder’s tremor set in. My body began to twitch, and a single, crystal-clear thought echoed through my mind: Wow, I’m going to marry that girl.

I didn't need binoculars for that last sighting, but the instinct was spot on. We ended up spending seventeen wonderful years together—proving that sometimes, the rarest and most life-changing sightings aren't hiding high up in the trees at all.

Memorable moments: The vulture and the rookie

During my final years of school, I developed a consuming passion for bird watching. It was ignited by my close friend Tony Verboom, an expert birder who introduced me to the gritty reality of the craft. We spent our mornings at Rietvlei, crawling on our bellies through knee-deep mud, getting thoroughly filthy in pursuit of "lesser-spotted thing-a-me-bobs." I loved every second of it—especially the moment a magnificent Osprey banked over our heads, sealing my fate as a "twitcher."

From then on, I lived and breathed birds, cycling to local wetlands every weekend to increase my "life list."

Shortly after I started, while I was still very much a novice, Tony and I spotted a large bird drifting in the distant Cape sky. Tony gasped in genuine shock. "My God, it’s a Cape Vulture!" He was ecstatic; Cape Vultures hadn't been recorded in the Peninsula for sixty years. Tony was so convinced that he wrote a formal report for the Cape Bird Club newsletter.

When the article was published, I saw my name in print for the first time: Verified by Tony Verboom and fellow spotter, Graeme Myburgh. I felt a wave of hot embarrassment. I was a beginner; I just hoped the veteran birders wouldn't realize that my "verification" carried about as much weight as a sparrow’s feather. I lived in fear of blowing Tony’s credibility.

The moment of truth came during a Bird Club weekend trip to Swellendam. Tony couldn't make it, so I carpooled with the Chairman of the club, a friendly, high-level expert named Jan. As we drove, Jan mentioned the newsletter. "Extraordinary sighting, that vulture," he said. I nodded, trying to look like a man who knew his raptors.

I was obsessed with seeing a Black Harrier on that trip. I had them on the brain. Suddenly, I saw a large, black-and-white shape perched on a power line.

"Oh my God, stop!" I cried. "Black Harrier!"

Jan slammed on the brakes. The car screeched to a halt, dust billowing around us. He leaned out, binoculars raised, squinting at the bird. He looked confused, then slowly turned to me.

"Graeme," he said gently, "that’s a Pied Crow."

It was one of the most common birds in the Western Cape. Even a rank amateur knows a crow from a harrier, but my wishful thinking had performed a mid-air transformation. I sat there in the settling dust, mortified. I was certain I had just blown the credibility of Tony’s legendary vulture sighting to smithereens in a single, caffeinated outburst.

Thankfully, Jan was a man of immense patience and quiet grace. He didn't mock me or question the vulture article; he simply shifted back into gear and drove on. We had a marvelous weekend of birding, and while the Black Harrier never made an appearance, I learned a vital lesson: in the bush, as in life, you have to see what’s actually there, not just what you’re desperate to find.

Pure nostalgia: Discovering the joys of birding (1987 - 1989)

During my last couple of years at school, I developed a really strong passion for bird watching.  This was first ignited by Tony Verboom, a very close school friend of mine, who took me off on one of his birding trips. We spent the morning at Rietvlei, a local wetland, crawling on our bellies, getting knee deep in mud and thoroughly filthy in our pursuit of lesser spotted thing-a-me-bobs.  And I absolutely loved every minute of it, especially when a beautiful osprey flew over our heads.  

My love of birds was kindled into a passion shortly after when dad and I went camping to Uilenkraal. I lay in the sand by the lagoon, with close views of gulls, terns and pied kingfishers. Later, to my utter delight, an African Fish Eagle appeared in the distance.

From then on, I lived and dreamed birds and cycled to the local birding spots every weekend in pursuit of new species (or ticks as we call them) in order to increase my  life list. My favourite birding haunts included Rondevlei, Kirstenbosch Gardens and Devil's Peak.

Another favourite haunt was the Harold Botanical Gardens in Betties Bay for wonderful encounters with sunbirds and Ground Woodpeckers.

I also joined the Cape Town bird club. I loved the monthly get-togethers at the University of Cape Town to see presentations and amazing photos from people like Nico Myburgh. I remember vividly a wonderful weekend with the club at Swellendam.

In Std 9, I went on an unforgettable trip to Botswana (Okovango Delta and Chobe) where I saw birds like Gymnogene and Jacana.  Our family also went to Natal including Midmar Dam and the Drakensberg, where I saw lots of new birds.

Dad really supported my hobby. He and I went on an incredible trip to Zululand (Umfolozi and Mkuzi wildlife reserves) where I saw many birds.  My favourite memory is attracting a Green Coucal by playing its call on my tape recorder.

In matric, I went to Kruger National Park with a Colin, a close friend. I also went back to Zululand with Tony and his mum (Ndumu and Mkuzi) where I saw Pel's Fishing Owl and Narina Trogon.

They call us birds "twitchers" because when we see exciting new birds for the first time, we get so excited that our legs start to twitch and then our arms - so much so that it becomes hard to see through our binoculars. 

Since my school days, birding has continued to be a passion and I have travelled the world in search of new ticks.  My goal when I was young was to see 1000 birds in the wild.  In 2007 at the age of 37, I achieved this target.

Memorable birds seen during this time

Redbreasted Sparrow Hawk, with Tony, on a school camp a few years before

Black Eagle, slopes of Devil's Peak

Pied Kingfisher

Malachite Kingfisher, Rondevlei

Sandwich Tern, Uilenskraal

Curlew Sandpiper, Uilenskraal

Blacksmith Plover

Fish Eagle, Uilenskraal

Blackshouldered Kite, Rondebosch Common

Diederich Cuckoo, our garden

Little Bittern, Rondevlei

Burchell's Cuckoo

Orange-breasted Sunbird, Kirstenbosch

Cape Batis, Kirstenbosch

Ground Woodpecker, Harold Botanical Garden

Spotted Eagle Owl

Half Collared Kingfisher, Natal

Crowned Eagle, with Tony, Natal

Palmnut Vulture with Tony, Natal

Narina Trogon, Ndumu

African Rail

Green Coucal, with dad, Mkuzi

Pel's Fishing Owl, with Tony, Ndumu

African Finfoot, Nature's Valley

European Bee-eater

Favourite bird books

 

Major landmark: My 1000th new bird species

My number 1 life goal has been to see 1000 birds in the wild. Thanks to a bumper crop of 74 new birds in North Queensland, I have now passed that - currently at 1015 birds. As you can imagine, I was very excited indeed when I saw my 1000th bird - a beautiful red winged parrot. My birding hobby has brought me a lot of fun over the years since I started at school. I look forward to seeing many more feathered friends as life goes on - and who knows, maybe reach 2000 one day!

Birding books I used and loved

 

My first two years birding in the Cape Provence (South Africa)

During my last couple of years at school, I developed a really strong passion for bird watching.  This was first ignited by Tony Verboom, a very close school friend of mine, who took me off on one of his birding trips. We spent the morning in a local swamp, crawling on our bellies, getting knee deep in mud and thoroughly filthy in our pursuit of lesser spotted thing-a-me-bobs.  And I absolutely loved every minute of it, especially when a beautiful osprey flew over our heads.  From then, I lived and dreamed birds and cycled to the local birding spots every weekend in pursuit of new species (or ticks as we call them) in order to increase my  life list.  I also joined the Cape Town bird club and went on some great hikes with them.

Here are some of the new birds I saw in my first couple of years in the Cape and surrounds.

Rondevlei

• Avocet
• Little Bittern
• Redknobbed Coot
• Reed Cormorant
• Burchell's Coucal
• Black Crake
• Cape Shoveller
• Cape Teal
• Redbilled Teal
• Yellowbilled Duck
• Little Egret
• Yellowbilled egret
• Purple Gallinule
• Egyptian Goose
• Spurwinged Goose
• Dabchick 
• Great Crested Grebe
• African Marsh Harrier
• Blackcrowned Night Heron
• Blackheaded heron
• Grey Heron
• Purple Heron
• Sacred Ibis
• Malachite Kingfisher
• Pied Kingfisher
• Moorhen
• Eastern White Pelican
• Blacksmith Plover
• Kittlitz's Plover
• Ringed Plover
• Curlew Sandpiper
• African Spoonbill
• Blackwinged Stilt
• Cape reed warbler
• Cape weaver
• European sedge warbler

Uilenskraal

• Bartailed Godwit
• Kelp Gull
• Giant Kingfisher
• Knot
• Grey Plover
• Whitefronted plover
• Ruff
• Sanderling
• Little Stint
• Caspian Tern
• Sandwich Tern
• Whimbrel

Devil's Peak

• Black Eagle

Kirstenbosch

• Cape batis
• Sombre bulbul
• Cape canary
• Paradise flycatcher
• Rameron Pigeon
• Spotted prinia
• Cape sugarbird
• Lesser doublecollared sunbird
• Malachite sunbird
• Orangebreasted sunbird
• Alpine Swift

Rietvlei

• Osprey

Betties Bay

• Levaillant's cisticola
• Neddicky
• Cape rock thrush
• Ground woodpecker

Cape

• Cape gannet
• Cape Bulbul
• Cape bunting
• Jackal Buzzard
• Steppe Buzzard
• Cape Cormorant
• black crow
• Pied crow
• Water Dikkop
• Cape Turtle Dove
• Laughing Dove
• Redeyed Dove
• Cattle Egret
• Greater Flamingo
• Cape Francolin
• Greenshank
• Helmetted Guineafowl
• Hartlaub's Gull
• Hoopoe
• Rock kestrel
• Blackshouldered kite
• Orangebreasted longclaw
• rock martin
• sand martin
• Speckled Mousebird
• Spotted Eagle Owl
• Feral Pigeon
• Rock Pigeon
• Chestnutbanded Plover
• Crowned Plover
• Whitenecked raven
• Cape robin
• Bokmakierie
• Southern boubou
• Fiscal shrike
• House sparrow
• Cape sparrow
• European starling
• Redwinged starling
• Little Swift
• Swift Tern
• Cape wagtail
• Cape whiteeye
• Diederich Cuckoo

Karoo

• Pririt batis
• Mountain chat
• White stork
• Whitefaced Duck
• Whitethroated canary
• Karoo chat
• Greybacked cisticola
• Fairy flycather
• Greater Kestrel
• Redcapped lark
• Palewinged starling
• Cinnamonbreasted warbler
• Rufouseared warbler