We left things hanging earlier this week when I described getting my first look at a King of Saxony bird-of-paradise. I would have been back with the goods sooner but my trusty Mac laptop needed a brain transplant in the interim. But we're back now! And one of us has a new brain!
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Somehow the gods were smiling on us that morning—perhaps to make up for the long journey we'd had the day before and the cold, rainy, late-afternoon arrival at our first bit of decent bird habitat. Now, standing along the Highlands Highway, with a singing male King of Saxony bird-of-paradise in front of us, we might not have imagined things could get any better. And then the sun came up behind us, illuminating the scene in a wash of golden color, burning off just enough of the morning mist so we could get sparklingly clear looks at this amazing beast before us. He waved his head plumes back and forth, uttering the occasional song. We stood gob-smacked for a spell, and then came to life as we realized we had a chance to capture images of this aparition.
Imagine a large black, yellow, and white roundish bird with giant, spidery, iridescent feathers coming (seemingly) out of its ears. I struggled to find words to describe the head plumes. They were like pheasant tail feathers in length, but their bright metallic blue spots made them look like something from a Lady Gaga video.
One of our group asked "What King of Saxony was this bird named for?" I did not hear the answer ( it turns out it was Albert King of Saxony, whose full name was Frederick Augustus Albert Anton Ferdinand Joseph Karl Maria Baptist Nepomuk Wilhelm Xaver Georg Fidelis—a name as long as the head plumes of the bird that bears his moniker.) I guess we're lucky they did not pick one of his other names for this magnificent species. Nepomuk bird-of-paradise does not really cut it.
I thought of something different to myself, and apparently spoke this out loud: "They should just call it the King Sexy bird-of-paradise!" On this point we all concurred.
Here is the video I shot via my digiscoping rig. I apologize in advance for the background sounds of me struggling to pull another camera out of my waist pack. The King Sexy had me all shook up.
Our birding gang awoke to a chilly, misty morning to start our first full day at Ambua Wilderness Lodge. Being so near the equator, one might suspect that the temperatures would be quite warm, but this was the highlands. At this elevation of 7,000 feet the weather here stays moderately cool all year long. We ate breakfast in the main lodge building in the darkness, our gear piled up near the front door.
The patio lights had attracted some spectacular moths overnight. While we awaited our transportation, we took some photos of these insects, and tried our best to see some birds in the pre-dawn light.
Still no bus, so I decided to run back to the cabin to drop something off. Just as I approached my door, I saw Mark Cocker standing farther down the path, looking up into the trees. "I've got a bird-of-paradise here, Bill!"
He may as well have said "I've finally found the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, Bill!"
I raced down the slippery steps to where he stood and followed his pointed finger into the dark, mist-enshrouded trees. Just then a black bird with a ridiculously long tail fluttered from one tree to another. "I think that's an astrapia," Mark said calmly, "Probably a Princess Stephanie's."
I was gasping at the spectacle, trying not to scream out loud or soil my boxers. Oh. My. GAWD!
Mark Cocker, astrapia conjuror and birding smock wearer.
It's here that I need to explain why there is no stunning photo of this bird. Due to the weight limitations for our airplane flights, I elected to take only three cameras with me on this trip: my digiscoping rig (a Leica scope, adapter, and camera), my new Canon G11 point and shoot, and my Canon Vixia video camera. I also knew from prior experience that it can be very hard to get keeper bird photos with a big rig/DSLR camera in the light-poor tropical jungle (read my posts on birding in The Philippines and Guyana for more on that).
Luckily, my scope and digiscoping camera were all back up at the main lodge. So I ran like the wind. Up and back. And here's what I got to show for it.
I also got one still (digiscoped) image of the astrapia's silhouette.
The whole gang came down when they heard about the bird. We did not get good looks at it—the light was horrible and the birds (there were two) were not particularly cooperative. Sensing this was a fool's errand, our guide Benson, who works out of Ambua Lodge, pulled us away from our astrapia stake-out, saying "We'll see many more of them where we're going!"
Our group watching for the astrapia's reappearance.
It was hard to leave a known site of a bird-of-paradise, but we needed to do so—the day was coming on. So we piled into the bus and headed out to the only major roadway through the area, the Highlands Highway.
Spreading out along the Highlands Highway.
The Highlands Highway is a wide gravel road running from the coastal city of Lae through the highlands, connecting the primary towns and cities of PNG to the ports of the coast. During our trip we used the highway many times. At places it was as rough as any road I've ever seen. In other spots there would be pavement and smooth sailing.
This morning, we stepped out of the bus onto the highway, and into the still-cool morning. A few jammed trucks or buses passed us over the next hour or so, but mostly we had the roadway to ourselves.
At the first stop, just as the sun began to make itself known, we formed a loose skirmish line of optics, tripods, and cameras facing the sunlit forest along one side of the road.
The sunlight came streaming through the forest and mist.
It was then that Benson called out what would become my favorite bird of the trip—and it was right at the start of the first day!
It was a displaying male King of Saxony bird-of-paradise! In full sun. Waving his long, opulent head feathers to and fro, oblivious to the gasps and exclamations of our group. Focus wheels were turned so speedily that smoke rose from our fingers. Our eyes strained to catch every glint of iridescence on the shimmering plumes. Our ears tuned to the male's long, sputtery, squeaky song—which was nowhere near as beautiful as his appearance.
Male King of Saxony bird-of-paradise.
This was heaven on a stick! My heart raced and sang a song of victory for I had, at long last, experienced a truly magnificent/incredible/sweetly awesome/mind-blowing bird-of-paradise. Sorry Princess Stephanie, but the King of Saxony rules!
A couple of my British travel companions agreed that this bird was "a crippler!"
In my next post, we'll go closer and grab the video camera!
Bill Thompson III is the editor of Bird Watcher's Digest by day. He's also a keen birder, the author of many books, a dad, a field trip leader, an ecotourism consultant, a guitar player, the host of the "This Birding Life" podcast, a regular speaker/performer on the birding festival circuit, a gentleman farmer, and a fungi to be around. His North American life list is somewhere between 673 and 675. His favorite bird is the red-headed woodpecker. His "spark bird" was a snowy owl. He has watched birds in 25 countries and 44 states. But his favorite place to watch birds is on the 80-acre farm he shares with his wife, artist/writer Julie Zickefoose. Some kind person once called Bill "The Pied Piper of Birding" and he has been trying to live up to that moniker ever since.
Male King of Saxony bird-of-paradise displaying.
Imagine a large black, yellow, and white roundish bird with giant, spidery, iridescent feathers coming (seemingly) out of its ears. I struggled to find words to describe the head plumes. They were like pheasant tail feathers in length, but their bright metallic blue spots made them look like something from a Lady Gaga video.
