UKARUMPA, PNG — I woke up slowly my first cool morning here in the mountains. I heard parrots’ shrieky calls even before light. The dawn chorus, aside from the parrots, sounded much more familiar to me that anything I had heard around Madang. While the songs themselves were unfamiliar, they were obviously the songs of small, backyard singers, not the loud, boisterous calls of otherworldly friarbirds.

After I got up and ready, I had only a few moments to be outside. I wandered around a bit and ended up by the two big tanks that collect rainwater from our roof. There I had a nice view of the grassy mountains behind the house. Pacific Swallows perched on wires near a school building, and Sacred Kingfishers and Willie-wagtails were conspicuous backyard visitors. I saw small groups of parrots fly by, but I couldn’t get a good look at them.

I noticed movement along the chain link fence. In the fence and in the grass perched several small, finch-like birds. They were dark-headed with fat, bluish-gray bills. Their breasts and bellies were ivory-colored, their backs brown, and their rumps orange-yellow. The field guide supplied a name: Hooded Munia. PNG has several species of munias (or mannikins, not to be confused with manakins), and the Hooded Munias are the only ones with dark heads and clear breasts. They, evidently, are the expected species here.

A plain, grayish passerine perched briefly on the barbed wire strung atop the fence, but it was distant and I didn’t see it well. I did not locate the singers of any of the songs I’d been hearing in bed.

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