PORT MORESBY, PNG — I just happened to be looking out the window when a small bird flew onto a branch. I’d been hearing House Sparrows for awhile but dug out and raised the binoculars anyway.

I knew right away that the little bird was something I hadn’t seen before.

Squinting through the glass, screen, and security wire, I struggled to make out details: gray head, white throat, red-brown upper breast and white below, and was that a flash of yellow in the wings?

I had a pretty good idea what the little bird was, though I couldn’t remember its name exactly. The view through the window was terrible, but I managed to maneuver for a slightly better look.

The bird was preening in the early morning sun, apparently not in a hurry to begin its day. Yes, I could see some yellow-green in the flight feathers, and maybe a brownish wash across the back.

A quick consultation with Beehler and friends confirmed my hunch: Rufous-banded Honeyeater.

With a final stretch of its right wing — and then its left — the bird disappeared behind razor wire and banana leaves.

Four hours later, I peered through clouds at a humpy, brown land that protruded from the deep blue and turquoise of the sea. Waves’ white teeth edged the reefs, and high-rise buildings clustered together not far from neighborhoods that stretched out over the water.

I’d seen a Purple Swamphen flicking its tail among the egrets as we taxied out — the second in as many days. Yesterday, a big glossy bird with a heavy red bill and shield sprang from the road as we rumbled past. Just a short while before, we’d watched a Darter flap-flap-gliding high over the road, extensively pale below.

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