UKARUMPA, PNG — Tonight I went looking for white-eyes. I wore a jacket because it is chilly, and Rainbow Lorikeets were noisy in the trees.

I found the berry-laden ornamentals and sat down on the grass. Gerygones seemed to giggle as they tumbled down the drooping casuarina. Black Kites soared silently, and I could hear the white-eyes far away.

It was no use straining to see them, so I waited.

One bird started calling from a nearby tree. I couldn’t see it until it flitted away, and I glimpsed its yellow breast before it disappeared, all alone into the sky.

None of its friends or relatives came, and soon I headed home for dinner. I will try again tomorrow.

It was a month ago that I first saw the white-eyes. I’d waited there in just that spot, and suddenly the branches sprang to life as the flock arrived at once.

Months of frustration were relieved; at last I could see the tiny, noisy birds. They feasted on the old and squishy fruit, offering me intimate glimpses through scrawny branches. I left them there, eventually, still feasting, and went home to share the story with you — but the internet had died.

It stayed dead for days, and then I left on another trip.

With a dismal six posts since the first of June, I fear I’m beginning to stretch even generous definitions of the word ‘blog’. I find my desires for this blog simply cannot be fulfilled — not as long as I am living without the internet for days and weeks at a time.

Thanks to those who are sticking with me. I’ll try to keep writing what I can, as long as the internet lasts.

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