SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA — This morning, everyone else boarded a plane for Los Angeles and left me alone at the airport. I had a little bit of trouble getting a ride back to my hotel, but I made it downtown eventually.

Immediately after getting settled in my new room, I headed for the Borders bookstore I saw last night with Mark, Emily, and Anna. I found a compact field guide with beautiful illustrations: Simpson and Day’s “Field Guide to the Birds of Australia.”

Much as I wanted to get right out and bird, I decided to grab some lunch and spend time looking through the guide, familiarizing myself with Australian avifauna. Surely that could be accomplished in 15 minutes or so. I found a bench in Hyde Park. Rock Pigeons swirled around occasionally, and a rainbow wreathed the feet of the magnificent bronze atop a fountain.

Then a white ibis sidled toward me. Its head was naked and black, and its neck sported stringy white plumes. It came quite close, and we eyed one another, each unsure of the other’s intentions. It strutted away, and I noticed some red iridescence on the back of its head.

My whirlwind tour through the guide left me dazed and confused, but I stuffed it into my backpack and headed north, in the general direction of the botanic gardens. Evidently the grayish, ground-feeding birds I saw yesterday were not a type of myna but a miner — a honeyeater. I’d have to find some again and look closer.

As I walked, I encountered a chunky, slow-moving bird on the ground, patterned intricately with black and white. Because it was near the women’s restroom, I decided not to stop and stare with my binoculars. I kept moving and found a place to sit down. I pulled out my guide — aha, a Magpie-lark. Then I looked up and saw another a short distance away. The species is dimorphic, with slightly different head patterns between males and females. I determined that this second bird was a male.

Then I found a currawong perched low in a small tree — it was huge. From my study, I knew what to look for. Hooked bill — check. White rump — check. A Pied Currawong, and what a fun name.

People were everywhere, and I tried to keep a low profile, looking neither like a terrorist, nor a voyeur, nor a nut.

The miners proved abundant and easy to observe. They had smudgy black heads and yellow skin around their eyes. They were noisy and rarely alone, seeming equally at home on the ground or in the trees. Their gray rumps and light tail tips convinced me of their identification if range and habitat were not enough.

I saw a pied, crow-sized bird on the ground. Even its bill was black and white. Unfortunately, it was wandering around near a couple working hard on their biology lessons. I had to keep walking. A consultation with Simpson and Day told me I’d just seen and Australian Magpie, which is a butcherbird, not a corvid.

If Wuvulu’s birds all dressed in black, Sydney’s birds like black AND white. In addition to the Magpie-larks, currawongs, and magpies, I saw a Little Pied Cormorant diving for fish. And there were the Australian Ravens with their white irises and wailing cries and the striking white cockatoos with black bills and eyes. The cockatoos’ screeching was horrific.

As I approached the opera house, I came across a pond teeming with birds. There at last I felt free to use my binoculars. Everyone else was looking at birds too. Blackish moorhens with bright white rear ends chased each other, uttering shrill, high-pitched calls. Little Black Cormorants rested in the palms, sporting silvery spots on their backs. Ibises nested in the trees, and their chicks peeped incessantly while the adults grunted and groaned.

Two Eurasian Coots swam by, all black with bright white bills and forehead shields. Rainbow Lorikeets flew overhead occasionally, screeching and flashing red.

Eventually I wandered on, finally coming across a bird I’d gotten a glimpse of yesterday and hoped to see again. It was a Masked Lapwing — a very large shorebird with strange flaps of yellow skin growing on its face. Spectacular. And then, very near the opera house by now, I happened across another bird feeding on the grass. It looked like a small goose with a brown head and dark spots diffused across its light breast. His mate, much paler and plainer, came from behind me to join him. Australian Wood Ducks.

Time for supper.

AUCKLAND, NEW ZEALAND — We flew out of Los Angeles, California, shortly after dark Thursday, June 2. Traveling over 500 miles an hour, we managed to stay in the earth’s shadow for the entire 12-hour flight to Auckland. When we landed, it was 5 a.m. Saturday, June 4. I was a bit disoriented by the loss of an entire day, but at least I’ll get to live August 7 twice.

It was dark in Auckland when we disembarked. I hoped desperately that the sun would rise during our layover, but it did not. I wandered through the airport shops and looked at several field guides to New Zealand birds. I found one that looked good, but I decided not to buy it if I wasn’t going to see any birds there.

When we took off about an hour and half later, a cold blue light had just begun to illuminate the landscape. We flew over a misty marshland and then entered heavy clouds. When we emerged above them, we were flooded by light from the rising sun. I thought I could just make out a tree-covered ridge protruding through the thick layer of clouds, but perhaps I only imagined.

Within an hour, the mountains, grasslands, kiwis, takahes, and other wonders I want so much to see were hundreds of miles behind us.

BRISBANE, AUSTRALIA — Dozens of swallows flew back and forth in front of the windows at the Brisbane airport. They appeared to be nesting up under the roof. I studied them as best I could without binoculars. They were brown above with pale rumps and underparts. I’ll have to get a book of Australian birds on our return trip and see if I can identify them. What looked like a Barn Swallow or two was mixed in with the other swallows.

I also saw several dark dove-like birds flying past quickly, often in pairs. I have no idea what they were. If it is a widespread species, perhaps I’ll see them better in Sydney in August.

The landscape was flat and dry as far as I could see, but soon we left it far behind.

PORT MORESBY, PAPUA NEW GUINEA — Air Niugini’s planes are emblazoned with a stylized Bird-of-Paradise. If all goes well, I’ll see the real thing before long!

We caught our first glimpses of the coast through clouds as we descended into the capital city. I saw what looked like House Sparrows through one of the windows. It was very hot. A short time later, we’d boarded yet another plane.

MADANG, PNG — Palms and other trees covered the land below. Thatched-roof houses made small clearings in the green.

When we landed, we walked across the runway to an open-air shed and waited in the sweltering heat as our bags were unloaded by hand and driven over to be placed atop a small, dirty counter. I saw a dark raptor flying over the short grass near the runway, and I watched a black-and-white bird atop a metal-roofed building. It was small and slender with a very long tail that was whisked continually from side to side. It was all black except for a pure white belly. My first life bird in PNG! — if I can identify it later from my field guide.

The camp where we’re staying is atop a mountain overlooking the city. The ride up was rough and harrowing. We arrived at the top as the long, long day finally drew to a close.