MADANG PROVINCE, PNG — This was our last morning in a village called Aihac, where we have lived among the Amele people since Friday.

I have done almost no birding, except yesterday when I saw a Hooded Butcherbird sitting on a coconut frond, tilting back its head and ruffling its pied plumage as it whistled its loud, musical song.

This morning, I was able to get looks at a blackish bird with metallic calls. Its eye was red; its tail was long and shallowly forked. It hunted actively in the mid-story, once clinging to the side of a tree and bracing itself with its tail. Jouko had lent me his photographic field guide for the weekend, and I quickly determined that the bird was a Spangled Drongo.

While I had the field guide, I also looked up cuckoo-doves, hoping that a photograph might clear up my doubts surrounding Tuesday’s bird. Sure enough, Brown Cuckoo-Doves are quite brown, even the males. The bird I saw was not brown. Furthermore, the descriptions of a Great Cuckoo-Dove call in this book match the call I heard.

MADANG PROVINCE, PNG — Another mystery solved today! I’d occasionally heard a garbled but musical chattering from thick bushes, and I’d gotten only glimpses of the very secretive singers.

But today all was revealed when I got a very good look at a Variable Pitohui. Variable seems quite an accurate name for the species, which apparently encompasses a wide variety of colors and patterns among its races. This particular race sports a medium gray hood, a red-brown back, and an orange-brown belly.

The bird struck me as a “generic” passerine — I mean it was neither small nor large, and its proportions were all even. It didn’t have any crests or frills. Its bill wasn’t short, wasn’t long, wasn’t heavy, and wasn’t slender.

Nonetheless, the bird was attractive, and I was glad that this case was closed. The name pitohui sounds familiar to me. Are they the ones that secrete toxins?

MADANG PROVINCE, PNG — Before I came to a place where parrots lived, I’d always been excited by the idea of the colorful, intelligent, incredibly varied birds. I looked forward to getting to know them, to admiring them, to observing them.

But I don’t have good feelings toward the family right now.

Again this morning before class, I saw the small green psittacids I first observed yesterday. Again, I was unable to observe them in any sort of meaningful detail whatsoever. They are small, they move fast, and they stay hidden when they aren’t moving.

And I had another run-in with the mysterious shriekers that fly over every morning. I actually managed to glimpse them today as they flew over. I couldn’t see any green, or blue, or red, or yellow … no colors except possibly an orangey-red on the face or bill. I didn’t think the lighting was that bad. Where were the field marks?

Looking through the field guide, I have begun suspecting that they are Dusky Lories. The description of noisy flocks that roost at high elevations and then descend to feed seems to fit the behavior pattern I’m observing in these birds. But it’s just a hunch, and right now I don’t have the visual evidence to back it up.

Late afternoon before supper was better. All birding must be completed before supper, of course, because afterward it is dark. Today I got a great look at a White-bellied Cuckoo-Shrike — the best I’ve had. It was so close that I could finally see its black beady eye. Sure enough, the mask extends up to the eye and no further.

I stayed for a few minutes after the dinner bell had rung, looking out over the canyon. Just as I was ready to head for the dining hall, I saw something flying down below. I got on it as quickly as I could. Light grayish head, contrasting with brown back. It landed in the canopy and by some miracle stayed visible between branches. Its head and breast were a pale, rosy gray, and across its lower breast was a thin black horizontal band.

As I hurried away to dinner, I heard it hooting, a deep, resonant hoot.

Its name? Zoe Imperial-Pigeon. What a wonderful name for a lovely bird.

MADANG PROVINCE, PNG — Today was exciting, but it was frustrating too.

It started with a small passerine that I couldn’t ever get a good look at. It stayed in foliage far away and was backlit by the morning sun. I could tell it was something I hadn’t seen before, but that’s where I had to leave things.

Both species of sunbird were active and conspicuous below the office balcony. A female Black Sunbird worked a bush right under where I stood. She hovered frequently and stayed in the open, affording me good looks at her gray hood, yellow belly, and strong bill. Later, a pair of Olive-backed Sunbirds flitted around a different bush, and I saw them flick long, hummingbird-like tongues out of their sickle-shaped bills.

After breakfast and before class, I went outside to “study” my Tok Pisin. Of course, I was soon distracted. I heard unfamiliar calls from some treetops; I didn’t think they were sunbirds. A little bird flew over my head, and I realized the callers were psittacids. Alert, alert! They were small — about the size of a chunky bluebird — with very short tails. I saw a couple flying around. Those in the trees were badly backlit and stayed hidden in the leaves. They seemed mostly green with some red around the face and/or bill. They eventually moved on, and I turned back to face the canyon.

Several swifts were flying over the canyon — the swifts I still haven’t identified. I thought one had a white rump, and as I followed them around in my binocs, I came across a huge, very strange-looking bird. Adrenaline surged.

It took me a moment to realize it was a dove. It was large and spectacular with a long, streaming tail. The head and breast were pearly gray, and the rest of the bird was rusty brown. I noticed small gray patterning on some of the shorter outer tailfeathers. The bird’s flight was unlike anything I’d ever seen — strongly up then steeply down, strongly up then steeply down. What was it doing?

After just a few seconds, it descended into the trees, and then I heard loud, clear, and decidedly dove-like sound. The call, sometimes preceded by a single note, was a repeated series of disyllables, the second syllable stressed.

When I had time to consult my field guide, my fears about the psittacids were confirmed. I simply hadn’t seen enough to go on, and without knowledge of distribution, abundance, and ecology, I was empty handed.

I saw the picture of a Great Cuckoo-Dove and thought, “There it is.” But a closer inspection left me confused. One illustration of the Brown Cuckoo-Dove shows a very pale-headed male. The call I heard seems to match the written description of the Brown Cuckoo-Dove’s call more closely, and Brown Cuckoo-Doves are supposed to be more common than Great Cuckoo-Doves. But the bird I saw was so striking. Oh, what to do?

MADANG, PNG — Down at Jais Abin resort today, I got out of the water early to do a little birding. I’d seen dark, noisy birds flying around in the trees, and I wanted to know what they were. I finally found a flock feeding on berries in a fruiting tree, and though they were numerous, they were surprisingly hard to observe as they crawled among the leaves.

Most of the birds were dark above and pale with dark streaks below. They had bright red eyes set in dark masks, and their bills were stout. I wondered if they were orioles, which in the Old World are very different from our icterids. Then I saw similar birds that were glossy blue-black and also had bright red eyes. Were these the males and the others females? I wasn’t sure.

When I got back to my field guide that evening, I learned that the birds were Singing Starlings. Thinking back, I could see their resemblance in some ways to the starlings I knew, though they were notably different in structure, proportions, and behavior. Their loud calls had not struck me as particularly musical, and I wondered where the “singing” moniker had come from. The streaked birds were immatures; the glossy birds were the adults.

While at the resort, I also took some pictures of the caged birds near the parking lot.

A pair of Eclectus Parrots.

The Victoria Crowned-Pigeons are spectacular. I’d sure love to see them in the wild.