Nobody could possibly find and photograph a substantial body of Aussie birdlife without the active support of others.

Del Richards, ornithologist, professional bird guide and old-fashioned bushman stands above all others. His influence, friendship and advice (and being my best mate) has been a supporter and advisor since we met in 1998. On that occasion I paid him for a days guiding in Far North Queensland.

We didn’t meet again until 2008 when Jean and I were on our first lap of the island. Since then we’ve had adventure after adventure and I’ve not had to pay a cent!!!!! I’ll recount some of those adventures in some later posts.

In turn, Del introduced me to two blokes who have been important parts in my life. In order, they were Lloyd Nielsen AO and Jack Leighton SOB. Lloyd is one of Australia’s most accomplished ornithologists and a highly respected author, but most of all a true gentleman. He and Del allowed me to join them on expeditions where I learned more in a day than a year sitting in a classroom. Many of those expeditions involved the hunt for the Buff-breasted BQ. I was allowed to join them because I had a big camera; otherwise I was an impostor.

Jack Leighton is the most delightful rogue I have been privileged to call a friend. A long life as a farmer, snake catcher, fisherman and fishing guide and self-taught as a talented videographer at an age where most men have ceased to take a challenge, he is remarkable. His disrespectful larrikin attitude has upset many a stuffed shirt in groups of birders discussing their (claimed) achievements. “Yeah, I’ve seen that one – not bad in the pot once you get the feathers off . . . “. Thank you for the laughs Jack.

And now to the long-suffering Jean. Three times around Australia, most memorably, a year towing a Kimberley Kamper through the tropical North with no aircon; “you’re selling that thing when we get home”. I did. But I bought another one later. An unfailing supporter who loves a campfire and who has been responsible for first sighting many more lifers than I’d like to admit to. Twice, while camped at Marble Bar she must take credit for very significant finds. I repeatedly failed to find the Pilbara Grasswren. She nagged me so much I said that I was going out and not coming back until I found it. Done. Then, on an equally miserable repeated failure for one last attempt for the Grey Honeyeater, I said “OK let me stop the car one last time.” She insisted on picking a shady spot. The bird was there.

I owe you far more than these brief words Jeanie.