Picking one is tough. It feels like every moment with a bird is special and carves out a little spot in my brain and a certain moment might take me back to a pair of Western Gerygones chasing each other around outside my bedroom window the other morning or watching the Carnaby’s flow in flocks over the front yard as a kid.

But. Never, ever will I forget seeing my first Noisy Scrub-bird. Ever. That one sits at the forefront of my mind. I’d spent what felt like a lifetime around these birds. Hearing them before I even knew what they were, before I knew it was even possible to see one. And then one day, at a classic Cheynes Beach spot, I walked towards that rich, melodious call.

Unusually, and not often seen since, there was a male sat halfway up a scraggly Basket Bush. Tail cocked, body wide open with song. I won’t ever forget that.

Anywhere!? I’m lucky in that I get to go to the places I want to go to over and over again. Dryandra, Waychinicup National Park, the Stirling Ranges. My obsession with Australia’s birdlife runs deep and sometimes it takes a sec to try and peel my brain away from those parts of the world and think a bit more broadly.

Usually as far as I get is Papua New Guinea where Australia’s reach in avifauna still connects. I have a minor goal to see all the Malurids (Fairywrens, Grasswrens, Emuwrens) in the world.

A very Australian family of birds as far as I’m concerned. PNG is where the ones outside of Australia reside. So, take me to see the hardest one, a Broad-billed Fairywren, in the moist lowland forests of Northern New Guinea. I’m sure I’ll pick up a few other bits and pieces along the way!

Birding is my vocation. It’s my work, it’s my play, it seeps into every moment of my life. My ears are always on, sometimes to my friends and family’s frustration. Tuned into every moment of sound subconsciously searching for a familiar call I can put a label on. And, I swear I’m still listening to what everyone is saying!

Those who know me well understand that it is and those moments of perceived distraction are just me revelling in the wonder of the birdy world we live in and delighting in the experience of hearing something wild.

I sit here tapping away at my keyboard at a pub in Fremantle listening to a Singing Honeyeater bounce around a Plain Tree and chip and prip as it forages. That stands out through the hustle and bustle of a summers evening on a busy strip and well and truly over the voice of Morrissey of the Smiths singing How Soon Is Now, a song I adore. It’s become inherent to my existence, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.