According to the Cambridge Dictionary to say someone is as “high as a kite” is to say they are either intoxicated or extremely happy. Currently I’m in the extremely happy category as we have been having regular visits from a juvenile Black-shouldered Kite. It spends mosts of its time perched on the TV aerial and can often be heard chattering away – sort of a cross between a chirp and a squawk. We had a bit of a mouse plague earlier and this bird is probably the result of that. Normally Black-shouldered kites breed only once a year in the period August to January, but when there is an abundance of food they will breed twice.
A juvenile Black Shouldered Kite, Boorh-ga in Nyoongar, perching on our TV areial. (Elanus axillaris). York, Western australia. Olympus EM1x with OM System 100-400mm lens.
The photos are the best I’ve managed to get so far, but the up the chuff view point (a bird photography technical term) is never a good look. I’ve seen it hunting over the open fields in front of us so hopefully I’ll manage to get some birds in flight shots soon.
Paul David Hewson / Adam Clayton / Larry Mullen / Dave Evans, 2000
Lake Leschenaultia on a misty winters morning
My first outing birding since getting back from Cairns. What a contrast. Instead of a nighttime temperature of 20℃ rising to 30℃ and humidity of 75% while walking through tropical rainforest the morning started at 0℃, with frost and mist as I walked through the jarrah forest that rings Lake Leschenaultia. As my dear old mum used to say I had more skins on than an onion. Honestly I looked like Bibendum the Michelin Man.
Kwirlam or Purple Swamphen (Porphyrio porphyrio).
I must say as I parked the car and started walking towards the lake I was a little apprehensive– the conditions were pretty rank and I wasn’t really expecting to find anything much. Sometimes going birding is like an act of faith, you set out early in the morning not knowing whether you’ll find anything. I’ve been out on mornings with much more favourable conditions than this and not seen a sausage. So you can understand my trepidation. It turned out I was worrying needlessly. As I drew closer to the lake I could hear all manner of bird activity. Regular readers may remember that three years ago I spotted a Spotless Crake (Porzana tabuensis) near the boat shed and ever since then I’ve been loitering there every time I visit in the hope of seeing it again to no no avail. I developed a kind of “Crake mania” and started obsessively trying to see one, or its cousin the Spotted Crake (Porzana fluminea). Now I was completely over it. I only paused to quickly take a landscape snap of the conditions and a grab shot of a Purple Swamphen (Porphyrio melanotus) and headed off walking anti clockwise rather than my usual clockwise.
Djer-djer or Splendid Fairy-wren (Malarus splendens subsp splendens).
Blimey the mist was thick and wet, a bit like members of the royal family, and I was glad that in a last minute decision I’d grabbed a waterproof as I left the house as the fog drip was making me pretty wet. As I crossed the dam wall I couldn’t see more than about 5m in front of me. I was quite surprised to see a small flock of Splendid Fairy Wrens (Malurus splendens) foraging on the path. Every now and again one would take a break and sit on the post and rail fence that stops people falling into the water. They were such a delightful sight that I stayed and photographed them for about 30 minutes. They were quite happy to let me get close and they only left when an angry Red Wattlebird (Anthochaera carunculata) chased them off. Carrying on walking I came to to a spot where the reed beds start on this side of the lake. The weak watery winter sun was starting to peak through the cloud and the scene looked so lovely that I stopped to take a photo. I was lapping up the bucolic setting and the warm sunlight when out of the corner of my eye I spotted something rummaging about in the shallow water at the base of the reeds. It was a Spotless Crake feeding on the fringes of the reeds. “Damn and blast!” or words to that effect, I’d altered the settings on my camera to take the landscape shot and now I was fumbling with the dials trying to switch it back again. My gloves weren’t helping matters here. The bird just carried on like it didn’t have a care in the world. I quietly got down onto my knees and fired off frames like there was no tomorrow.
Just a quick snap shot of the sun breaking through the mist.
At the base of those reeds was a Waradja or Spotless Crake (Porzana tabuensis).
For such a notoriously shy and secretive bird it was remarkably chilled about my presence.
After 20 minutes I decided to give the Spotless Crake a break and walked on only to see another two of them. To say that I was completely gobsmacked was a complete understatement. It was turning out to quite a wonderful morning. By now the sun was starting to burn off the morning mist and penetrate the woodland. It was a sublime feeling stopping in a little glade with the warmth of the sun invigorating my body. It made me feel so glad to be alive.
This Kadjinak or Grey Fantail (Rhipidura albiscapa) was flitting about in top of the reed bed while I was taking photos of the Spotless Crake.
Once the mist had burnt off the warm sunlight filtered through the trees.
My last birding outing in Broome was to Town Beach – a whopping 5 minutes walk from where we were staying. It was the evening before we were due to leave Broome and I wanted to get some photos of the migratory shorebirds that are found in Broome at this time of year.
I didn’t notice the Eastern Osprey (Pandion cristatus subs leucocephalus) perching on a lamp post on the Town Beach Jetty when I took the photo. It was only when I was processing it that I saw it.
The tide was out and a long way to boot. Ideally I’d want the tide to be coming in as it would push all the birds closer to me. A receding tide would take them away from me. So the question was how to get close to the birds while avoiding the liquid mud that was between us. The obvious answer was the jetty as it extends 112m out from the shoreline. The only problem was that it is very high to account for Broome’s 10m+ tides. Then I noticed some kids playing on what appeared to be a lower level and watching them carefully I saw how they were accessing this level and I quickly took up position. Most of the birds were still a long way out – well over 500m. After watching for a while I saw that there were a few different species of bird that were closer to me, but even so I’d need to fit my 1.4 x teleconverter to my 100-400mm lens. Not ideal because of the hit on image quality and having a maximum aperture of f9 forcing the use of high ISOs and lower shutter speeds.
An assortment of shorebirds lands looking for food.
Ruddy Turnstone, Arenaria interpres. Town Beach, Broome, Western Australia.
There were quite a few different species out on the mud. There was an Eastern Reef Egret and a Little Heron poking around amongst some rocks for something to eat. A Whimbrel stayed for ages going back and forth. Every now and again a little flock of assorted birds – Rudy Turnstones, Terek Sandpipers, Greater Sand-plovers and Grey-tailed Tattlers – would land and have a bit of a feed then something would spook them and they’d all take off again. It was brilliant and time just flew past. All too soon the sun was starting to dip below the horizon and the light levels were too low to continue photographing. All in all it was an excellent end to an excellent trip.
Eastern Curlew, Numenius madagascariensis. Town Beach, Broome, Western Australia.
Eastern Reef Egret, Egretta sacra. Town Beach, Broome, Western Australia.
The title for this blog entry comes from the song by the great Robert Cray.
Red-collared Lorikeet, Trichoglossus rubritorquis. Discovery Parks – Broome, Western Australia.
I enjoyed our trip to Broome immensely, it was great to see a region we’d never seen before at a time of year most people avoid. From a bird photography point of view things didn’t turn out how I’d expected them to. I must say that this is probably my fault as I’d been wanting to go for a while and as a result of reading numerous articles and watching countless videos on birding in Broome my expectations were probably too high.
Crested Pigeon, Ocyphaps lophotes. Broome Golf Course, Western Australia.
Little Friarbird, Philemon citreogularis. Broome, Western Australia.
We saw plenty of birds including eight new to me species. Photographing them was another thing all together. The first thing that made this difficulty was the heat and the humidity – lenses would fog up and take ages to clear. There was a lot of heat haze which combined with long focal lengths meant quite a lot of photos were unsharp. We didn’t experience these problems in Darwin, but then again we visited there at the end of the dry season. One of the ways to overcome this was by getting close to the subject and don’t shoot them at ground level. This worked very well with small bush birds and I got some nice photos with plenty of detail. The real problems set in when shooting the shorebirds. Firstly the tidal range in the Kimberley is huge – Town Beach has 10m+ tides and it can be 1 Km or more between the high tide mark and the water. You can of course walk out on the mud, but eventually it gets too soft and you sink into it – I speak from personal experience here. So a lot of the time the birds were a speck on the horizon and the OM System 100-400mm mk ii wasn’t long enough. I did try slapping on the 1.4 x teleconverter, but that magnified the heat haze problem and detail disappeared.
Brown Honeyeater, Lichmera indistincta. Minyirr Park, Broome, Western Australia.
Brown Honeyeater, Lichmera indistincta. Minyirr Park, Broome, Western Australia.
Rainbow Bee-eater, Merops ornatus. Minyirr Park, Broome, Western Australia.
The best locations we visited were Kabbarli Lookout (Entrance Point and Port [Broome]), Minyirr Park and Town Beach. We didn’t go to the Broome Bird Observatory as the dirt road becomes almost impassable during the wet and the hire car companies don’t like you going down it. We’ll leave that one for a dry season visit. So yes I would love to go again.
Black Kite, Milvus migrans. Minyirr Park, Broome, Western Australia.
Common Sandpiper, Actitis hypoleucos. Kabbarli Lookout, Broome, Western Australia.
Mangroves are a very new experience for me. My first real experience of them was in 2024 when we went to Darwin in the Northern Territory. So I was looking forward to having a look at the mangroves in Broome.
Streeter’s Jetty takes you out among the Broome Mangroves. Broome Western Australia.
Mangroves are basically shrubs or trees that have adapted to living in the upper tidal zone in saline or brackish water. Their root systems have developed so they can resist tidal forces and cope with saltwater immersion. They stabilise coastal areas preventing coastal erosion and protect from tsunamis. At the same time they provide an important ecosystem that support an incredible diversity of species. In Broome the mangrove systems occur east and south of Roebuck Bay. The tidal range is huge which means a vast expanse of mud can be exposed at low tide. Now there were two things that put me off exploring when the tide was out. The first was that the mud is soft. I’d seen Reef Egrets and Striated Herons sink quite deep into it. The other was salt water crocodiles. They live in the tidal rivers, creeks, and mangroves around Broome. At Streeter’s Jetty there was a sign warning of the dangers of crocodiles and the Jetty does get closed if there is a sighting. So as you can see my exploration was a bit limited, but it was enjoyable and it was nice to see and photograph something a bit different.
Flame-backed Fiddler Crab, Tubuca flammula. Streeter’s Jetty, Broome, Western Australia.
Flame-backed Fiddler Crab, Tubuca flammula. Streeter’s Jetty, Broome, Western Australia.
Mangrove Climbing Crab, Metopograpsus latifrons. Streeter’s Jetty, Broome, Western Australia.
Australian land hermit crab (Coenobita variabilis). The mangroves at Town Beach in Broome, Western Australia.
Purple Climber Crab, Metopograpsus frontalis. The mangroves at Town Beach in Broome, Western Australia.
That would be Gantheaume Point which is 6Km from Broome’s town centre. To get the most out of a visit you need a sunny day and a very low tide. The sunny day means that the incredible red rocks are sharply contrasted with the blue sky and aquamarine sea. It is quite stunning. The very low tide means that dinosaur footprints from the Early Cretaceous can be seen. When we visited we had the sunny day, but, the tide was well and truly in.
Danger! Killer Rubber Ducks.
As I said previously we were visiting at the tail end of the wet season – think tropical storms that dump an incredible amount of water. So as we drove the final leg down to the car park along a dirt road we encountered some huge puddles. Like really big – so big that one of them had waves created by the off shore wind. At the car park we were met by a sign warning us of the dangers that were present. I could understand the one about unstable cliffs that could collapse, the one about deep holes that the unwary could fall into, but the one warning about the giant rubber ducks that pushed people off the cliffs was a bit of a mystery. Thankfully while we were there we did not see the rubber ducks and so felt quite safe.
The lighthouse at Gantheaume Point, Broome Western Australia.
Halfway up the lighthouse was an Eastern Osprey nest.
Just below the nest was an Eastern Osprey, Pandion cristatus subs leucocephalus) eating a fresh fish. Gantheaume Point, Broome Western Australia.
Eastern Osprey, Pandion cristatus subs leucocephalus) eating a fresh fish whilst perched on the Gantheaume Point lighthouse.
Walking from the car park you see the old lighthouse keeper’s house and the lighthouse itself. About halfway up the lighthouse we could see the massive pile of sticks that is an Eastern Osprey’s nest and below that was an Osprey chowing down on a big fish. Now the Eastern Osprey is quite a big bird of prey, but every couple of minutes it paused eating to scan the environment for threats. Birds such as Australian Ravens and Masked Lapwings will attack them and drive them off, but it was also probably keeping an eye open for other birds of prey that would try and steal the fish.
Everywhere we went there were thousands of dragonflies. Wandering Glider Dragonfly (Pantala flavescens). Broome South Wastewater Treatment Plant, Broome, Western Australia.
According to the Indigenous Yawuru people the wet season, Man-gala, draws to a close and the next season, Marrul, starts and one of the markers for that change are the appearance of dragonflies. Thousands upon thousands of them. They were everywhere we went. I’ve never seen so many it was absolutely incredible. Gantheaume Point was no exception, heaps of them everywhere. A lot of smaller birds of prey feed on the large insects and there were a couple of Australian Hobby, which are a variety of small falcon, doing precisely that. They put on an incredibly acrobatic display darting in and out of the rocks chasing down their prey. They didn’t even bother to land when they caught one preferring to eat it in flight. It was simply sublime watching them.
Australian Hobby, Falco longipennis, feeding on a dragonfly. Gantheaume Point, Broome Western Australia.
By now we were absolutely drenched in sweat. The temperature and the humidity had taken its toll so we headed back to the car looking forward to the relief provided by air conditioning.
The scenery was pretty impressive too. Helen exploring the rocks at Gantheaume Point, Broome Western Australia.
When you start wildlife photography it is very easy to get disappointed. You see all these marvellous photos other people put up on social media and you are left wondering why your photos are not as good. Usually people put it down to not having the best gear – if only I had that 800mm F5.6 lens – maybe if they had better photographic technique or access to exotic animals in exotic locations the photos would be better. Photographic technique is easily learnt, you don’t need expensive equipment and nor do you need to travel to exotic locations. I think patience is very important and that is something we can all develop.
Koordji-koordji or Australian Reed Warbler (Acrocephalus australis subspecies gouldi). Lake Leschenaultia, Chidlow, Western Australia.
Breakfast.
The other morning I was at Lake Leschenaultia. The previous day there had been the tail end of cyclone coming down the coast which brought rain and strong winds. The rain had passed, but, there was still quite a bit of wind about. As I got down to the lake I could see it was choppy and there were no waterfowl about and there was nothing much happening in the trees. I could have given up and gone home, but I know from experience that there are a few sheltered spots to be found as you walk round the lake so I set off for them. The first couple yielded nothing, the third was alive with the sound of Australian Reed Warblers, Splendid Fairy Wrens, Silvereyes and Inland Thornbills. They were feeding on the insects found amongst the reeds. There was no way I could quietly approach – the forest floor down to the lake was covered in dry leaves and bark. It is like walking over corn flakes – very crunchy and noisy. Even if I could get down there quietly suddenly appearing out of the tree cover would put everything to flight. Nevertheless I made my way into the dry portion of the reed bed and as expected everything cleared off. Now this is the point where it was tempting to think that’s it and move on. However, I knew that the food source won’t have moved and the birds were hungry. I also know that these particular birds are quite tolerant to people if you are quiet and don’t move around much so all I had to do was wait. I’ll admit it was hard – the mosquitoes were ferocious – but after 20 minutes or so the birds came back. In that time I positioned myself to ensure I had a good background and if the birds wanted to take off they would have to fly towards me. All these birds are incredibly quick, but the knack is observing how they move through the reeds and where they like to perch when having a breather. Pre-focus on one of those spots as it will give your cameras AF system a good chance of locking on to the bird. Then it was a case of being patient and waiting until they came close to me and taking the photo. Forty minutes later and it was all over. The birds had moved onto another spot which was too inaccessible for me to follow.
Doolor or Silvereye (Zosterops lateralis). Lake Leschenaultia, Chidlow, Western Australia.
If you are a regular reader you may recall that I recently wrote about having one of those magical days where everything goes right. Well yesterday was the anthesis of that.
Noolarko or Black-faced Cuckoo Shrike (Coracina novaehollandiae) waiting for the clouds to break and the first rays of the sun to light up the day.
We had decided to get up early and walk along the River Avon here in York, so come 5am I bounced out of bed (Haha! As if!) and quickly got dressed. As I quickly had a coffee and piece of toast the rain began to fall. It was one of those summer downpours with big fat lazy raindrops that hit the parched dirt and release that wonderful petrichor. These downpours don’t generally last long and this one was no different so we headed out. On arriving at the river it was quiet, very quiet. In fact unnervingly quite. A complete absence of bird sound apart from a rooster making it’s presence known, but, that doesn’t count. It’s very unusual to be out at dawn and not hear birds singing. I thought normal activity would be resumed when the sun broke through the clouds so we carried on walking. A pair of Black-faced Cuckoo Shrikes perched high up in a dead tree gave me something to point my camera at. Not thrilling photos but a start nonetheless. A bit further on and the clouds had now cleared and we were greeted by a brilliant cobalt blue sky and a steady procession of Galahs flying in formation. I managed to get some photos of them. I’d wanted for ages to get a shot of Galahs flying against a back drop of a brilliant blue sky – the contrast of their pink feathers and the blue. Doing something I never normally do I looked at the rear of the camera and when I saw the sequence of photos I could see that I had achieved that goal. I was at this point feeling rather pleased with myself. The Bible warns us that “Pride comes before a fall” (Proverbs 16:18) and little did I realise that I was about to become literally acquainted with it.
Djakal-ngakal or Galah (Cacatua roseicapilla) fly past.
Turning round we walked back the way we had come and then onto a spot where we could access the river bed. As we broke cover from the bushes we set what seemed like every duck in York flying. Whoops! Then I had this urge to see what if anything was around the corner. When suddenly it happened. You know how people often say that when something catastrophic happens time slows down and everything happens in slow motion? Well that didn’t happen. One minute I’m vertical the next bang and I’m prostrate in the mud with incredible pain shooting up my arm and from my hip. Necessity meant that I just lay still for a bit to see if the pain subsided. I quickly realised at this point that I wasn’t seriously hurt because I was more concerned that my camera had survived the cataclysm than about any injuries I’d sustained. I also became aware of the beloved significant other calling out. She had tried to get over to me but hadn’t got very far as she didn’t want to befall the same fate. Gingerly I got onto all fours and crawled to a firmer spot and got up. I was covered from head to toe in evil smelling river mud – my camera wasn’t much better.
After a dramatic fall while out birding this morning the Olympus EM1x and OM System 100-400mm look a little worse for wear.
Sitting here writing this my camera and I have scrubbed up well. It works perfectly – a testament to ruggedness of Olympus cameras. Me – I’m a bit sore, but there is no major damage.
Note to self: don’t go walking along the river bed just after it has rained – it is very slippy.
Back in November 2025 I wrote about my experiences with the OM System 100-400 mk ii, and it is fair to say that they weren’t very positive. Since then a lot has happened and I’ve had a couple of requests for an update so here we go.
First of all I’d like to take the time to thank Aaron Harivel Product and Sales Specialist at OM Digital Solutions Australia for his help and patience in bringing this matter to a resolution. On 21st January 2026 I picked up a new copy of the lens.
My main problems with the original copy were that the autofocus was very bad – it just wouldn’t find focus or when it did it would not hold it. It was a very frustrating experience. My other cause for concern was that the lens was soft wide open and didn’t improve until I stopped down to f11. So I was interested to see whether the new copy was any better.
Optical Performance
I didn’t bother testing the lens at all focal lengths I just concentrated on the 400mm end. So pointing the lens at a test chart with the camera mounted on a tripod and using the self timer to trigger the electronic first curtain shutter I found that the new version wide open at f6.3 was softer than the first copy – only by a gnat’s whisker, but none the less it resolved less fine detail. But, more importantly the performance at f8 was way superior to that of the first lens even when that was stopped down to its best aperture of f11. Not ideal, but I can work with it if I can get the lens to focus accurately and consistently.
Autofocus
The day after I collected the lens I took it out and gave it a simple test – taking a sharp photo of a Laughing Dove sitting on a railing from a distance of about 10m. I fired a burst of shots using single point continuous auto focus and held my breath waiting for the buffer to clear before looking on the back screen of the camera. When I looked I saw to great relief that every shot was perfectly in focus – something the first copy could not achieve. I carried on walking along the riverbank taking photos of a variety of different birds in as many different lighting scenarios as I could find using either single point CAF or subject tracking and the lens performed flawlessly. The video I shot was also in focus. I’ve even tried it in combination with the 1.4x teleconverter and it works well in brighter light, but struggles a little bit when the light levels are low and lack contrast. It was better than I expected.
I’ve taken it out of subsequent occasions with the same results.
Kanyinak or Sacred Kingfisher (Todirmphus sanctus). Northam, Western Australia.
Djakal-ngakal or Galah (Cacatua roseicapilla) fly past. York, Western Australia.
Djoowi or Tawny Frogmouth (Podargus strigoides). Lake Leschenaultia, Chidlow, Western Australia.
Doolor or Silvereye (Zosterops lateralis). Lake Leschenaultia, Chidlow, Western Australia.
Koordji-koordji or Australian Reed Warbler (Acrocephalus australis subspecies gouldi). Lake Leschenaultia, Chidlow, Western Australia.
In Summary
Well when I posted the original post about the first version and the accompanying YouTube video I was amazed at the supportive comments. Most people it seemed were happy with copy of the lens, but there quite a few who definitely had problems with theirs and were unhappy. In my first write up I recommended the Panasonic Leica 100-400mm over the OM version. I had a few comments from people who had the opposite experience to mine and felt that they could not share my recommendation. It would seem that there is quite a lot of sample variation with camera lenses, although this is my first problem in this regard in 40 years of photography.
All I can suggest is that you be persistent with your dealer or local distributor if your lens doesn’t function like it should and work to a satisfactory resolution.
As to how I feel about the lens now I have a satisfactory copy. Well I’ve got some exciting trips lined up this year and the lens will be coming with me.
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