In Search of the Wompoo Fruit-Dove
October 2006
In Search of the Wompoo Fruit-Dove: Daintree National Park, Queensland
The field guide shows it’s gorgeous: soft green above with brilliant yellow and purple underparts and yellow wing patches. And we’ve been hearing its calls—“Wa-wak, ooooh”— from high in the canopy in every rainforest area we’ve visited in northern Queensland. It takes effort, luck, and a good location, though, to finally spot a Wompoo Fruit-Dove.
Hiking on the Jindalba Walk in Daintree National Park we see a large green dove flying and follow it with our binoculars until it lands. Then we see two more. We watch them as they feed high in a fruiting tree not far off the boardwalk, thrilled by their beautiful plumage colors. Armed with the right search-image, I have my next photo project.
Next morning, we arrive soon after 7:00, hoping to avoid the ever-present tour groups. While Peter heads off to do some sound recording, I lug my gear to the chosen spot. The forest is gloomy and dripping from last night’s rainfall. I set up and wait, and watch…and wait. As it gets lighter I start to hear the Wompoos calling, but it is forty minutes or so before I finally see one. But they’re not coming to yesterday’s spot so, shouldering my heavy gear, I head up the trail toward the calls.
Setting up the tripod again, I scan the canopy with my binoculars. Nothing. I move on. An hour passes, and eventually I see the tell-tail flurry of muted green wings. Two doves, almost obscured by the foliage, are walking around on the branches and feeding. While I watch, a third lands nearby. Suddenly the first two take off and fly straight toward me. To my surprise, one lands directly above my head. Hopefully the other is in a better position so, slowly picking up my gear and holding my breath, I back carefully away and move down the trail. Peering through the leaves, I struggle to locate the second dove. I find it fairly low down, but with distracting twigs around it. When it starts calling, such aesthetics suddenly are unimportant! I start shooting.
After several minutes the dove flies, landing even closer to me. Excited, but holding my breath again, I frantically drag the tripod up and down the trail, searching for the hole in the foliage that will give me a good view. Suddenly, there’s the bird—full frame! Not the best angle (I’m actually too close and shooting at a steep angle up at the bird) but a Wompoo Fruit-Dove nonetheless. I get three shots before I hear what I’ve been dreading: a noisy tour group approaching. They round the corner exclaiming, “That’s a big lens” (as if I didn’t know that!). The dove flies off and I sigh in exasperation. Such is life.