Australia overflows with beautiful birds. I’m finding it easy to sight interesting ones. I don’t seek them out, they just cross my path.

Bush turkeys are common, large birds, about the size of a small domestic turkey. They’re not afraid of humans, nor are they particularly interested in us. They just go about their business, wherever I find them.

I found this aggressive creature near the shore. We had gotten too close to its chicks, so it fluffed its wings out to look big and scary, and opened its beak to take a bite if needed. Check out the nasty yellow claws, one on each wing.

I carefully wrote down the identity of this fierce fellow, and then lost my note. I guess I get an “F” in birding. Anybody know this one?

I promise this is the last time I’ll mention ibis. Apparently in Australia they’re not so much exotic as pesty. They like to hang out in places where food is sold, and while they’re not pushy, they’re ready to jump on outdoor tables whenever diners leave.

This of course is not good for them, eating foods not part of their natural diet. So in some parks and malls, an advocacy group has placed stickers on outdoor tables.

I don’t know if this is an egret or a heron or if the name even matters. But I’ve noticed they have an affinity for cattle. They hang out in pasture, about one egret per steer. Usually they’re foraging in the pasture grass, but sometimes they roost on top of a cud-chewing animal.

One of the most spectacularly colored birds is the rainbow lorikeet. They seem to be everywhere. From my hotel balcony, squawking flocks of thousands of these birds swoop and circle at sunrise and sunset.

When the flock circles past in low evening light, a large patch of sky flashes green. The racket they make in nearby Moreton Bay fig trees sounds like a cocktail party.

Up close, we see the spectacular coloring in the lorikeet’s paint job.

I would love to see a Cassowary. I know they’re around because people make plaster statues of them. Australians like to make plaster statues of all kinds of stuff. Like giant shrimp, for example.

Highway signs warn of the presence of cassowaries so we won’t run over them. They’re big: they grow as tall as I am. They have terrible claws and if approached, can muster a ferocious attack, inflicting severe injuries.

I haven’t seen one in the wild yet. I’m not giving up, though it may require trekking with a guide—a lot more effort than I’m accustomed to. For now, I offer this photograph of a cassowary taken by a member of a bird watching organization.

Photo: Daintree Birdwatching

Weeks ago, when we were driving through the rain on the Lincoln Highway, I saw a wet, bedraggled bird with long tail feathers skitter across the highway, right in front of the car. Thankfully, I didn’t hit it. But I knew that I had seen the legendary lyrebird—specifically, a superb lyrebird. I didn’t take this photograph, but I actually saw one. So if, like a proper birder, I had a bird sighting checklist, it would count.

Photo: Khancoban Lakeside Caravan Resort

Lyrebirds are incredible mimics. They copy the calls of other birds and any other sounds they hear, including human-made ones. This David Attenborough BBC Wildlife clip will astound you. It’s worth following the link just to hear a lyrebird mimic a chain saw.