I began my Fijian birding adventure with a three-hour bus ride from Nadi to Pacific Harbour. Through the dusty windows I spotted Fiji Woodswallow weaving among coconut palms, Barking Imperial Pigeon perched in roadside guava, Red-vented Bulbul flitting through scrub and both Common and Jungle Mynas squabbling over passing insects. By the time we reached Pacific Harbour my notebook was already spilling over with names.
Eager for shorebird action beyond the hotel grounds I slipped small tips to anyone who could unlock the gate to a more remote beach. I had visions of Booby’s diving, Noddys circling overhead, Terns plunging for fish and herons stalking the shallows. Instead a solitary reef heron greeted me, standing on one leg like a patient sentry. It regarded me coolly as I crouched behind driftwood and snapped its portrait anyway.
Next I ventured upriver through the hotel’s tangled waterway system, stepping carefully over rickety wooden bridges and scanning the treetops for Collared Lory’s or other parrots. While balancing on a small jetty I caught sight of a tiny kingfisher darting from branch to branch, the Pacific Kingfisher’s cobalt back gleaming in the morning sun. Just then I heard a high-pitched screech cut through the still air. I followed the sound through a tangle of vines until I stumbled into a clearing and froze. A flock of masked shining parrots burst into view. Their faces were as dark as midnight, their wings a glossy green and their chests a vivid sunflower yellow that glowed against the foliage. Piercing red eyes regarded me as they chattered overhead and I felt like I had won the birding lottery.
The following day was perfect for shark diving. Rain pounded the deck but beneath the waves everything was sunlit and calm. Swimming alongside graceful reef sharks, Bull sharks and the occasional carpet shark, gave me a front-row seat to Fiji’s marine life and it turned out to be the ideal rainy-day escape.
The next day I chartered a boat to visit local reefs heading toward Bird Island. We kept a respectful distance so the shorebirds stayed undisturbed. It was a binocular-only outing since the ocean was choppy and rain threatened all day. We saw Noddy’s and Terns plunging for fish but the elusive Booby’s stayed hidden. We even squeezed in a quick snorkel among the fringing coral before heading back to shore.
After that boat cruise I explored the hotel’s river system again. I crossed freshly mown fields where children played football, then snuck closer to catch another flash of blue. Vanikoro Flycatcher flitted among ferns, a Spotted Dove cooed softly from a low branch and an imperial barking pigeon strutted across a sunlit log, yes it really does bark. A few western wattled honeyeaters buzzed through the canopy, their brush-like beaks probing blossoms.
The next day I rafted down the Upper Navua River with Moses, a guide who has navigated those rapids for twenty-eight years and can spot birds from a mile away. Between thunderous rapids we heard duetting giant honeyeaters calling from the canopy, saw Fiji goshawk soaring overhead and counted Pacific reef herons stalking the shallows. Masked shining parrots flew past again, Pacific black ducks drifted on calm pools and even a lone mallard paddled by. White-rumped swiftlets skimmed the surface and Pacific swallows lined up on fallen branches. All day the barking imperial pigeons made themselves heard in the trees. And yes I only fell off the raft once, which I like to think added to the drama.
Sunburnt, mosquito-bitten and grinning ear to ear I returned with sandy shoes, blossom-stained gear and enough feathered memories to last a lifetime. Extreme birding in Fiji was part adventure, part slapstick and all heart. Next time I will remember to pack extra socks.
