I think we were in Cheynes Beach when I looked over to Ross and said “I’m just not feeling inspired,” which was odd because we
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	birding the world on a budget
			
			
	I think we were in Cheynes Beach when I looked over to Ross and said “I’m just not feeling inspired,” which was odd because we
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	Ross told me I hadn’t seen the middle of nowhere yet until I’d seen the Gibber Plains.
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	This post is more about birds than it is how to be happy, but the two definitely go hand in hand…
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	We jokingly made a plan to celebrate ‘Crested Pigeon Appreciation Day’ as we drove off to Murray Sunset National Park to search for our real
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	There’s an island off the coast of Southeastern Australia known as Tasmania. Perhaps you’ve heard of it. Geographically and biologically isolated, Tasmania is known for
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	Ross told me this is a bird blog and people like to read about birds. But this isn’t any post about birds, it’s a post about why Ross sees more birds than me.
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	It wasn’t until his cargo pants had a gigantic slit in the knee (from a fall in the Barren Grounds), a slice down the backside from squeezing between barbed wire, and about 4 holes in the crotch on top of the regular holes at the bottom where he kicks his feet together, all paired with a red shirt sporting its own 8 holes, that I begged him to change his attire.
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	It was never a countdown on when we would fly to Australia, it was always a countdown like “nine more days those Regents need to hang” or “48 hours until we see the Regent Honeyeaters!”
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	When we visited Thailand in 2015, we met Dominic Le Croissette, a fellow birder, along a trail. He happened to be birding many of the
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	Losing a guy like Tom so young so suddenly is the kind of unspeakable tragedy that leaves everyone who knew him and loved him crumbling in the wake.
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