Macroflight by Microlight

Flight to the Tundra:

Follow one woman’s flightpath along the route of the Red-necked stint…

‘Since April 2016, I have been learning to pilot a microlight aircraft with the intention to fly the migratory route of the Red-necked stint from Australia to Siberia to promote urgent action for shorebird conservation…’


More about Amellia Formby and her extraordinary project at

800px-calidris_ruficollis_-_marion_bayRed-necked stint in non-breeding plumage

Image courtesy JJ Harrison- Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0,


calidris_ruficollis_summer_plumageRed-necked stint in breeding plumage

Image courtesy Alpsdake – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0,


Flying for Life

Flying for their lives:

‘Every year, millions of shorebirds fly between Australasia and the Arctic. But for many, this will be their last flight…’

Take an extraordinary journey along the East Asian-Australasian Flyway with Ann Jones.

Article and images at

The strangeness of flight:

…You stand there
by the strangeness…
…you stare like an animal into
the blinding clouds
with the snapped chain of your life,
the life you know:
the deeply affectionate earth,
the familiar landscapes
slowly turning
thousands of feet below.

from Flying by Mary Oliver



FAMILY Scolopacidae:

‘The whimbrels, sea curlews, godwits, sandpipers, turnstones, dowitchers, snipes, knots, stints, phalaropes etc, a large group of small to moderately large shorebirds, mainly breeding in cooler parts of the northern hemisphere and wintering on southern hemisphere coasts, wetlands and grassy plains…’

…definition from the Handbook of Western Australian Birds Volume I, RE Johnstone & GM Storr, WA Museum 1998

Sandpiper/Burung kedidi. From the Farquhar Collection 1803-1818, National Museum of Singapore

Sandpiper/Burung kedidi

An illustration from Natural History Drawings: The Complete William Farquhar Collection, Malay Peninsula 1803-1818 (Editions Didier Millet & National Museum of Singapore, 2010)

Sandpiper by Elizabeth Bishop

The roaring alongside he takes for granted,
and that every so often the world is bound to shake.
He runs, he runs to the south, finical, awkward,
in a state of controlled panic, a student of Blake.

The beach hisses like fat. On his left, a sheet
of interrupting water comes and goes
and glazes over his dark and brittle feet.
He runs, he runs straight through it, watching his toes.

– Watching, rather, the spaces of sand between them
where (no detail too small) the Atlantic drains
rapidly backwards and downwards. As he runs,
he stares at the dragging grains.

The world is a mist. And then the world is
minute and vast and clear. The tide
is higher or lower. He couldn’t tell you which.
His beak is focussed; he is preoccupied,

looking for something, something, something.
Poor bird, he is obsessed!
The millions of grains are black, white, tan, and gray
mixed with quartz grains, rose and amethyst.

Listen to the poem here (an audio-link should appear but can be a bit erratic):

In for the long-haul:

Annually the red-necked stint (about 35 grams) migrates twice as far as a humpback whale (about 35,000 kilograms),  despite being one millionth of its size…

…noted in Shorebirds 2020 Newsletter, December 2013,

Red-necked stint migration route. Image courtesy Nrg800 via Wikimedia Commons.

Red-necked stint migration route

Red-necked stint. Image courtesy JJ Harrison via Wikimedia Commons.

Red-necked stint

Images courtesy Nrg800 and JJ Harrison via Wikimedia Commons

Birds, feathers

Red caps Morley 26 Dec

Morley Beach is all glinting shallows today. It’s a long way from Pak Thale, where Flightpath: Thailand will make landfall in a few weeks.

Morley Beach is part of wide and wild Wilson Inlet near Denmark, on Western Australia’s south coast; here are muddy sandflats fringed with samphire groundcover and paperbark forest. Pak Thale is on the busy waters of the Gulf of Bangkok;  there, there are saltpans, mudflats, mangroves. For migratory shorebirds, both places offers a rest and refuelling stop on their annual long-haul flight.

feet and boots

A solitary greenshank calls alarm and takes off. Small flocks of resident red-capped plovers run and stop, run and stop along the receding waterline. Summer visitors are arriving –  at the moment there are sharp-tailed sandpipers, greater sand plovers, tiny red-necked stints. For the next few weeks they will rest, feed and bulk-up here, before developing breeding plumage and beginning the long journey, via the countries of the East Asian-Australasian flyway, back to their Arctic nesting grounds together.

My Great Aunt by Roland Leach

My great aunt was always looking for a husband.

She had a few and left them all. Attracted to water,

the distance it offered. She was good at loving

from a distance. My great aunt was always looking.

She was a good looker. Took a steamer out of

Liverpool for the islands of the East, imagining

them still as spice islands. Took men of all creed and colour.

Didn’t mind a risk my great aunt, could always find

a racetrack. Fell in love with a young naturalist on board,

grey-coated and too occupied with the flight of birds

to notice her. She liked that. Didn’t like fawning men.

Just attracted to water and distance.

She had her way though. Lured the poor man

in dresses soft as butterfly wings, the colour of macaws,

pretending she was in flight, which she was.

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