I stole quietly into Townsville’s tropical dawn, the songs of a brush cuckoo and olive-backed oriole drawing me forth, the two vocalizations so different yet now so familiar – the brush cuckoo...
The darkness of 6 a.m. arrived too early after a night during which Vilis and I awoke and pulled on track pants, socks, and sweaters for added warmth. The cold of Narawntapu National Park was so unexp...
