28th December 1969

The next morning we stop at a roadhouse for breakfast just north of the deserted northern New South Wales township of Ballina, then turn off at Bangalow to go and take a look at Byron Bay. The day is hot, and the engine boils on the way, so we have to wait for an hour or so for the water to cool. We are on a rise and there is an excellent view of the whole coast to the north and to the ranges, including the steep rainforest-covered volcanic plug called Mt Warning. 

The engine cools, and we add more water, and shortly come to a patch of dense green rainforest on the top of a hill. The air is heavy with humidity, and recent rains have brought the place alive. Birds are calling prolifically, and spider webs glisten in the morning sun. The forest smells dank and earthy. As we drive through I see that though it is still early in the morning there are already numerous subtropical species of butterflies flying around out there. We find a place to park the car at the other end of the patch of forest and quickly I get out and assemble the net. I can see Nysa Jezabels Delias nysa, Pearl Whites Elodina egnatia angulipennis, heaps of Eurema spp. Grass Yellows, of which several species are flying past. Eastern Flats Netrocoryne repanda repanda are zipping about, and god knows what else is flying. I can't get to them fast enough! I go into an empty field and walk up to the Lantana camara-protected margin of this seemingly magical rain forest, and start to collect butterflies to my hearts content. It is hot work as I am fair in the full blast of the hot morning sun. I look up just in time to see a huge butterfly fly over my head about 8 metres up and flying rapidly uphill towards the road, flashing blue and green. With utter disbelief I recognise it instantly - it's a Richmond Birdwing, Ornithoptera richmondia! (This species was at the time treated as a subspecies of Ornithoptera priamus). I scream out "A Birdwing! A Richmond Birdwing!" as I chase after it as fast as I can.

It reaches the road, and turns into the tunnel made by the trees overhanging the road, and amazingly it flies along the road, the way we had came. It slows down, and gradually flies lower, and stops to feed at the nectar of some white flowers, but frustratingly still too high for my net. It seems almost nonchalantly uncaring of my net as it flops at speed over to another flower on another high plant, and I gaze at its wondrous colours as it flutters its iridescent green and velvet black wings tantalizingly. Even as it moves from flower to flower, I have to run to keep up. Does it know I am here? Does it realise that it is being chased? Will I be able to catch it? Its natural in-built poison gives it confidence that no bird will touch it. My racing heartbeat does not slow down, I am so full of adrenaline, and I try to wish it down to within reach of my net.

My father and brother follow at a distance, watching the chase bemusedly, and though not sharing much of my interest they cannot but help be affected by my excitement. Clearly I am onto something very special.

It was off again, flying down the exact centre of the road - flop, glide, flop then glide. I hear warnings being shouted from the rear to watch out for cars. Cars? What cars? Drivers will just have to watch out for me, won't they! I had a Birdwing to catch!

Birdwing and I are heading towards the other end of the patch of forest. It flies lower, gradually, gradually, as I continue to run after it. I began to think that it is going to get away from me. Then it comes lower still, at last near swinging range. I begin to swing my net at it, but maddeningly it is still flies mere centimeters higher than I can reach, as if to taunt me. But with a particularly close near-miss it finally dawns on the creature what is happening and it begins to accelerate away, flapping madly. But I have already compensated, and my next swing falls true, and it is literally in the bag. I collapse onto the roadway literally in a screaming heap, panting and exhausted with the effort, and quickly stop it from flapping and damaging its wings by pinching its thorax. It's absolutely glorious, in virtually mint condition. I can hardly believe this has happened, I have actually caught the very first Birdwing that I have ever seen! Wow! This is the one butterfly that I wanted the most from this trip, I never dreamed that I would actually catch one, and now I had it in my trembling hand. I proudly show it to my brother and my father Cecil. Even they were surprised at its size and colours, and were caught up with my excitement. I hold it in my hand, still pinching its thorax as it was still alive, as my father takes some 8mm colour movie film of me holding it. I take it back to the car and carefully put it away safely, then promptly return to the forest.

Very soon, a female birdwing turns up, flying slowly right towards me! I am still wearing a red jumper quite unnoticed despite the humidity and heat, it having been cool earlier in the morning. It's strongly attracting to the red colour, just as I had read about in one of my butterfly books! I catch it, all too easily, and also several other females that also approach, but most are in very poor condition and these I happily released.

I catch some of the other butterfly species, which are prolific. The place is magical. As the heat of the day increases, the butterflies retreat into the forest, and I can see yet another male Birdwing, but way, way out of reach amongst the vines and palms, and a mass of dense impenetrable Lantana camara borders the whole forest edge, preventing easy access. Though I would have liked another male, I was more than happy with the representative specimens I already had, and I went away with that spot marked forever in my mind.

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Author's Postscripts:

(1). During the early 1980's when I was more actively involved in the conservation of insect habitats, I telephoned officers in the National Parks and Wildlife Service of New South Wales to advise of the existence of this patch of rainforest and its birdwing butterfly inhabitants. Unfortunately, the people I spoke to appeared to be either disinterested in the butterfly and the smallness of the site, or were sympathetic but had insufficient resources to do anything about it. However, I believe this site has since been incorporated in their protected-estate holdings. Despite some of the recent well-meaning but scientifically unsupportable claims to the adverse in various local papers etc, I have found in the intervening years since 1969 that this butterfly is not even remotely endangered, as anyone with a video camera can attest. I have observed and videoed them flying commonly in such numbers myself. In fact, at certain times, it is the commonest butterfly species one will see e.g. in Border Ranges National Park. Fortunately, most of its rainforest habitat is now protected in National Parks or similar reserves, so most of its extant populations in NSW are protected in any case. In Queensland, the butterfly's populations are more than well-protected in existing National Parks.

At the time I notified the NPWS of NSW, I was very concerned for the future of this particular population at Byron Bay and all the other forest inhabitants and plants therein, as it was a very small patch of rainforest which had somehow escaped the almost total clearing of the districts' forests by early settlers. Obviously, the existence of a thriving population of this butterfly at the site spurred me on to try to do something to save the site.

(2) Remember, the above occurred in 1969. I was just 16, and it was quite an adventure to travel the long 1000km or so distance from Sydney to Brisbane (which was then nothing more than a large country town) on the then winding, dangerous single-lane roads and highways. My being too young to drive at the time, my father was the driver and had kindly offered to take my brother and I on a butterfly hunting trip. It was my first long-distance entomological adventure. Most towns and villages were in decline, and many places that are now very popular tourist attractions were isolated blips in a largely rural and forested region.

(4). Perhaps one day I can digitise the appropriate segment of the 8mm movie film that I mentioned and include it here.

(5). My apologies for the omission of species author names in the above description, clearly they would be out of place in such a prose narrative.