KEY POINTS:
As we approached the Heron Island resort in the Great Barrier Reef, it looked as if there was a cloud of smoke seething out of the island.
But when we got closer the cloud resolved itself into a huge flock of birds, hundreds of them, surging out of the trees, swirling to and fro over the sea, then eddying back into the foliage.
And when we walked down the wharf into the resort itself, a cluster of buildings surrounded by giant pisonia trees, sheoaks and sandpaper figs, there were even more birds.
Many were sitting in their nests, the adults burbling away with their distinctive clacking call, the juveniles producing a more high-pitched version.
Others were in flight, heading to sea or returning from fishing trips, swooping around the trees or diving in kamikaze fashion down the resort pathways.
We newcomers to the island kept dodging for fear of being speared by one of these feathered javelins, but the older hands strode ahead boldly, knowing that the birds were skilful enough to avoid collisions.
On the other hand, within 30 seconds of arriving I had a white smear down my shirt-front from a bird perched on the edge of its nest.
These are black noddy terns, 70,000 to 100,000 of which visit Heron Island each summer to breed, which, since the island is only 17ha in size, means they are everywhere.
Cleaning my teeth in our suite, I counted 14 noddies sitting on nests just outside the tiny louvred window.
As we strolled around the resort, we found courtyards and footpaths packed with birds sitting in the sun and seemingly nodding to each other - hence the name - but actually shaking their heads to clear their desalination glands.
Male noddies evidently choose a mate by setting off on a sort of follow-the-leader flight, picking the one who most closely copies his aerobatics.
But the females get their own back when it comes to nest-making because the males have to bring in the building materials and the females decide what to use.
Shelley, who took us on the resort's daily Bird Walk round the island, explained: "The females are very selective because the nest has to be able to survive for several months, and they often reject the first dozen or more leaves the male brings in." And, sure enough, all around were birds picking up twigs and leaves, then heading home to their wives.
On the walk we also discovered that while the noddies are the most prominent animals on the island, the place is teeming with all sorts of wildlife.
Along most of the paths and on just about every piece of broken ground are warning signs proclaiming, "Mutton bird burrow".
That's because some 30,000 wedge-tailed shearwaters also come to Heron Island for the warm months to breed, and the island is riddled with their nesting burrows. On neighbouring Wilson Island, where there are lots of pandanus plants, the mutton birds just nest under the roots and you can see the parents sitting on their nests.
Each day one of the parents heads to sea to collect food and the homecoming celebration each evening is quite extraordinary (and loud enough for the resort to provide guests with earplugs).
"Those lovely noises you hear at night," said Shelley, "are the mutton bird equivalent of `Hello dear, have a nice day? How was the fishing?' and so on."
The dialogue the birds produce starts off as quite musical and mellow, with one cooing and the other responding, but unfortunately they get louder and louder, gradually rising to a crescendo which, as Shelley put it, "sounds like a cat being strangled".
Then there are the buff-banded rails which stalk the resort looking for scraps. We were having a quiet ale in the Pandanus Lounge one afternoon when a particularly cheeky rail hopped up on to our table, peered hopefully inside the glasses and snapped up a few crumbs on the tabletop.
Other birds easy to spot are silvereyes, kingfishers, crested terns, brown boobies, lesser golden plovers and bar-tailed godwits.
On Wilson Island there are also bridled terns, black-naped terns and roseat terns - rare enough for the island to be closed to visitors in February to leave the birds free to breed - and there are also regular visits from sea eagles and frigate birds.
Ironically, in this birdwatcher's paradise, the birds which gave Heron Island its name are no longer there. Well, to be fair, they are there, they're just not called herons any more but egrets - eastern reef egrets to be precise - whose plumage can be either grey or white.
But, despite the absence of herons, there are no plans to change the island's name. Noddy Island or Booby Island wouldn't have quite the same cachet.
