Though sadly we had to keep a little track so as to book another four days to add to our original three.

Suffice to say we haven't tired of seeing something new every day.

We awoke to see a couple of white ibis.

Not quite relaxed, still restless, we feel compelled to "do something".

So we hatch a plan to visit the ends of the park where it meets the lake.

Strangely (to us) the lake is not part of the national park. Just a limited part of the northern shoreline. The park is to protect remnants of brigalow forest. But more of that later.

A brief detour to investigate a heap of bird noise in a small thicket of trees.

Choughs.

From here on its cattle tracks along the shoreline.

With the unmistakable shape of a parrot atop one of the dead trees. A pale headed rosella.

I say unmistakable, and how easily I say it. But isn't it nice to say.

I can tell.

My cataract free eyes are a vast improvement.

Straw necked this time.

Despite realising the cattle tracks are substantial, with lots of cattle movement, I wasn't quite prepared for the more than one hundred herd.

They stood their ground well as the intrepid walker approached.

Wary of anything threatening I continued my advance. Until at about 20m distance some of the rear of the herd began to move.

A few more steps and those nearest decided to walk away.

Phew (if you'll forgive the pun).

And so, for the next km or so along the lakeside, an unruly procession of cattle leading me further away from camp.

One never knows, I remained wary, keeping a convenient tree in sight, ready to hide behind in case of a change of mood.

Though in all seriousness I would probably run. Away.

In the distance, across the waters of green lagoon, I had to watch for the unmistakable sideways to and fro of feeding spoonbills.

Royal spoonbills, their bills are blue (not yellow).

I saw the emus in the background when I looked at all the pics back at camp. There were five passers by.

So they did what all spoonbills do when upset, and really all birds, they flew away.

But I'm used to it now, so I took a pic.

I really will have to improve my bird watching technique.

For some reason there are large numbers in just this sheltered spot.

There's all sorts in this pic besides the spoonbills.

A couple of stilts, magpie larks, swans, and the usual variety of ducks.

Mt Warrinilla to the left.

This is more like cleared, trampled, and eaten, pasture than pristine forest in a national park.

I didn't find a fence, either on this or subsequent expeditions to the edge.

Gradually, more clouds, some breeze, and changing light.

There they are again to begin a new day.

We think "mum, dad, and the kid".

The Esplanade non-existent.

..... we think, a rufous whistler.

Part of the reason it took a long while to return from the outer eastern reaches of the park at least a km back to camp.

All sorts of little birds in the trees either side of the road. Birds that don't stay still long enough for a pic, and deliberately hide behind leaves.

We are slowly realising there are many of the different bottle trees in the park. Mostly solitary.

Humans are as interesting in their behaviour as ducks and other birds.

Just that we refrain from mentioning it, beyond exceptional circumstances.

We thought perhaps "poetic justice" for flying a drone in a national park.

Many thoughts crossed our mind. Perhaps we should have helped and provided encouragement. Then again, perhaps we should be a bit miffed on behalf of the wildlife that had been disturbed.

His wife supervised the recovery. I refrained from sidling up to her and taking the mickey ........ though it could have been fun ..... 

At least we now know how deep, and cold, the lake is. Apparently up to 9m deep.