I had visited Sultanpur two times previously, each visit being completely motivated by my longing to see this smart shorebird, (this desire being further strengthened every time I would recall that one of my best friends from the UK had already got this one 'up on me' some years before). On each occasion a local had sidled up to me and offered up near guarantees of the courser, that would then turn sour when we left bereft and empty-handed. On this final occasion I had just finished a private tour with a couple of excellent Dutch birders (before which I had also tried and missed the courser at Sultanpur), and had a morning free before my flight out of Delhi, so could not resist one more crack at the courser. As so often happens in birding, you break your neck trying to see it and failing, but when it does come the sighting is all too easy and makes you wonder if the earlier legwork was really ever going to be necessary. On this day I pulled up to the same set of fields that I had worked several times before. Some of these were awash with tall yellow mustard flowers, while others were more barely vegetated. It was these latter ones I focused my attentions on - perfect courser habitat. As I began my walk out past the thickly vegetated (and seemingly unsuitable), mustard fields I thought I'd have a brief scan of the near bare fields, and immediately found my eyes had homed in on a striking white supercilium running around the field. Cursing the fact that I'd been so pessimistic of getting the courser that I had left my digiscoping gear in the car, I frantically backtracked with barely a glance at the bird under the belt. It was only when I began walking back to the field, this time armed with the gear I should have had with me in the first place, I started to realize that I had shamefully only given the courser the briefest of looks before running for my camera. A feeling of dread rose in my gut as I realized that I should have really made the most of that fantastic chance as I might now get back to find a bare, courserless field, and I had just chucked a perfectly good sighting away in the pursuit of the 'digital dream' (i.e. a photo). My dread was soon in check though as a sweep with the bins revealed not just one courser but three regularly tipping themselves to feed in the sparsely vegetated field. Well the digital dream of a good photo never came, although getting the species full stop was sweet enough, especially after having suffered a run around or two first!