I’d been looking for the damn bird for more than 30 years and was increasingly inclined to doubt its existence. But what the hell: let’s have another dart for the African pitta. It looks like a badly drawn blackbird coloured in by a child with a brand new box of felt-tips. Apparently.

It hides in the riverine forests of the Luangwa Valley in Zambia just after the rains come, and it tells the world when it’s there with a radiophonic whoop. So there we were on the Mushilashi Bridge listening hard. Whooop! Well, that’s the easy bit done.

We entered the forest on foot, Esco the scout leading the way and keeping us safe. After a while it was clear that we had found a bird that exists in voice alone: audible but forever invisible. We spent a long time creeping through the forest, looking for an invisible bird that could throw its voice like a ventriloquist.

But there was deep longing among us: a soul-deep desire to see the damn thing, not just to add it to the list but share a wood with a bird that is at the same time charismatic and elusive, flamboyant and retiring, gorgeous and coy. We wanted to share the secret of the pitta.

After 40 minutes or so of creeping, guided erratically by the occasional whoop, I was well prepared for disappointment. As many times before. But I had reckoned without Fanwell and Francis, two determined men. And also the longing that existed throughout the party.

It was like a conjuring trick: all in a moment the bird was bewilderingly close. Francis could see it but nobody else. Well, I’m always the last one to see a well-hidden bird, and I was resigned to missing out, but this time I had reckoned without the pitta. Pittas like to perch on wide branches about 20 feet up and whoop. This one did all of that, but I saw it not. And then I did – for pittas have the most obliging habit of making a little jump into the air as they whoop. And it’s always movement that attracts the eye.

I’m here, you eejit! And bloody hell, so it was: as lovely and as funky a bird as you’ll see anywhere in the world, a secret revealed to us all. The light was kind and the colours were clear: black and cream and green picked out with iridescent spots of kingfisher blue, all set off by the bright red underneath. Whooop!

And then it was gone and it was all hugs and high fives and a damp eye or two as well. We drove back high as a flock of kites. None of us could explain to non-birders what such moments are all about: but half a second in our company would have given a clue.

Joy. Whooop!

• I was travelling with Wildlife Worldwide. More trips https://wildlifeworldwide.cmail20.com/t/y-e-xididdd-thukydkiuh-r/