On the last morning of our Thailand tour Polly and Paul celebrated their 4,000th bird.
Well, they celebrated too soon. When everything was entered up on the computer it turned out that the true total was 3,999. Ouch. That had to be remedied and the opportunity soon presented itself in the form of a King Eider at Cape Cod Canal. So they jumped on a plane, I’ll let Polly take up the story …
We impatiently picked up the rental car and headed for the canal. We arrived at the parking lot just as a flock of Eider flew from Herring Run. After listening to a birder/photographer tell us what she had witnessed of the birds’ behavior we went back to the car drove a short distance. We told ourselves that after the flights we needed a nice brisk walk and hurried in the direction the flock had flown. Soon the granite jetty was as tall as we were thereby blocking our view of the canal. We climbed up to the top and continued our quest. The jetty was very stable and we soon discovered most of the slabs had been cut with a flat top. As we made our way we had, of course, to stop and take quick looks at each bird we saw. We passed a great many Common Loon Red-breasted Merganser, Black and Surf Scoter. It was such a treat to see so many of these birds in breeding plumage. We paid special attention to the Common Eider. As we approached the mouth our pulses quickened while our spirits dipped. We stayed close to the mouth for around 20 minutes and then realized as 5:30 approached we were probably not going to see the bird that day. We made the difficult decision to go grab some dinner and a pint of stout. It was only then that we realized we had had no food for over 24 hours. We had skipped breakfast, there was no meal on the first flight, not enough time on our Chicago layover and only a tiny bag of pretzels on the second flight! We would have to cross all our fingers and all our toes and hope it would stick around for another day. Paul was ahead of me, he had just made it to the sand and was turning to give me a hand. I was on the last boulder and debating whether to sit down and slide to ground. The next thing I knew I was falling, face down, onto the sand. I landed forehead first….a “graceful” face plant. Dizzy and dazed, slightly nauseated I tied to get up. A family close by had witnessed it and came to help. I was protesting that it was okay and would be all right, but as I tried to stand up I could not put weight on my left leg. Paul and I just could not grasp what was happening. One of the women offered to have her husband drive Paul back to our rental car. She her friends and children stayed with me. She kept asking how I was, checked my pulse and pupils. I finally managed to say “you have to be in a medical profession.” She smiled and said she was a Registered Nurse. When Paul and her husband arrived with our car. Her husband and her friends’ husband made a basket of their arms and “fireman carried” me to the car. They told us there was a hospital very close by and gave us quick directions, then programmed our google maps, handed me a bottle of water and offered to escort us to Beth Israel Deaconess Medical. We said we could get there, that they had already done so much. She would not let us leave until we promised that we would go straight to the ER. By this time we both knew we had no choice. Tears streaming down my face, feeling such a fool off we went.
The diagnosis – fractured pelvis. Polly spent three days in hospital where an international lineup of staff looked after her brilliantly. The airline rescheduled her trip home with no fuss and at little extra charge but there was one thing left to do …
we hatched a plan…get me out of the hospital as early as possible and go for the bird on our way to the airport. We asked the Ortho Doc if that would be okay. He said “no boulder climbing”. One of nurses was a beginning birder and was so excited…Wednesday was her day off and she was going to try for it then too!
We left the hospital at 10:00 and headed for the canal. Paul parked the car and went to scout. He came back breathless and excited. He had not gone far enough to see it, but had seen photographers and spotting scopes. We hurriedly got me transferred to my wheelchair headed to the spot. There was the King Eider in all his breeding splendor! We told the others there a very short version of our tale and one of them volunteered to take pictures of us. After about a half hour of continued viewing we were getting ready to go when we heard a familiar voice, it was Ellie the RN, and beginning birder. We got her on the bird, visited a little and headed toward Boston and the long journey home.
The tour ran from February 19, 2017 until March 7. The southern extension kicked off the next day and finished on the 13th.
The leaders were Uthai Treesucon and Keith Valentine and they were excellent.
The itinerary and accommodation were well chosen, transport was handled well. The food was good.
A group size of twelve could present problems but Rockjumper briefs participants on etiquette and on this occasion things ran very smoothly. How the organisation might have handled a crisis was never put to the test.
It is a hardcore birding tour, if your spouse is not a keen birder it would be tough for them. There is no associates program, days are long, the focus is intense. And for the birder very productive. The final tally for the tour was over 500 species, I saw 471 different birds and some good mammals. If you carry a camera you will bring back some very nice photos but it’s not the tour for the dedicated bird photographer the tempo is quite different from their requirements. One of the group has put a very large collection of their photos up <HERE>. If you’re preparing for a trip you could test your diagnostic skills on them.
So to mark Rockjumper’s report card … A+. I’ve already booked another tour. The next one is to Bhutan. What about the participants?
Most were repeat Rockjumper clients which says something about the company. The guys were gentlemen bird watchers, always polite, tolerant and cooperative. The girls on the other hand … I don’t know how many times I found myself examining the backs of their head through my binoculars. No, I exaggerate the group was remarkably congenial. There were tales of other trips and a lot of good humour. We were occasionally entertained by the sayings of Polly’s Mum one of which was …
If you’re looking for sympathy you’ll find it in the dictionary between shit and syphilis …
which is well worth remembering.
It is axiomatic that …
There is an arsehole in every group and
They are totally unconscious of the fact.
So it follows that if you can’t identify the arsehole it must be you.
I therefore tender my apologies to the fine men and women that I traveled with. I enjoyed it.
Tigers to the left, Possums to the right. The distance between Bali and Lombok is just 25 km but Asia’s woodpeckers, barbets and trogons are on one side, Australasia’s honeyeaters and cockatoos on the other. Huxley’s modification to the line tidies up a few problems, an excellent example being the genus Pachycephala, a literal translation – thick heads, more flatteringly known these days as the Whistlers. There are 32 species (following the Handbook of Birds of the World in this instance) and all of them are found to the east of Huxley’s version of Wallace’s Line.
When an Australians go birding in Asia they are confronted with not just with new species but whole new families. It can get confusing.
I’d been in Thailand for three weeks. New species were raining down the whole time. It was possible that I was missing the derisive laughter of the Kookaburra or my wife, or maybe the scent of eucalyptus. We were birding in the mangroves when I saw it, a little Aussie expat. It warmed the cockles of my heart springs …
I’ve seen Golden Whistler and Rufous Whistler in my own back yard and six other species in Australia. Some Whistlers have made it way out into the Pacific to the islands of New Caledonia, Tonga and Samoa but only one species straddles the mere 25 km that separate Lombok and Bali, the Mangrove Whistler. And it didn’t stop there, it can be found all the way up the Malayan Peninsula and then along the Asian coast from Vietnam to India.
Our last patch of lowland forest, Sri Phang Nga National Park spans 246 square kilometres along a range of hills parallel to the Andaman Sea coast. It is just part of a larger forest which is big enough to sustain Great Hornbill, White-handed Gibbon and Dusky Langur. The forest is on a grand scale but access is limited , it is worth an extended visit but be prepared to cover the same ground repeatedly, although the nature of tropical birding is such that your encounters will be varied because of the high diversity of species and low density of most individuals.
Let me whet your appetite …
Streams in the park hold a diverse range of fish, tossing in a little food can bring a spectacular response.
Day time birding in Khao Nor Chuchi was fairly good but it was the night birds that quickened the pulse.
One way or another birds had provided the locals with a small income for a long time. Initially it was by trapping for the cage bird trade, still quite big in Thailand, and when that became unfashionable money could be made taking the punters to see Gurney’s Pitta. That no longer pays but there is still a wealth of local knowledge that can be put to good use. The compulsive twitcher wants to come back from their trip with the biggest possible list and owls are among the hardest birds to find. They tend to use day time roosts repeatedly so if you know where they are you’re in business.
It meant that we were in the forest from before dawn to well after dark. One evening our targets were well beyond the reach of our minibuses so we transferred to a couple of 4WDs, one a nice new Prado, the other a ute. There were 12 paying passengers, two guides plus the local talent who would show us the birds. The Prado seated five, the ute seated two, the remaining nine traveled some very rough terrain in or almost in the tray. There are people who imagine that bird watching is dull.
In the space of a couple of nights we had good views of Brown Wood Owl and Blyth’s Frogmouth. The highlight for me was an encounter with a Colugo. Something collided with a tree close by. Playing the spotlight on the source of the noise revealed a mammal climbing the trunk. It would move both fore feet then both hind feet, it was quite quick but not particularly graceful because its progress was hindered by folds of membrane that were too large to fit completely beneath it …
The commentator calls them little but they can weigh up to 1.3 kg. The ability to glide has emerged independently in several distinct groups of mammals, the Colugos are the most accomplished of them and also the most closely related to ourselves. They are in the Euarchonta as are the primates.
As well as night birds by night we also saw a couple at their daytime roost, the Spotted Wood Owl and Barred Eagle Owl. They are both very shy and will bolt readily. We were conducted singly and with great stealth to see them half obscured in dense foliage. When everybody had taken a look the guides gave a sigh of relief and we all relaxed. At that point a youngster that had clearly not read the manual presented itself for a photo …
This one, Doi Angkhang where we would spend two and a half days.
For two countries with so much in common they seem surprisingly distrustful of each other …
It is otherwise a very pleasant mountain resort as well as a home for four different hill tribes. One of the King’s Projects is situated here and is a splendid botanical garden, both a wonderful tourist destination and a research facility trialing exotic crops that will thrive at altitude and offer something other than opium and illegal logging as sources of income for the local people.
The very first night there we were led on a quest for the Mountain Scops Owl by the indomitable Uthai. Clinging to a cliff side in the depths of the jungle in pitch darkness and guided only by its call Uthai, against all odds, was able to bring a spotlight to bear on this elusive and desirable creature. I would have brought you a photograph but I was clinging to a tree with one hand and fending off the snakes with the other.
But the following morning I had a much easier time taking photographs of more confiding birds …