TREES Company

From a distance....we watched....emitting sighs of frustration. 


Frustration because the birds were quite far even for our long lenses. Frustration because the birds we hoped to see were a no-show. Yet despite these, the sighs of frustration were only of minor consequence compared to the delight of the company we shared. The passage of time becomes a blur when you are with friends who share the same passion with you.


We were at the "deck" next to the TREES (Tropical REsources and Ecosystems Sustainability) Hostel in the campus of the University of the Philippines in Los Banos (UPLB). 


It all started when our dear friend Maia reported in her blog that the ficus trees near the hostel were now fruiting (and therefore attracting a lot of birds). That certainly perked our interest. It turned out that we were not the only ones. Monday afternoon we got a text message from fellow bird photographer and good friend, Tina Mallari. She wanted to know if we would like to join her at UPLB early Tuesday morning. We of course said yes. I then contacted Prof. Tirso Paris who resides close to the UPLB. He promised to meet us at the TREES hostel grounds.


For about three hours all four of us: Tina, Prof. Tirso, Cynthia and myself watched the fruiting trees but were frustrated by the non-appearance of the hoped for Luzon Hornbills. Thankfully the tall dead tree next to the ficus was where the action was. It was like a relay station where one species would perch, spend a few minutes, then fly off - only to be replaced by another species - sometimes consisting of more than one individual. Now let me explain here that the said dead tree was very tall, therefore the birds that perched on it were practically dots on our camera viewfinders - despite the 500mm lenses that Tina and I were using.


The first group were the noisy balicassiaos, calling raucously, their glossy dark feathers glowing in the early morning sun.

As the Balicassiaos left, the endemic Guaiaberos made their appearance.

The tiny green birds were replaced by the Coppersmith Barbets giving out their monotonous hammering call. The Barbets were the frequent occupiers of this particular dead tree. They would return to the tree every now and then and oftentimes bullying whoever was at that place at that particular time.

The Stripe-headed Rhabdornis came next - only when the Barbets were out of sight.

Finally, a lifer! I didn't realize it until we were already home and I was checking our photographs. When I first saw it, I thought it was the Grey-streaked Flycatcher. But Grey-streaked Flycatchers are migrants - was the thought that kept bothering me. So when I looked at the Kennedy Guide, I realized that what I saw was actually a Striped Flowerpecker. There were indeed a huge flock of flowerpeckers feasting on the fruits of the ficus tree. I saw Orange-bellied and Red-keeled among them. It is very likely then that one of those could be a Striped Flowerpecker. My suspicion was further confirmed by our friend, Adri Constantino, when I showed him the photo I took.

It was half-past ten and still no signs of the Luzon Hornbills. Having had our fill of the company of birds in the TREES parking area, Prof. Tirso suggested we go to IRRI next and see what it has in store for us birdwise.

Going for the Keel

Bird photographers are, generally speaking, a persistent sort. If they failed to accomplish a mission the first time around, they will try again. As long as an opportunity to take a picture of a particular bird presents itself, they will be there. Sometimes that persistence pays off, sometimes not.


Bird photographers are, generally speaking, not easily discouraged. If they fail to photograph a target bird they will shift their focus (pun intended) on another species. Bird photography, after all, is almost always a challenge - something that bird photographers, generally speaking, crave for.


A very good example was what happened to a trio of bird photographers last Saturday. For Neon, Bong and myself, the desire to capture the image of a male Narcissus Flycatcher still burned deeply in our photographic souls. We failed in our first attempt about a week ago. Persistent folks that we are, we were back at the area next to the Main Library of the University of the Philippines in Diliman hoping that our luck would change.


It didn't.


Bird photographers are, generally speaking, quite adept at making lemon juice out of sour lemons. During our vain vigil for the vagrant flycatcher, there were occasions when we turned the proverbial lemons into lemon juice. There was the time when our better halves (who accompanied us into this birding foray) spotted a Coppersmith Barbet nearby. Lenses were aimed and shutters clicked at the colorful bird.  

Then there was the focusing challenge presented by a flock of frolicking Flyeaters.

Or compensating for the backlit image of a Long-tailed Shrike grabbing a lizard by the head.

The real adventure came later though. When we were pretty much certain that it would be no use waiting for the Narcissus, Neon suggested we go for the Flowerpeckers reportedly flying friskily close to the Post Office building. Did I mention that bird photographers, generally speaking, love challenges?


Facing the mistletoe tree, the three of us spread out and observed the comings and goings of those tiny, active, feathered creatures. "Red-keeled Flowerpeckers!" Neon informed us. It was quite a surprise to learn that these dainty birds thrive in this semi-urban landscape. It was a trying experience photography-wise, yet exhilarating as well.

All the while that we bird-photographers were having our adrenalin rushes, our faithful partners decided to sit it out and killed time by munching chestnuts and sharing spousal stories.

The adage "time flies when you're having fun" certainly rang true for us that special sunny Saturday. Soon it was almost noon and it was time to go.


We were all thankful that we decided to go for the keel. And got keeled!

Oriole Happy?

The trees were laden with fruits. There I was staring unblinkingly at the tree before me lavishly adorned with bright red fruits like an overdone holiday decor. And hoping that some other bird would be attracted to these feasts other than the noisy, ubiquitous Yellow-vented Bulbuls.

Then came a "ki-kiyaw!" So loud that even my impaired ears were able to hear it. Then came another and another, each one louder than the one before. I held my breath. Soon a flash of yellow ungracefully swooped through the green leaves and red fruits and ungainly landed on a branch. Followed by another flash of yellow. Why do they have to perch behind those twigs and bunch of leaves? I waited. Their hunger finally getting over their sense of caution, the Black-naped Orioles gave me some photo opportunities as they plucked the ripe fruits and swallowed them whole.

Having had their fill of these bounty, the orioles left. Only to be replaced by a group of Coppersmith Barbets.

When once again only the Bulbuls were the only ones enjoying the fruits, I started walking back to my car. It was then that my friend and fellow bird photographer, Ralf Nabong, arrived. It was also then that the Philippine Hawk Cuckoo flushed from somewhere and alit on a branch not too far from us. I managed to get off one quick shot while Ralf struggled to assemble his gear. Just as soon as he was ready, the cuckoo flew to an acacia tree. We quickly gave chase but it flew again from tree to tree not allowing us to get a good look at it until the bird flew to where we would not be able to follow.

After calming down our frustrations, Ralf and I decided to go to where the Lowland White-eyes are found. As we approached the fruiting "alagaw" tree, I immediately saw the roosting Philippine Nightjar on the branch of a nearby tall acacia.

Turning our attention to the "alagaw" tree, we met another fellow bird photographer, Rey Sta. Ana. As always the fruiting tree was swarming with Yellow-vented Bulbuls. Once in a while a flock of Lowland White-eyes would fly in to feed on the fruits. All three of us enjoyed the challenge of photographing these constantly moving, tiny green birds that blend so well with the large alagaw leaves.

At around eleven, Ralf had to leave due to some personal duties. Rey and I went back to the cuckoo place but it was nowhere to be found so we too decided to call it a day.

Later that afternoon as I related to my wife our adventures that morning, she asked, "Are y'all happy?"

"Oriolelly am", I replied