Sad Movies

Cynthia had grandma duties so I went to Ecopark alone.

I saw my first bird which didn’t take too long

An Ashy Thrush flew up to the branch of a tree

Just as I was being joined by Bert and company.

We climbed up the narrow trail hoping to see

The kingfisher that birders nicknamed Spotty

But Spotty strangely was nowhere to be found

So we all decided to explore the other trails around

When we stopped to rest we saw some movement above

Looking up we all saw a lovely White-eared Brown Dove

Farther into the forest we went and then once again paused

Because a Mangrove Blue Flycatcher stopped by and posed

As rising temperatures announced the approaching midday

I said goodbye to my friends and went my own separate way

That night as I was going over my friend’s posts in Facebook

There was something there that made me do a second look

A photo of an Eye-browed Thrush was posted by Bert

Suddenly I felt as if I was cursed by mother earth

Five times I went to Ecopark hoping to see this thrush

Five times I failed, five times my heart was crushed

I was sniffling softly as I watched a dramatic TV show

Then slowly, silently my tears began to flow

Cynthia noticed this and she asked me why

I just told her that sad movies make me cry

The Blog I Didn't Want to Write

As many of you know, I enjoy blogging. I like to write about practically anything but most especially about the bird photography adventures that my wife, Cynthia, and I undertake with some degree of regularity. More often than not my blogs reflect the joys my wife and I experienced in these adventures sometimes even accented with some stout-hearted hilarity. However there come those times when I'd rather not blog. So I write this one with a heaviness of heart. 

It all began on Friday, December 28th. Cynthia and I were at La Mesa Ecopark where we met up with friends Irene, Rob, Bram, Sylvia and Tonji. We were there for a single purpose: to find the very rare Scaly Thrush. It hadn't been five minutes after we arrived that Tonji came running toward us saying that he saw it. We all rushed to where he espied the bird. It wasn't there anymore. Hours passed as we all staked out different places. Then came the report that the trio of Rob, Bram and Irene caught a glimpse of the superbly camouflaged thrush. We rushed to where they were. It wasn't there anymore. Noon time  and we reluctantly had to go. Not only were my wife and I starving, our lower bodies were aching from all the squatting and stooping that we did in waiting for our quarry to appear.

Cynthia and I went back Saturday afternoon - our hearts set on finding the Scaly Thrush. We armed ourselves with the required patience and determination. Our hopes were actually high that we would finally be successful. Then it rained. Hard. We were imprisoned under our umbrella. Eventually the rain abated into a soft drizzle. Under normal circumstances, my wife and I love rain. It has that refreshing quality that seem to bring out the child in us - wanting to dance and frolic in the downpour. But this particular rain on that particular afternoon surprisingly, unexpectedly, dampened our spirits. The skies never showed a promise to clear up so we packed our gears and began the slow agonizing walk back to our car.

The year 2012 ended. 2013 as in any new year carried with it feelings of hope. It was with this newfound hope that Cynthia and I went back to La Mesa  Ecopark on the 2nd day of the year. We came with friends Jo and Doc Cha. As soon as we entered the mini forest, we saw another group of birders composed of Ixi, Mikeli, Gina, Mel, Felix, Trinket and Adri. Yes, they saw the Scaly Thrush they assured us. Three long hours later, the said thrush never showed up again.

Our friend, Irene, who joined our group told us of two more rarities found in Candaba: the Dusky Warbler and the Middendorff's Grasshopper Warbler. Do we want to go there and look for them? she asked us. I thought about how we missed the Common Shelduck at that very place and our now third miss on the Scaly Thrush. I thought about how other birders were able to see all these unusual birds. I sighed a deep sigh.

Strawberry Ice Cream

The little boy has never tasted Strawberry Ice Cream all his life. It was so hard to find in the place where he lives. Every time he goes to the neighborhood store to look for it, he would always get the same answer: No strawberry ice cream today, son.

Then one day, when his school visited another town for an outing, he was told by one of his classmates that the local store there was selling his favorite flavor. He rushed to the place only to find out that the strawberry ice cream was all gone. The little boy's heart sank in bitter disappointment. Reluctantly and with sadness he walked away only to gasp in pain as he accidentally bumped a prickly cactus plant on his way out. Bleeding physically and emotionally, he was a picture of dejection. 

A few days later he learned that all his classmates who went to the local store right after he left were able to buy his much coveted strawberry ice cream. The poor boy felt as if the world was collapsing all around him. Why was it that everybody got it except me? he wondered silently, grief filling his whole being.

Many days passed. The little boy was gradually getting over his sorrowful experience from the other town. As he was reading his book one rainy day, a classmate informed him that the store near their village now offers Rocky Road ice cream (another hard to find flavor). Even though he had tried Rocky Road before he thought that maybe if he had it again it would ease his misery. He dropped everything that he was doing and hastily went to the store. Only to be met with: "Sorry, son, we just ran out of Rocky Road." Head bowed, he slowly turned to leave when he suddenly heard: "But we have Strawberry Ice Cream, would you like to have that instead?"

Now substitute Ruddy Kingfisher for Rocky Road. And for Strawberry Ice Cream, Spotted Wood Kingfisher.

For a clearer understanding of the above "parable" please see my earlier blog