Who needs Scales, We're Schrenck to Fit

The Blog I Should Have Not Written

My excitement at seeing a rarity so early in the year prompted me to write about our experience as soon as possible. When news came later that the bittern we saw was not the kind it was purported to be, it was too late. The blog had been published. Birding definitely has its ups and downs and this was one of those that didn't turn out as expected. But that's ok. Life goes on. 

------------------------------oOo----------------------------

In my previous blog (the one I didn't want to write) I lamented the fact that my wife and I missed the Scaly Thrush at La Mesa Ecopark three times! With the encouragement of our friends, Cynthia and I decided to give it one more try. At first my wife refused to do it, reasoning that she probably would not be able to handle another heartbreak. I actually had the same thoughts. When our friend Irene texted Cynthia telling her that she and Rob would be going to the Ecopark on Friday morning and help us find the now seemingly imaginary bird, how could we refuse.

It was drizzling as we left our house. A dawdling breakfast at Jollibee's and the drizzle hasn't stopped yet. At the Ecopark we walked towards the mini forest under an umbrella. Close to an hour of scouring the leaf litter drenched in rain water not a single creature was seen stirring and our hearts were silently breaking. Then Cynthia's mobile phone tweedled, it was a text message from Irene. Rare bittern at spillway it said. My wife relayed the message to me. Rare bittern? what could be rarer than a Schrencks, I thought to myself.

"Ask her what kind" I told my wife.

A few minutes later, another message.

"Schrencks" 

The news confirmed my suspicion. My wife and I looked at each other. The way our luck had been going lately we feared that the rare bittern will be gone by the time we had negotiated the long uphill walk to the spillway. 

We continued peering into the dripping understory. Still not a creature was stirring, not even those pesky mosquitoes that had been the bane of birders in this dark, melancholic place.

After about thirty minutes, another text: Come now bittern still here.

Heaving a mournful sigh, we began the trek to where our friends were wallowing in the thrill of getting another lifer. Out of breath and out of hope we approached the deck overlooking the spillway. Rob told me to look through his spotting scope. I looked and saw nothing but a rock.

"It's there!" both Irene and Rob insisted. Cynthia and I went to the lower deck and scanned the shrubbery. There were some Barred Rails in the distance and as I used them to console myself, Rob suddenly yelled, "Flying! Flying!" I looked and saw something browny-orangey dive into a clump of tall grass. 

"I saw it!" I replied to one in particular still unconvinced that it was indeed the Schrenck's Bittern that I just saw. Time slowly passed and the skies blew away the rain and welcomed a bright morning sun. When I saw a Little Egret walk towards the place where the flying bittern landed, I told my wife who was standing next to me, "Look, God sent that Little Egret to flush the bittern so we can see it." A few minutes later the rare bird emerged from its hiding and gave all four of us such good looks that there was no denying that this was indeed a Schrenck's Bittern!

Once that fact had been established, text messages were immediately sent to our friends. Soon we were joined by Bram and then Jun and Maia. To their delight the bittern remained visible and so insouciant to its now celebrity status.

Thanks to a bird whose scientific name means harmonious bittern, the heartaches dealt by a scaly creature had been turned to a tuneful melody of joy.

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.

Paradise Regained

"A fairer paradise is founded now" - John Milton, Paradise Regained

I once was lost but now am found. Had I known that Bob and Cynthia and their friend, Peter, were looking for me exactly one week ago, I would have shown myself to them. Especially since they had to come in the afternoon because Bob had to attend a seminar in his church earlier that day.

The three of them came again this Saturday morning to once more look for me. Searching with them were their colleagues and friends, Tonji and Sylvia, Mike, Bong and Eve, Irene and Rob. But they chose to go through the broad and easy trail first.

Thankfully, the Rock* showed them the way. The Rock had been here before and after going through the agony of a narrow and slippery path himself, he found me. Now he was so happy to lead the others to paradise.

For some, seeing me gave them a lifer.

As for me, it gave me joy to bestow happiness to others. And I look up with thanksgiving and praise.

*Rocky Sison

Anger Games

The three of us were crouched behind a bush waiting for our prey. We tried to be as still as possible but with the sweltering heat and a cloud of hungry mosquitoes hovering around us, our efforts were all in vain. It had been almost two hours and our clothes were sopping wet. Every so often one of us would wander to look for other game or just to get a much needed relief from our stake out.

Our friend, Bong Tarat-tarat, decided to hunt for the Peeta with a red belly. He would imitate the mournful call of that skulking creature in an effort to lure it out from its hiding place. But the Peeta never appeared.

My life partner, Osintiang Lupa, used her sharp ears to locate the intermittently calling Mang Groblu catcher of flies. She would find it and would motion for me to come but by the time I arrived to take a shot at it, it would be gone.

That made Osintiang angry.

Most of the time, though, I, Kainis Poreber, remained behind the bush, patiently waiting for the Assy Thrash to appear.

After a long, patience-draining watch, I saw something hopping amidst the dark undergrowth. I silently called my partners. Bong and myself aimed our weapons at the moving shadowlike figure. We were about to shoot when a boisterous crowd suddenly appeared at the trailhead sending our quarry back under the cover of darkness. We glared at the group who completely ignored us and went on talking so loud as if they were watching a rock concert.

That made Bong angry.

The fact that this scenario happened so many times made me wonder why these people, who were walking in the middle of a serene forest, had to talk and laugh in such an inconsiderate manner despite seeing us diligently stalking some avian game.

That made me angry.

For the umpteenth time, we were once again at our post, hoping against hope that we would for once, get the Assy Thrash without being disturbed by mindless babblers. Bong and I knew how difficult it would be to capture that bird in that particular environment. We have set our weapons to manual – to depend on automatic could result in heartbreaking failure – for we may never get another chance again.

Then it appeared. Osintiang perked her ears and made sure no noisy interruptors were approaching. We fired away.

Our anger had subsided.

Now we are pleased.

Disclaimer:
The characters and creatures portrayed in this story are all fictional. Any similarities with an actual person or animal, alive or dead, are purely coincidental.


Or not.

Blurred Watching

It was one of those mornings where routine (routine [roo' ten] noun: a sequence of actions regularly followed) had been the norm. It went like this: One of us would yell, "There it is!" Then we would all point our cameras to the subject of the yell. Bursts of shots would be fired. All of us would groan in unison, "Aaargh!"


For almost two hours, Gabs, Edu and myself followed these pathetic attempts to photograph the Red-bellied Pitta at La Mesa Ecopark. (My wife, Cynthia, perhaps gifted with foreknowledge decided not to bring a camera). We only gave up when fellow bird photographer, Jun Osano, informed us that two, count 'em, two Grey-backed Tailorbirds were seen up close (!) just down the road. We hurried to that place only to meet the rest of the Wild Bird Club members just as they were leaving. The tailorbirds were (note the past tense) just there they told us.


We staked a vigil hoping our would-be lifers would return. Then it rained. Thankfully it was just a short downpour. Soon we were chasing after a strange trilling sound. When we finally located the source we saw a long-tailed bird and it was grey... no, wait.... oh, it's a female Philippine Magpie Robin. At this stage, any bird (well, maybe except those ho-hum Eurasian Tree Sparrows and Yellow-vented Bulbuls) would be fair game. So I took some pictures of the Magpie Robin and...."aaargh!"


We joined up with the Wild Bird Club members and noticed they were all looking up. A stance deemed normal for birders, by the way. Which probably explains why they didn't see us until we were standing right next to them.  When asked for the reason for their craned necks, "No, not a crane", was the reply, " but a White-eared Brown Dove!" Sure enough there it was, twenty-thousand feet up on the branch of a tree perched behind several layers of leaves. Looking every bit as bored as a government employee. But like any self-respecting bird photographer, we took obligatory pictures of the dove. "Aaargh!"


Fie on those blurry bird pictures! We three are all "groan" up bird photographers anyway. Besides, we can always blame the rainy, gloomy weather.


Note: For the sake of my dignity I purposely did not post any photograph of any bird taken that day. 


Unless you guys beg me to.


Nah. I still won't.