She Saw

We started the month of August by doing some birding at the campus of U.P. Diliman. We saw most of the birds we've seen 7 days ago at the same places. What was interesting was that my wife saw (and got pictures, of course) a couple of species that I didn't. Not that we were birding separately, but it was her keen hearing and quick eyes that caused both incidents. First, it was the juvenile Olive-backed Sunbird. After parking at the MSI parking lot, she followed some chirping that she kept hearing. When I got to the place where she was, somehow the Sunbird was already gone.

Then later, Cynthia got some photos of a juvenile Crested Myna. She pointed the bird to me but by the time I was able to raise my camera the black bird went inside the thick greenery and completely disappeared.

Other than that we pretty much saw quite a number of birds. Moi, being the more "obligating" one, took pictures of the "trash" birds which my wife preferred to pass over. Like the Eurasian Tree Sparrow,

the Yellow-Vented Bulbul,

and the Zebra Dove.

There were still a number of birds that visited the bare tree by the roadside but lesser than what we've seen the week before. Besides, as I said earlier, the weather was not that cooperative. So we only got documentary shots of the Golden-bellied Gerygone and the Philippine Pygmy Woodpecker..

..and a better shot of the Pied Triller.

The parking lot area of the MSI Building gave us better results in photographing the Black-naped Oriole.

Behind the Chemistry Building, or as we prefer to call it, the Long-tailed Shrike's place, naturally gave us good shots of the eponymous bird.

Although we again failed on getting a shot of the Striated Grassbird, we were thankful that the flock of the Scaly-breasted Munias was still there having a feeding frenzy.

And as bonus, a family of Coppersmith Barbets showed up unexpectedly at this place.

Back in the Grove

During our daily walk around our condominium (which is called The Grove) we always make it a point to look for birds. We sometimes bring binoculars and on a few occasions, a camera. Since we saw quite a number of birds the previous day, I decided to bring along the camera with the shorter lens (300mm) the following day. At the lawn, there were the usual Eurasian Tree Sparrows.

Unfortunately the seemingly tireless Scaly-breasted Munia which kept bringing nesting materials to a particular palm tree probably relocated somewhere.

Our first walk around the ground area was fruitless. The Zebra Doves were calling non-stop but never exposed themselves. Only the usual Yellow-vented Bulbuls and Eurasian Tree Sparrows were present. So my wife and I both agreed to do another round. It was then that they finally obliged to show themselves to us. 

The male walking towards its partner

Cynthia's sharp ears detected an Olive-backed Sunbird. Looking up towards the parking area she found the tiny bird perched on the wiry fence.

Then the species that we were actually waiting to see came. The day before we saw a flock of about 30 individuals feasting on a tree near the parking shed. This time although a bit fewer in number, they repeated their feeding frenzy at the same tree.

Inasmuch as we are unable to do some serious birding lately, I am just glad that there are still wild birds around the place where we live. That sort of brings us back in the groove of enjoying our hobby.

Driving me Mad

My wife and I are quite passive when encountering life's inconveniences. At our age we've gone through so much vicissitudes that we normally would not allow such things to bother us. But, and this is a big BUT, there are those occasions that get us fuming mad. So please allow me to vent out some of the frustrations we experienced in our latest birding trip.

The Candaba Wetlands is one of the prime birding areas in the Philippines. Or I should now say, "used to be".  Whereas before hundreds, if not thousands, of migrant waders and ducks can easily be seen here, now there was an obvious disparity since the birds we saw yesterday were much lower in number. Sure, there were hundreds of Black-winged Stilts but that's just about it. A few Wood Sandpipers here and there, fewer Long-toed Stints and a couple of Grey and Purple Herons. We did not even see a single Common Kingfisher! There were ducks, mostly the endemic Philippine, but they were too far off for a decent photograph. Good thing some Wandering Whistling Ducks found a place to settle that was within photographic range.

The primary reason for this, I believe, was because the watery area where these migrants settle are now rice fields, newly planted even. The local Black-crowned Night Heron colony population seemed to have dwindled as well.

Thankfully, the local avifauna was thriving well. The most ubiquitous among these were the Pied Bush Chat, Striated Grassbird, Chestnut Munia and Long-tailed Shrike.

Pied Bush Chat

Chestnut Munia

Long-tailed Shrike 

Striated Grassbird

The Rallidae family was well represented with the Barred Rail, Buff-baded Rail, Philippine Swamphen, White-breasted Waterhen and White-browed Crake.

Barred Rail

Buff-banded Rail

Philippine Swamphen

White-browed Crake

White-breasted Waterhen

Now let me tell you about the Bitterns. It was as if they were in connivance with each other because all three species - Yellow, Cinnamon, and Black - teased us in exactly the same way. While we are focusing on some other species, one of these sly birds would suddenly leap from where were looking, fly a short distance then dive into a clump of vegetation and completely vanish. That this happened about 10 times left us bitter. It was only when we were already on the way out and while enjoying the cooperativeness of some Blue-tailed Bee-eaters that one Yellow Bittern finally obliged to be photographed. It was a Bittern end to our birding in Candaba.

Blue-tailed Bee-eater

Yellow Bittern

What made Cynthia and I upset was the traffic we encountered on our trip home. We've birded Candaba many times for the past five years but this was the first time that we got stuck in such a horrendous jam. Candaba is some 60 kilometers from our home in Quezon City. It took us only one-and-a-half hours that morning to get to the wetlands whereas it was a maddening three-and-a-half hours on the return trip! I mean where did all these trucks come from? They were everywhere! - from the narrow two-lane roads in Bulacan to the streets from Mindanao Avenue to Katipunan Avenue. Trucks! 

When we finally arrived home my wife was so exasperated. She told me that this could be our last birding trip because we don't want to go through this nightmare again. "It's for your own sake," she said, "because you're the one driving." I'm afraid I had to agree with her. At my age - a year less than 70 - my physical endurance is no longer what it used to be. Considering that we had to wake up early, go birding (which involves standing for long periods, walking while carrying my heavy camera equipment, and sometimes even trudging over uneven trails) then having to sit for seemingly countless hours inside our vehicle waiting for the traffic to move inch-by-inch towards home, I don't think I can handle that on a regular basis. And that drives me mad.

Violet Shown

It seemed like everybody and his uncle had seen - and photographed - the male and female Violet Cuckoos at the La Mesa Ecopark. We tried a couple of weeks ago and totally bombed. Since the recent sightings had been more frequent, I asked our friend, Mike Anton, when and where would be the best time and place to go. "Near the paintball area", he replied, "around 7:30 to 8:00 in the morning."

Six-thirty the following day, my wife and I were already at the Paintball area. It didn't take long when Cynthia started pointing to some movement on the tree in front us. My heart was jumping for joy because it was the male - my target bird! (I've seen and photographed the female several years ago in U.P.). For the next couple of hours the pair of cuckoos gave us lots of opportunities to take their pictures.

male

female

We were thankful that we got what we had hoped for, quite easily at that, and also because of bonus shots of two raptors: the Philippine Serpent Eagle and three Ospreys hovering over the spillway.

Philippine Serpent Eagle

Osprey

During one of those pauses when the cuckoos were inactive and hidden from view, we were joined by a group of foreign birders guided by members of the Haribon Foundation. They were so excited to see the Violet Cuckoos, the Serpent Eagle and the Ospreys and later on by a small flock of Lowland White-eyes.

Around 9:30 two newbie bird photographers came. Tim Calumpong and Fidel Sy also enjoyed the Cuckoos showing up just as they arrived. A little after ten and we all (including the foreigners) called it a day.

For Cynthia and myself this was one those hallelujah birding moments when everything just fell into place.

The Road to Dissatisfaction

How would you feel if after a birding trip you discovered that none of the pictures you've taken made the grade. Such a heartache happened last Saturday. One groan after another came from from my mouth as I viewed the results of my photographic endeavors one by one. Times like this that I go into deep introspection. Where have I gone wrong? The only acceptable excuse I could come up with was that my heart was not really in it when my wife and I made this trip.

A couple of birding buddies told me sometime in July while we were at the La Mesa Ecopark that there was a place along the Marikina-Infanta road that teems with birds. Last Saturday, Cynthia and I thought it was time to "case the joint".  From what we learned, traffic - a daily abomination in MetroManila - was quite light in this area. That, of course, is a huge incentive. We've never driven here before so I intentionally lowered my expectations despite our friends' stories. Forty kilometers later and all we've seen were Shrikes - both the local Long-tailed and the migrant Brown. Despicable photos anyone?

Brown Shrike

Long-tailed Shrike

Then there was the White-throated Kingfisher that sat passively on a branch. Yet despite such photographic opportunity, the results were still way below par.

Oh, there were Barred Rails on the roadside but they would scamper off even before I could park our car on the grassy shoulder. I even spotted a surprisingly cooperative Plain Bush Hen and resulted in yet another blurred image.

After a hearty breakfast at Cafe Katerina, our luck turned a tad for the better - if you could call it that - when we saw a Pygmy Flowerpecker foraging on the berries across the road from where we were parked. Tiny, active, distant - factors that contributed to another groan inducing photo.

Near the 94 km post, instead of the mixed flock of mountain birds that were supposed to be gorging at the purple berries here, what we witnessed was a gathering of mountain bikers congregating on the feeding station known as Jariel's Peak.

The return trip home was even worse because we did not see any birds at all except a crowd of swallows perched on an electric wire.

Now comes the rationalization: I believe we came in too late. It was already past seven when we got to the mountainous (and supposedly birdy) part of the road. The purple berry tree was no longer fruiting. I did not bring my tripod - essential if using the Tamron lens, which I was.

We will for sure try this road again. Maybe not soon, but we will. When we do, we will consider all the rationalizations I mentioned above. Hopefully the results will not be unsatisfactory.

Mocking Birds

Ah, the heartache as a result of being mocked by birds, how does one get over it?

I was all by myself, bathed in a torrent of sweat, searching for birds that I can photograph in the mini-forest of the La Mesa Ecopark. 

There was a fleeting shadow among the leaves that promptly disappeared as I focused my eyes (my eyes! not even my camera!) on it. That was just about it.

A slight movement among the leaf litter. Ashy Thrush! I pointed my camera at it. It looked at me and then it moved as if saying to me "photograph me if you can". I followed, slowly, hiding behind a tree trunk. I can see it. I raise my camera. The thrush once again moved challenging me to follow it. Stealthily, I repositioned myself, once more seeing the bird. Before I was able to aim my camera at it, it flew. Out of sight. There was a mocking, laugh-like twitter. I sighed. 

I walked along the trail. Then I heard it - the unmistakable call of the Hooded Pitta. I half-ran to where the mournful sound was coming from. The call got louder and louder. I stopped and gazed around. Then came the "uh-oooh". It was so loud, the Pitta could not be more than ten feet away. But where is it? I looked up, hoping it would be calling from a branch. Not there. I searched the grounds around me. No movements at all. And yet, the call was still loud and near. A flutter, a shadow quickly darting from the clump of leaves in front of me to....I couldn't tell where it landed. Again, came the call - now farther away. I followed. A bit louder now but still no sign of the hooded green bird that seemed to tease me, daring me to find it. Another fleeting shadow. Another call - this time emanating from a place even farther away. The call, the deriding laughter, echoed in the distance, taunting me, daring me to keep on pursuing the source of such scornful sound. But I, no longer desiring to be the patsy of such playful ploy, turned away and decided to look for other birds, perhaps those with a more cooperative nature.

I was meandering along the trail, my pride brought down a notch or two by the pesky, invisible pitta, when the Ashy Thrush flew across my path. I raised my camera only to see it merge among the low branches completely disappearing like an avian Houdini. I searched the adjacent area. Nothing. Suddenly a moving shadow and a jeering call. Then silence. Oh how I missed my expert spotter (aka my wife, Cynthia). 

It was while I was mulling over this situation when a special-ops team of minuscule black ants made a coordinated assault on both of my legs. How those tiny dots could inflict so much pain puzzled me. I did a frantic rubbing on my legs accompanied by a fervent prayer that I would be able to get rid of all those that had attached themselves to my flesh. Thank God, the ant bites were gone after a few minutes.

It was just too much for my wounded pride to bear. I decided to end my birding day after spending only two hours in the suffocating humidity of the forest. I needed to be home and spend the rest of the day licking my wounded pride.

Itch Over

Host: Ladies and gentlemen, tonight's guest is none other than Bob Kaufman, bird photographer and blogger. Good evening, Bob, welcome to the show.

Bob: Good evening! Thanks for inviting me. Frankly I'm a bit nervous.

Host: Just relax, Bob. I heard that you finally went birding this morning. How long had it been since you last birded.....

Bob: Mid-April in Hongkong.

Host: .....in the Philippines?

Bob: Oh, sorry. If I remember correctly it was March 7th.

Host: Wow! That long ago already? You usually go birding with your wife, Cynthia. But this morning she wasn't with you. Why?

Bob: It's because of the heat. She just couldn't bear it. Actually even I was hesitant to go but the need to satisfy my birding itch finally overcame my vacillation.

Host: Where did you go?

Bob: At the La Mesa Ecopark.

Host: Did you see a lot of birds?

Bob: Sadly, no. Were it not for the help of some friends that I met there I would probably have seen even less.

Host: So nice of them. I also heard that the Hooded Pitta is now seen quite regularly there. Were you able to see it?

Bob: (Pause)

Host: Did you see the Hooded Pitta?

Bob: Next question please.

Host: (smiling) What birds did you see?

Bob: Well, there was a Barred Rail that hid behind the bushes before I could even raise my camera to my eyes, a flock of tiny Lowland White-eyes, an Ashy Thrush that wouldn't stop singing, and a hungry Guaiabero. That's about it.

Host: And you got pictures of those, I'm sure.

Bob: Well, yes. Except for the Barred Rail.

Host: Would you like to show them here?

Bob: (demurring) Ummm, not really. Honestly, it's because none of my shots turned out well. Let's just say that this morning's trip was all about my need to go birding after a long hiatus. And now I'm glad that that itch is over.

Host: There you have it, ladies and gentlemen, we learned something new tonight. In birding oftentimes it's the simple joy of fulfilling the need to pursue one's passion that really matters. Thank you, Bob Kaufman, for sharing your thoughts and experience with us.

Bob: My pleasure.

Sighs and Whiskers

To start off the new year, Cynthia and I went to Davao City - primarily to attend her niece's wedding - and of course, inasmuch as we were already there, to go birding as well. Our beginning of the year's birding experience can only be described as having ups and downs - sometimes literally. Please allow me to break it down in a few short stories.

Silvery Moan

Among our target birds here in Davao was the Silvery Kingfisher. One of the places where it's almost guaranteed to be found is at the Philippine Eagle Center in Malagos. Despite our previous disappointing experiences in that place (we've been there twice and had only a fleeting glimpse of the kingfisher once) my hopes were still high. We decided to spend the morning of Saturday at the Eagle Center. We were greeted by a Philippine Hanging Parrot displaying just above the pond. 

Cynthia and I took turns at staking out the said pond. Grey was the mood as I meandered around the area photographing only a Grey-streaked Flycatcher and a Grey Wagtail (or is it Yellow?). 

My wife, on the other hand, had a Chestnut Munia and an Olive-backed Sunbird.

Three hours slowly passed and there was not even the sound of a wheeet nor a silvery feather. Not getting one of the top birds on my want list was heartbreaking. I can only moan in despair as we returned to our hotel.

Loth and Found

Monday morning we were picked up by our friend, Pete Simpson. He will be taking us further up Mt. Talomo to show us another bird in my want list - the Whiskered Flowerpecker. There will be some strenuous hiking involved, he told us, and I would definitely need a porter to carry my long lens and tripod. Prior to the climb, we met up with Loth, our porter and eagle-eyed birder. Pete, of course, was the expert and really great at spotting birds, but despite being relatively new at birding, Loth indeed had sharp eyes as well and there were times when he was the one who found the birds first. He also helped me direct my lens to my avian subjects because my vision had become somewhat antiquated and I had problems differentiating birds from leaves. Thanks to both Pete and Loth, the Whiskered Flowerpecker was quick tick.

The problem, however, was the ambient light. It had been mostly greyish with just a few bursts of sunshine. Despite seeing lots of birds - or in our case, silhouettes - photographing them was next to impossible. Even though we saw lifers, I could not technically include them in my lifelist simply because I did not see them clear enough to confirm the species (regardless of the assurances of Pete). Therefore, Cinnamon Ibon, Fire-breasted Flowerpecker, Olive-capped Flowerpecker and Short-tailed Starling, I hope to see you again preferably in bright, sunny weather next time. 

Pete, Loth and me

As we were leaving the place, we were rewarded by excellent views of a Coppersmith Barbet in glorious sunlight. Although the ones found here are of a different subspecies (mindanensis) they still look very much the same as those found in Luzon.

Hidden in Eden

In our spare time, while we were checked in at the Eden Resort, we spent them at the Mountain Trail. The Mountain Trail was that exotic place where we easily chalked up two lifers (Cryptic Flycatcher and Philippine Trogon) nine months ago. Aside from those two at least two more species made our visit to that place really worthwhile - the Ruddy Kingfisher and the Black-naped Monarch. This time though it was a complete dud. We were there in the afternoon and saw nothing but a skittish Grey Wagtail. We came back early in the morning and again saw nothing but that same old skittish Grey Wagtail.

The places around the resort were also disappointing. Birds were scarce and when we saw some interesting species (such as a Turquoise Flycatcher), the light was not cooperating and we saw silhouettes all over again. It seemed like the avian residents of Eden were hidden.

Sighs and Whiskers

Perhaps it was the time of year. Or it could be the weather. But our birding trip to Davao this time was filled with sighs of disappointment. Were it not for the sighting of the Whiskered Flowerpeckers, it would have been a complete disaster. 

We just hope and pray that this experience would not replicate itself for the rest of the year. We look forward to more lifers for us and that our bird photography would be more rewarding.

Sadder but Weisser

Our friend and neighbor, Chin Fernandez, PMed me in Facebook asking for directions to the Candaba Wetlands. I replied saying that if he plans to go on Friday, the 26th, I'll go with him. He said yes and so we did. My wife decided to stay at home this time.

The very first bird that we were able to photograph was a Barn Swallow doing its early morning grooming.

Other than that most of the birds (ducks, herons and egrets) were so far off that it was difficult to take pictures of them. Every so often a flock would fly and circle around the area. That was when Chin and I were able to practice our BIF (birds in flight) techniques. Black-crowned Night Herons were aplenty.

Surprisingly, a flock of about 15 Northern Pintails participated in the flight displays.

Of course, what would Candaba be without the endemic Philippine Ducks.

The Ardeids were more individualized in their flights. Such as this Purple Heron.

The Intermediate Egret..

..and the Little Egret.

What made our day was when fellow Wild Bird Club member Randy Weisser informed us that there were four (!) Eurasian Wigeons - one male and three females - in the pond near the entrance to the wetlands. Actually, he and his family were birding in that area while Chin and I were closer to the Mayor's House patiently monitoring a pair of Purple Swamphens gather nesting materials. 

I was surprised when I saw their van coming towards us. "I thought they already left," I told Chin. The van stopped next to me. Maria, Randy's wife, showed me a Kennedy Guide opened to the page showing the ducks. "If you want to see the Eurasian Wigeons, I'll show them to you," she said, pointing to the illustration of that particular species. I quickly informed Chin of the good news. We boarded his SUV and followed the Weissers. Randy was sitting on a stool peering through his spotting scope when we arrived. He pointed at the flotilla of ducks on the farthest pond. "They're there." he assured us. After some serious scanning using my long lens, I found them! Chin had to look through Randy's spotting scope to check the exact spot where the rare migrants were.

Having done their good deed for the day, the Weissers continued on their birding around the wetlands. We thanked them profusely as we enjoyed our bird of the day.

Everything was sort of anti-climactic after that. We were on the way out and I was lamenting the fact that we had not seen waders at all. "Where are the Sandpipers, Plovers, Stints and Stilts?" It was more a sad statement than a question. Then as serendipity would have it, a small group of Little Ringed Plovers and a single Wood Sandpiper paraded on the fallow fields to our right.

For us it was just a so-so day except for the uncommon Eurasian Wigeon. Who would have thought that there would be 4 of them in Candaba. It would have been a sad day of birding for us had it not been for the Weisser family. We sincerely express our gratitude to them for that.