The Beginning and the End

It was a nice beginning and a beautiful ending. The sad part was what happened in between. Or to put it another way, nothing happened in between.

My wife and I were inside our car which was parked near the stream where the Cream-bellied Fruit dove had been lately. We were also waiting for our friend, Peter, and his guests from Shanghai. By the road we saw our first bird..the Grey Wagtail.

It wasn't long when it was joined, or shall I say, bullied by a Blue Rock Thrush! 

We thought that such unexpected sighting would augur well for the rest of our birding day. It didn't. It wasn't long when our friends arrived. So we staked out the area by the brook and waited for the hoped-for lifer. Nada. Even the Philippine Bulbuls and Philippine Fairy Bluebirds decided to stay at places beyond our photographic distance.

And that continued for the whole morning. We would hear the bird calls. And that was about it. Heard only. The usual mixed flock were surprisingly missing.

After lunch, we all agreed to call it a day. Peter and company said they would go ahead since Cynthia and I would be doing some car washing before heading home. After that we drove slowly still hoping that we would encounter some birds. Then we saw Peter's car parked by the Sidlakan area. We parked behind it and looked for them. We saw Peter shooting at something. "Flaming Sunbirds" he informed us. That was the beautiful ending to an otherwise heart-breaking briding sortie.

Male 

female

Nothing New

Honestly, I had my expectations at zero level even before we arrived at Infanta. The past 5 visits to this place had been sadly disappointing. To dip so badly while others enjoyed good views, some even quite close, of uncommon birds, of species that would have been lifers for me and my wife was heartbreaking. And now the promise of another potential addition to our list brought us back here.

As if our previous torturous experiences were not enough, not seeing our target bird for today added to our misfortunes. Perhaps it was due to the inclement weather that only a few birds showed up. The sunbirds were nowhere to be found and the usual wave of mixed flocks never happened.

There were birds alright, but nothing new - two species of flowerpeckers, the Buzzing and the Pygmy and a couple of endemic raptors, both of which were either backlit or simply too far for good photos. Remember, the weather was gloomy and even had drizzles, so photography was really a challenge.

Buzzing Flowerpecker

Pygmy Flowerpecker

Philippine Serpent Eagle

Philippine Falconet

At around 11 the drizzle turned into rain. As we drove through the downpour, I pondered on what just happened again. My inner self whispered: It's nothing new.

That Haunting Sound

For almost four hours that deep "hmmm" kept haunting us. We could tell that the source of that taunting call was not that far from us. And yet, even with the help of five other birder friends all with binoculars, the Flame-breasted Fruit Dove, despite its repeated cooing, was never located. Considering that this was our (my wife and I) fourth attempt at trying to get a photo (or at least a good look) of this mysterious bird and failing on all those occasions was a heart-breaking experience. The fact that a whole bunch of photographers got close up shots of this species just the day before added to our pain.

Ah, but such is a birder's life.

Eventually we gave up and decided to join another group of birder friends to look for the sunbirds frequenting the hibiscus flowers at the km. 96 area. Thankfully, the Luzon Sunbird cooperated several times. For this Cynthia and I were very grateful inasmuch as we still didn't have good photos of this species. 

the reason why it used to be called Metallic-winged Sunbird

At least our day was not a complete disappointment.

None of the above

....and the bad luck continues...

In my last blog I mentioned our heartache at not seeing our target bird - the migrant Blue Rock Thrush at the University of the Philippines' campus. On my birthday even! Little did I know that such bad luck would still be with us three weeks later.

Bright and early this morning my wife and I were at the La Mesa Ecopark hoping to see the Violet Cuckoo and maybe even the Grey-faced Buzzard. Our friend, Maia, saw the cuckoo yesterday and happily posted her sighting in her blog. I contacted her for the directions and she said the bird usually frequents the trees near the fishing pond. "It usually perches above the balete tree," Maia said. Almost four hours later and the only birds that perched on the balete tree were the Yellow-vented Bulbuls.

Early on we were joined by another friend, Bong Nabong. He just came from the spillway looking for the Grey-faced Buzzard which was seen yesterday as well by another friend and neighbor, Chin Fernandez. "Never showed up," Bong informed us about the buzzard.

Cynthia and I eventually gave up on the cuckoo. The only consolation we got was me being able to photograph a Common Kingfisher and my wife a Pygmy Flowerpecker. 

Common Kingfisher

Pygmy Flowerpecker

A short foray into the mini-forest yielded a total of zero sightings. You read that right: zero! as in nada! zilch!

We tried the spillway and got the exact same statistics: zero! nada! zilch! We asked the Security Guard in the area if he had seen the raptor. "It was here yesterday," he said, "up above those trees across the spillway." "Did not see it today though," he continued.

A Violet Cuckoo above the balete tree and a Grey-faced Buzzard above the trees across the spillway - and yet none showed up today. Not that they were lifers to be for us (although we have not seen a male Violet Cuckoo yet) but still the disappointment of lucking out on both species was quite hard to bear.

As I was reviewing our CF cards at home I was shocked to discover that we only took a total of 38 shots - 18 for Cynthia and 20 for me. Thirty eight shots in a span of four hours! This could be our worst birding day! Ever!

So Dip

We thought it would be a good birding day for us. As soon as we got off the car, we were greeted by a trio of Colasisis (Philippine Hanging Parrots) flying back and forth to the trees surrounding the parking lot of the Kamia Residence Hall in the campus of the University of the Philippines.

Add to that a friendly Black-naped Oriole calling not far from the tiny, green parrots.

It was all downhill after that. The hoped-for Cuckoo at the "frogs" area was a complete no-show. Our stake-out at the Main Library was also an exercise in futility because the migrant Ashy Drongo decided to relocate nearer the Beta Way. We went that way only to be greeted by the loud cheering and yelling of the spectators to a nearby sports competition.

It was a dip so bad that you can not dunk chips on it. And to think that I even brought my humongous 500mm lens and endured carrying it on my aching shoulder with the hope that I could get better pictures of the drongo and document the existence of the cuckoo. The cuckoo whose presence had been confirmed by our friend and university professor, Doc Mando, who had seen said bird a few days ago. We met him as he, himself, also wanted to take a better shot and establish the correct identity of the cuckoo.

To make matters worse, as I was loading my gears back into our car I noticed that one of the rubber edges of my tripod was missing! We quickly returned to the grounds in front of the library and scoured the area. Nothing. 

"I remember my tripod being caught in a crack in the steps at the "frogs", I told my wife.

We returned to that place and the first thing I noticed was that Doc Mando was no longer there. Very likely he didn't see the cuckoo either, I thought to myself as I searched the steps. It was like searching for the proverbial needle in a haystack. I was about to give up when I saw something embedded at a gap in the cement. I heaved a sigh of relief and offered a prayer of thanks and returned with a bounce to my walk to where my wife was waiting.

We may have dipped on our target birds but finding a tiny piece of rubber in a place covered by dead leaves was something we were thankful for. Now to go for a different kind of dip - the one that makes lumpiang shanghai taste better.

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

"Mona Lisa" Birding

Simply put, just like Leonardo da Vinci's famous painting, there were no eyebrows! 

Two days ago we were at the La Mesa Ecopark to look for the Eyebrowed Thrush (a would be lifer). We dipped. Encouraged by our friend, Sean Melendres' report that he saw that particular species sometime after we left, we came back today with renewed hope. But dipped again.

It was not a total loss though. I got almost full frame shots of the Ashy Thrush - you know, the one without the eyebrow - feeding on the red fruits of the MacArthur palm tree.

Even better, my wife and I and birder friend, Irene Dy, were able to get really good shots of the endemic (and very curious) Guaiabero.

So at the end of the day, even without the eyebrows we still managed to get some smiles - just like Mona Lisa.

"Dam" spiro, spero

Hope. A very inspiring word. It was hope that lifted my spirits from the doldrums of an unbirded weekend. It was hope that brought me to Santa Fe Dam once again on a bright Monday morning. The spate of firestorms all over Southern California the past week had blanketed the air with ash and covered the skies with dark billowing smoke. But Monday was blessed with glorious, unveiled sunshine. It was the hope of finding two lifers that got my heart beating faster that promising morn.

And yet the brightest of hopes can sometimes be dimmed. Four hours of diligent and optimistic search never yielded the species I had wanted to see. Still, the adventure wasn't for naught with the unexpected sighting of a female Orange Bishop. Heretofore, I had only seen the male in its gaudy orange and black plumage. The lady bishop, it turned out, was completely different from him, clad in sparrow-like brown feathers with a touch of yellow on the head and neck. So contrasting are the male and female in looks that it is possible for them to be mistaken as two different species.

The disappointment of not finding my two target birds was exacerbated by the fact that I saw and photographed two species that are painfully similar to those that I sought. The American Pipit only differs from the rarer Red-throated Pipit by the lack of streaking on its back.

And the Chipping Sparrow only differs from my hoped-for Clay-colored Sparrow by the darker line across its eyes.

The alarming regularity that Santa Fe Dam has denied me the satisfaction of sighting lifer species was somehow daunting. And yet as Cicero, the famous Roman orator and philosopher once said: Dum spiro, spero - While I breathe, I hope.

A Pectoral Pictorial

I returned to San Joaquin Wildlife Sanctuary last Tuesday, Sept. 9th, to hopefully find and photograph the Solitary Sandpiper. Luck was not with me as once again I dipped on that bird. It never showed up in the whole 5 hours I was there!

Fortunately, another uncommon species, the Pectoral Sandpiper, has been the epitome of avian cooperation. The moment I arrived at the eastern end of Pond C, this lovely bird showed up and proceeded to hunt for food about 25 feet away from me.

When I have had my fill of the Pectoral, I continued to scan the pond with the hope that the Solitary would somehow pop up. Through this endeavor, I was to have good looks at the other feathered occupants of the pond. Of particular interest was the strange fishing habit of a Black-crowned Night Heron. Normally, a heron would stand almost motionless by the banks of a pond or river and wait patiently for a tiny fish to swim close. It would then suddenly strike with its long beak to grab the unfortunate victim. This particular one however, swims or rather floats, on the pond and watches for an approaching fish. Then it would jump off the water, and then dive for the fish, much like how the pelicans would catch their prey.

A little after 2 pm, with the Solitary Sandpiper doing a no-show, I decided to pack it up. I guess that species will be my new grail bird. It took me four years to finally get a picture of the Elegant Trogon - my very first grail bird. Hopefully it won't take that long for me to finally get a shot at the Solitary Sandpiper.

Grumpy Old Man

I can't explain why I've been a little grumpy lately. It seemed like small disappointments always had such profound effect on my overall demeanor. By and large I am even-tempered, even approaching nonchalance in my attitude towards life. As of late, however, perhaps subconsciously, I wanted higher returns on our "investments".

Consider our last trip to Texas. We spent about $1,000.00 for a 5-day birding vacation. Please realize that I am unemployed and my wife's pay is not quite renumerative and thus this travel leaves quite a dent in our budget. We went to Texas with the expectations of adding a minimum of 40 species to our lifelist. I thought, OK, that is a good enough return for the cost of the trip. We eventually ended up with 30 species and despite that, I felt cheated. Maybe our car accident on the first day contributed to my moodiness and resulted in some poor decisions as to places and times to go birding. We could easily have added 10 more to our lifelist if only...we ventured further into the Bolivar Peninsula, if only we joined the Rail Walk at Anahuac, if only we birded on the morning of our last day, and so on and so forth.

Then last Saturday, with the cost of gasoline at near $4 a gallon, we travelled some 60 miles (one way) to try for the Hermit Warbler and Lazuli Bunting in Costa Mesa. We missed both birds and that made me unhappy despite seeing the equally uncommon MacGillivray's and Yellow Warblers. Dipping on our target species and a general lack of good sightings at the places we visited gave me the conclusion that we had a poor return on our gasoline expenses. That made me a bit morose.

And so, I apologize for the caustic tone of my recent blogs. Things will change for sure and I know I will soon learn to appreciate again the joys that birding can bring.

Surely this is nothing that a pint of Ben & Jerry's can't cure.