Francis of Assist See

We kept hearing the "cu-cu-cu" coming from behind the trees. We looked at where that sound was supposedly coming from but didn't see anything. After a while it came out and for a couple of minutes dried itself in the sun. The Philippine Coucal was our first bird that morning along the road going to Infanta. 

From there we stopped by the places where the hagimit trees were. The fruit of this tree is a favorite food of several species of birds. Unfortunately, summer had come and the fruits were all gone at the areas we visited. Except for one place. We saw friends Conrad and Ralf inside a compound as we were driving by. We quickly joined them and they introduced us to Francis, the overseer of that place. Close to their lawn was a huge hagimit tree with lots of fruits still. While we were catching up with our friends, Francis pointed at the tree, "Buzzing Flowerpeckers," he said. Indeed a pair of that species came and started feeding on the red berries. 

There was a lull after the flowerpeckers left. Then, "Philippine Pygmy Woodpecker!" Francis once again pointed to the fruiting tree.

This routine had become the norm of that morning. Francis, who was lounging on a hammock, would get up when he hears some bird call, look for the source of that call, and assist us to see the bird that would appear in the area. Two more species were shown to us: the Elegant Tit..

and the colorful Olive-backed Flowerpecker.

Around 9 am Cynthia and I decided to go visit the area where the Paddyfield Pipits are sure sightings. We promised to be back by 10:30 as that was the usual time that the Philippine Hanging Parrot was supposed to come to the fruiting tree.

Unfortunately, there were some "tourists" at the Pipit domain. We did see the bird but it was a bit skittish, unlike before, and I never got a good photo of it. On the other hand, farther down the road, a Striated Grassbird posed for us.

By 10:30 we were back at Francis' place. But the Parakeet never showed up. Only the Buzzing and Olive-backed Flowerpecker returned. Conrad told us that about 3 minutes after we left, a Stripe-headed Rhabdornis came, followed later by a Flaming Sunbird. Ah, if only we had stayed and benefited some more from Francis' assistance at seeing the birds in his neighborhood.

Yes, No, and Not Yet

The dark gloomy skies of my recent heartbreaking experiences (see my previous blogs) continued to darken whatever enthusiasm I have for bird photography. The most recent one was our failure to see the migrant Chestnut-cheeked Starlings at the premises of the Avilon Zoo. Those birds were seen and photographed the before we came. The day after our visit, friends were once again able to capture the images of those starlings. I was in that kind of funk when I got a PM Thursday night from Mhark Gee, the guide at Avilon. He said that the starlings were now in a different area, are more plentiful, and can easily be seen as they feed on the fruits of the ficus tree. I took a deep breath, murmured a silent prayer and then consulted my wife. Cynthia agreed to go the next day. I quickly replied to Mhark telling him that we will try our luck again.

Friday morning we were at Avilon even before they opened. A little before 8 am, Mhark came and took us to the "site". He pointed at the ficus tree and assured me that our target birds will soon be there. After a few minutes, a female appeared, at some distance, and behind some leaves. Again, Mhark gave us the assurance that they will come closer and more in the open. After about an hour that seemed like an eternity, the female once again appeared, and as our friend said, was out in the open.

Then came a few boisterous Crested Mynas that caused the shy starlings to lie low for a while.

After the Mynas left, the emboldened Chestnut-cheeked birds continued their feeding on the red fruits. This time we were able to capture the image of the more colorful male.

Elated that we had finally overcame the pall of gloom over my bird photography, we consented to Mhark's suggestion that we look for the other "stars" of this place: the Spotted Wood Kingfisher and the Indigo Banded Kingfisher. We did see "Spotty" but it was partly covered and in a dark area and Indigo was a no-show. Although we missed both, it was not a disappointment for us since we already had good photos of the two species of kingfishers.

Around 11 am, we said goodbye to our friend and thanked him profusely for helping us - me, more so - to get over my miseries.

Spurred by the apparent turn of events, Cynthia and I agreed to re-visit the Infanta road the next day. It was drizzling when we left the house early Saturday morning. It even poured hard as we were having breakfast at Pico de Pino in Tanay. Eventually, the skies cleared up a bit when we reached our destination. There were moments when mist covered the hillside where the birds usually frolic. However, despite the help of friends Tonji and Sylvia, our target species - the Olive-backed Flowerpecker once again failed to appear. It was deja vu as none of our hoped for lifer still remained unticked in our list. It wasn't a complete disaster because thanks to another friend, Anthony, we saw a Changeable Hawk-Eagle high up on the hillside. This was the first sighting of this species in this area, as far as we know. 

As we endured the horrendous traffic going home, I remembered one of the preachings I heard at Victory Ortigas. The Pastor said that God answers our prayers in three different ways: Yes, No, and Not Yet. To me that explained the experiences I had the past couple of months. My heart is now at peace.

Acquiring Migrants

It was another disappointing trip to Infanta. The reason I could think of was that the fruits and the flowers were now gone. And the surprisingly late rainy season.

Our very first bird though was seen and photographed while we were still halfway to our destination. Rather the usual Barred Rails, it was the comparatively more shy Plain Bush Hen that posed at the roadside.

Although the usual wave of mixed flocks did appear around 10 am, they were now farther than where they used to gather and therefore much more difficult to photograph.

Thankfully, the migrants were more cooperative. Of course, one can never miss the Brown Shrike.

This Grey Wagtail kept flying over the road ahead if us then suddenly stopped and perched on a boulder. We wondered why it had one foot raised up all the while it was resting on the said boulder.

And finally, we were rewarded with some good views of a colorful male Blue Rock Thrush. We saw a female earlier, but it was on a tall tree branch and was terribly backlit.

Again, just like last week, our birding trip was cut short by a downpour.

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.

Meeting an Old Flame

We wanted something new. Something we have not experienced before. Something that would make our collective hearts beat faster. Something that would burn the flame of our desires. 

Alas, it was an old flame that showed up.

A group of birders had been very fortunate to see the rare Flame-breasted Fruit Dove just a week ago. That species would be a lifer for all four of us - me, my wife, and friends, Peter and Wenxing. So we planned to go to Infanta on Saturday morning.

Friday evening typhoon Jolina battered the east coast of Luzon. At 4 am Saturday, rain was still pouring hard. Peter asked if we are still good to go. Having researched the internet and learning that the typhoon was supposed to exit Luzon at around 2 am, I told him that Cynthia and I are willing to take the chance. Wenxing agreed with us.

Six in the morning as we were passing through Boso-boso in Antipolo, the heavy downpour still hasn't abated at all. We were all silent - our minds battling whether we should keep going or just give up and turn back. As we approached Baras, rain finally stopped but dark clouds still covered the skies. At Sampaloc, we looked at the horizon and our hopes were buoyed. When we reached our destination the sun was shining gloriously. 

However despite the seemingly promising morning, our desired encounter with a new Flame never happened. Yes, we heard it, cooing within the dark recesses of the tall trees in front of us. That taunting, haunting, deep "hummm" echoed intermittently the whole time we were there.

But as I mentioned earlier, all was not for naught. A gorgeous Flame that we have had the pleasure of meeting before in Los Banos not only just showed up, it stayed long enough giving us the much needed satisfaction we had yearned so much.

Flaming Sunbird

Another totally unexpected grace was when the normally skulker of a bird paraded before us, flaunting its glamor like a beauty queen contestant.

Scale-feathered Malkoha

At around 10:30 we gave up on the uncooperative Fruit Dove and had lunch at nearby Jeriel's Peak. It was there that our closing photographic endeavors was provided by a Citrine Canary Flycatcher.

As we drove home, we wondered if we would be given another chance to be enamored by that elusive Flame.

Sunday morning, I got a text message from Wenxing saying he got the Flame-breasted Fruit Dove. 

I.....felt........

Infanta Side

It had been a long birding hiatus for me and my wife. We blamed it on the fickle weather of course. June and the early part of July were exceedingly hot. So hot that we dared not leave the paradise of our airconditioned room. After that came the rains. The thought of getting drenched or even sloshing through mud dampened whatever birding spirit we had.

Then came the news that spread all over the birding community - an uncommon flowerpecker had been sighted. Quite easily at that. So I communicated with a couple of birders who had been so lucky to get close up shots of this flowerpecker. Thanks to Loel and Virgilio, I was able to get specific details on the exact spot where I would be able to see and photograph my newest lifer. It can be seen from the side of the road, they both affirmed.

Saturday morning we were at the road going to Infanta. At first we were concerned about the weather as dense fog greeted us when we came into the Infanta side. 

However as we neared our destination the sun broke through and brightened up the morning. It was at this roadside near the Kilometer 95 marker that our target feeds on the red fruits of the Hagimit tree. There were already some fellow birders when we got there but no one had seen the Olive-backed Flowerpecker yet. Try the area near Kilometer 98 we were told. We did. Again more fellow birders were already gathered there. However they were after a different species - the Philippine Fairy Bluebird. That would have been a lifer for us too but it was a no show, the fruits of the tree that it frequented were now gone.

We went back to specific spot near Kilometer 95. This time I found the Hagimit tree. Sadly, the fruits were almost gone as well. I patiently staked out the spot while Cynthia surveyed the roadside looking for any bird to photograph. After sitting inside our car - which was parked in front the Hagimit tree -for about half an hour, a tiny, nondescript bird appeared. It started feeding on the red berries. I thought I got my hoped for lifer but looking at the bird, it was duller in color and had a longer, down curved bill. Buzzing Flowerpecker, I sighed, inasmuch as this was not a lifer. Nevertheless, I still took some photos. 

It was actually a part of a "wave" of several species of birds that came to the area. After the "wave" had passed I joined my wife in looking at the trees by the roadside. We got some shots of a Yellowish White-eye.  

After about an hour, another "wave" came. Once again it was just the Buzzing Flowerpecker that came to feed on the fruits. Our birder friends decided to go to the trail to search for the Yellow-breasted Fruit Dove. Since it was a narrow, slippery, downward trail, we opted not to risk our tender and aging bodies.

Our birding buddy, Bong, also decided to stay. We all went to the Kilometer 98 area. Another flock came passing by. This time we got some shots of the Blue-headed Fantail and the Elegant Tit.

By ten o'clock bird activity had died down considerably. Accepting the fact that there won't be a new addition to our life list, Cynthia and I agreed to call it a day. A few minutes later as we were driving home, heavy rain started to fall.

Blue Rock Year Continues…..

Cynthia and I went birding at the campus of the University of the Philippines in Diliman. It was sort of a last minute decision. I did not want to go to Candaba because our vehicle still has this strange noise emanating from the front left wheel whenever I step on the brakes. It breaking down in a middle-of-nowhere place like the Candaba Wetlands would be a nightmare.

So to U.P. we went with not much expectations. Things did not augur well because as we were skirting the sides of the Marine Science Institute (MSI) building, I saw a big (a relative term, considering it was bigger than the usual birds in the area) bird fly by and stop for a short while on a branch across from us. Since it was still dark at a little after six am, I couldn't make a definite ID of this species. I knew it was a cuckoo of some sort, but that was as much as I could tell.

With nothing much to see at the MSI area, we decided to go to the vicinity of the Vargas Museum. 

"Let's go to Miranda Hall first," my wife suggested, "and maybe see a Blue Rock Thrush?"

I, of course, agreed. As we were about to park, Cynthia saw it right away! She took some quick shots. I parked the car and as we got off, some delivery guy came and parked his bike right beneath where the thrush was perched. That naturally spooked our favorite bird. 

With the colorful migrant gone, we proceeded to the Vargas Museum. It was unusually quiet. We asked the security guard if the Philippine Nightjar was still in the area. He replied in the negative. From there we went to Beta Way which was also devoid of any birdlife. We walked towards the pond at the sunken garden. It is now safe to say it was "once a pond a time". The place was just a muddy area filled with grass and lotus plants. Needless to say the hoped for kingfishers were no longer there.  

It was the Main Library next. Not much there either, except for a pair of Java Sparrows perched high up on the ledge. Luckily, one of the two flew to a nearby pine tree to gather what I believe to be nesting materials. 

Also nearby were a cooperative pair of Pied Trillers.

male. the female was foraging nearby

Lowland White-eyes were plentiful. However they were so hyperactive, so tiny, and preferred the upper portion of the trees that despite a barrage of shots from me and my wife, none came out acceptable. Not even what we would consider as a "documentary" photo.

Our return to Miranda Hall was luckier this time around. The young male Blue Rock Thrush stayed long enough for us to be able to get good pictures.

A foray at the parking lot of the Chemistry building yielded the resident Long-tailed Shrike.

Back at MSI, we met fellow birders Doc Mando and Jonas Liwag. We told them about the Blue Rock Thrush at Miranda Hall and in return Doc Mando showed me an excellent photo of the Rusty-breasted Cuckoo he got a little earlier. We scouted the area where he said he saw it but found nothing. Our friends also said that they saw the Philippine Nightjar sleeping on a mango tree branch right across the Landbank ATM. We checked out the place and couldn't find the nocturnal bird. Thankfully, Doc Mando came and noticed the frustration in our faces. He showed us the exact location of the nightjar and indeed there it was peacefully snoozing the day away. 

After we got some shots of the endemic bird, we thanked our friend profusely and bade our farewell.

We had been fasting for the past five days so now as we headed home, we were looking forward to having a sumptuous lunch and also to celebrate our second sighting of a Blue Rock Thrush in such a short span of time.

If it should rain, we'll let it

"It's raining, are we still good to go?" I texted our friend, Bong.

"We're already on our way!" he texted back.

(Actually, even the night before we had already set our minds on going through our plan, weather conditions notwithstanding. If it should rain, we'll let it, because we were in the mood for birding.) 

My wife and I quickly loaded our gear in the car and drove off. Our destination: Candaba. Yes, Candaba, despite the pouring rain. For sure we will just use the concrete road that runs alongside the wetlands. To try the trails towards the interior would be short of suicidal and a guarantee that our vehicles would be stuck in the mucky ground.

Of course, we didn't expect to see a lot of birds. Not in this kind of rainy weather. We found a makeshift shed beside the road so Bong brought his gear there and was able to get a shot of a Common Kingfisher. When we joined him the kingfisher had gone and what was left was a forlorn and very wet Brown Shrike. Out of respect to its situation we did not bother taking its picture. 

Cynthia and I decided to drive ahead with the hope that we might see some rails - Barred and Buff-banded - along the way. Well, not a single rail showed up. In their place were White-breasted Waterhens, plenty of them, and each one as skittish as a mouse in a house full of cats. It's the rain, we rationalized.

However, for some birds, rain wasn't a deterrent and I was able to get a photo of an Intermediate Egret in flight while Cynthia was lucky enough to capture a female Pied Bush Chat.

Intermediate Egret

female Pied Bush Chat

As we continued on, my wife spotted some activity below us. True enough there were a bunch of waders! Black-winged Stilts, Wood Sandpipers, Long-toed Stints, Marsh Sandpipers and even a Common Greenshank were unmindful of the downpour and were busy foraging in the shallow waters.

Black-winged Stilt

Wood Sandpipers

Long-toed Stint

Marsh Sandpiper

Common Greenshank

On the road, among the scads of Eurasian Tree Sparrows, were a pair of Red Turtledoves also oblivious to the falling rain.

A little after nine in the morning, the rain abated and eventually ceased. That was when the Purple Herons became more active.

I was once again taking shots at the Stilts when Bong called my attention and pointed at something between us. "Long-tailed Shrike!" he informed me. I walked to where he was standing and saw the shrike - which suddenly took off and perched on stick closer to us!

My wife, on the other hand, was photographing something - a dark spot amid the raindrop-covered grass. "Snipe," she said, showing me a sleeping bird. I took a few token shots not really wanting an image of a bird whose long bill was tucked in its wing. But Cynthia was the more persistent type. A few minutes later she showed me a wide awake snipe, its bill very prominently displayed. As had been my lot, it was gone when I returned to where it was last seen by my wife.

At ten, Bong begged off because he had some family matters to attend to. Cynthia and I lingered for a short while, patiently going after those jumpy waterhens that would scamper into the bush as soon as we got to about a kilometer from them. Patience paid off and we finally got a more cooperative one.

That was the signal that we can now go home triumphantly. But first a celebratory lunch at the land of the golden arches awaits us.

Aw, Common!

Our early morning birding at the campus of the University of the Philippines at the onset was a disappointment. Brown Shrikes and Yellow-vented Bulbuls were the only species that were active. Oh, and a pair of Black-naped Orioles that looked like they were checking out if the new building being constructed was according to their specifications.

Of course, we got a de rigueur shot of the resident sleeper, the Philippine Nightjar.

"Let's try the lagoon and see if we can find the Common Kingfisher there," I suggested to Cynthia. It was a good suggestion because I got a tip from fellow birder, Mads Bajarias about the kingfisher inhabiting the lagoon, but I honestly didn't know exactly where the lagoon was. So my diligent wife started asking around and as serendipity would have it, the very first person (persons, actually - there were two of them) were off-duty security guards who gave her precise directions to the lagoon.

A short walk and there it was! It wasn't long before we got a glimpse of our quarry. However, it was too far even for my long lens and I just got a "documentary" shot. 

For close to two hours we waited for this "common" kingfisher to reappear and hoped it would be on a much nearer spot. Meanwhile our long wait had been alleviated by seeing two migrants: the Grey Wagtail and the Arctic Warbler (no good shots on both, unfortunately) - our FOS (first of season) sightings of both species.

Almost two hours had passed and our kingfisher was still teasingly refusing to show itself. I was getting antsy - yes, impatient, and also literally being crawled over by ants.

"Let's go!" I told my wife.

"Aw, c'mon, let's give it a few more minutes." she pleaded.

But I was adamant. She bargained by sweetly suggesting we go further down the trail "and maybe see some other birds?" I gave in. How can I not with that sugary smile and star-filled eyes. 

Even before we started to take the trail I saw it! I saw our Common Kingfisher with a fish in its beak! What followed was about half-an-hour's stalking and trying to get close enough so I can get the sought after FIM (food-in-mouth) shot. Which was a trying experience in itself because I would only take a few steps closer and it would fly off and alit on a branch farther away. Shouts of "Aw, c'mon, stay still, will ya?" punctuated those chases. Eventually, the tiny bird flew to where it was impossible for me to follow it.

"Did you get a good shot?" Cynthia asked eagerly.

I reviewed my photographic efforts and smiled at her.

We were already in the parking lot and packing our gear when Cynthia shouted, "Kingfisher!" I hastily pulled my camera out of the bag and hied to where she was standing and pointing at something. 

It was another FIM shot, this time with a Collared Kingfisher. 

Aw, c'mon, don't you think that that's a nice bonus?