skip to main |
skip to sidebar
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.
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.
We could see the dark clouds ominously gathering in the skies as we climbed the road to Mt. Palay-palay in Cavite. I was driving very slowly, both Cynthia and I scanning the trees alongside hoping to see some birds. We saw a lone Whiskered Treeswift earlier but it was too backlit for a good photograph. However a female Tarictic gave us some good views.
As we approached one of the many curves in the road, I saw a black bird foraging on the ground. Barred Rail I thought to myself. I eased our car to a stop and opened our windows. A blast of hot and humid air grabbed our faces. My wife's eyeglasses started to fog up. I brought the binoculars to my eyes and they almost popped out of the lenses. I urged Cynthia to start photographing this dark-colored bird while I with the least movement possible retrieved my gear from the trunk. Cynthia was a bit surprised at my actions thinking that this bird was just one those we have seen many times before. "Darling, this is a lifer for us!" I told her. "Plain Bush-hen!"
But the story didn't end there. Although it was one of those serendipitous encounters with a lifer, the strange events surrounding such encounter made us more than just a bit mystified. It's just that every time we saw this particular Bush-hen - and we spotted it at basically the same spot three times that morning - rain inevitably followed.
A few minutes after we saw our lifer, rain fell. Not just your ordinary pluvial downpour, this was hard, driving, torrential rain. It was as if we were driving under an endless waterfall. It was so strong that we had to pull over since visibility was almost zero despite the frantic to and from motion of our windshield wipers. About an hour later the rain stopped and the sun shone. Bright, warm sunshine greeted us as we arrived at the entrance of the Caylabne Resort. As I was stretching my body after driving for almost three hours, Cynthia yelled, "White! White! and pointed at something behind my back. I turned around and caught a glimpse of white on a tree at what seemed to be a kilometer away. I moved a few steps forward plunked my gear and peeped through my camera lens. A white-morphed Philippine Coucal! I took a couple of quick shots hoping to get at least a documentary shot before I attempt to get closer. Of course, it flew off the moment I took one single step forward.
We got back into the car and turned around, hoping to see more birds while it was still bright and sunny. Once again we saw the Plain Bush-hen not too far from where we first saw it. Just like before, it was completely oblivious of our presence. Then it rained. Another deluge. Another hour of sitting inside the car. When the skies cleared we returned to the Caylabne gate holding in our hearts a fervent hope that we will see the White Coucal again. Its non-appearance dashed our hopes into smithereens. While I was desperately seeking the enigmatic coucal, Cynthia was busy photographing something. "Elegant Tit!" she answered my unspoken question. I hurried and got my camera gear. As soon as I got to where she was, the tiny bird flew away.
Back on the road again. As soon as we passed by the Bush-hen territory it was deja vu as torrential rain fell from the skies. Forty-five minutes later the rain became a slight drizzle. Surprisingly that was when we saw the Philippine Falconets trying to dry themselves from the slowly emerging sun.
Further down the road we saw one flew over a coucal's nest (Please see my previous blog).
The trip home was punctuated by guess what? - interspersion of rain and sunshine. Even without a Plain Bush-hen in plain sight.
