3rd night; 3rd Frogmouth!....BORNEO (28 June)

Four our second full day at the wonderful Borneo Rainforest Lodge in Danum Valley, we changed tack. Rather than walking out from the lodge and into the forest, (as we'd done before), we drove out and birded the road and trails further afield. Our main aim for our starting port of call was to see the endemic White-fronted (Bornean) Falconet, which was said to be coming to prey on insects that were attracted to a small building that left its lights on overnight. On arrival at the building the insect harvest was not too impressive, and so may have explained the reason for a complete lack of falconet. We did however, pick up a pair of Diard’s Trogon as some form of avian compensation. Moving back towards the forest trails again our eagle-eyed local guide spotted a tiny bird sitting on a distant dead snag, which turned out to be the world’s smallest raptor, none other than a White-fronted Falconet! However, our local guide, Azmil, was not done just yet; as we peered gratefully at the falconet, he gestured up front, where our first Bornean Orangutan was foraging languidly in a tree ahead of us. Late in the morning, there was palpable relief when we finally connected with a cerulean-capped male Blue-headed Pitta, one of the most stunning endemic species on the island of Borneo, (that is home to more than 50 birds found nowhere else).

The remainder of the day was often like pulling teeth, with long periods of inactivity, with target birds calling at us, but remaining hidden (including the now daily taunt from one of the local Bornean Banded Pittas!), and studded with a smattering of new birds, like Long-billed (Large-billed) Blue Flycatcher and Rufous-backed Dwarf-Kingfisher, and another Bornean Blue Flycatcher. It was becoming traditional to see something spectacular over lunch from the lodge, (after yesterday’s Black-and-yellow Broadbill, and the day before’s Yellow-rumped Flowerpecker), and this day was no different, with a pair of Rhinoceros Hornbills interrupting the well-stocked buffet. In the evening, the group made different choices, some like Gary and Gail, headed out on another night drive in the hope of rare mammals, while Chris and I went in search of nightbirds closer to the lodge. We were hoping to add to the confusingly low number of sightings of Oriental Bay Owl on the lodge property, but heard not a peep from that locally rare species. However, we did find the regular Brown Wood-Owl hanging out near the staff quarters, which was new for the trip. As we left the owl behind some red eye shine revealed an absurdly confiding Leopard Cat, hanging around the same area too. I was determined to find some more nightbirds, which are only recently becoming better known at this site; however, Chris was done and headed back for bourbon and bed.

My personal goal was to track down an Oriental Bay Owl or a Gould’s Frogmouth. The former was, of course, highly unlikely, and the latter was known to be around, but I was informed “never” came in to playback. This was like a red rag to a bull for me. I only knew a rough area where it had been seen (i.e. the name of the trail and no more), and so set off there, and played the call hoping for this denizen of the night to respond. Amazingly, it only took a few tries to receive a reply. I began to feel cocky, instantly; this was going to be easy. However, 30 minutes passed and I felt no closer to seeing the bird, so maybe the local guide was right after all, (they usually are). I took a break from that and went off in search of other nightbirds, but, finding nothing, headed back. On the way back I heard, once again, the Gould’s Frogmouth taunting me all over again. I decided to have one last try, so I found a spot with some nice, close perches that were begging to be used by a frogmouth, and tried playing back its call again. Suddenly, this stubborn bird, which had previously seemed unmoved by my overtures, was calling right on top of me! I swept the near branches with the spotlight, and there it was glaring back at me with large cheek whiskers, and bold eyes. I was stoked, and quickly reeled off a set of photos, fearing it would swiftly return to its earlier, considerably more lofty perch. However, it merely remained there, glued to its branch, until I walked away. I got back to my lodge cabin after 10pm, sweat-drenched, and ready for a shower, but quickly noticed that Gary and Gail’s cabin lights were still on. Dare I ask them if they were interested in a sweaty 20-minute walk for a frogmouth which had likely moved on? Of course I did, as I so wanted someone else to see this bird! I was expecting, at this late hour, that a grumpy "NO!" would come back at me, but Gary quickly revealed his keenness to try and Gail was quick to follow too. Once leech socks were donned again, we returned to the spot, and to my utter shock, the bird was still sitting quietly on the very same perch, near eye level. The outcome: THREE nights, THREE frogmouths! (1 Blyth’s, 2 Large, and 3 Gould’s), a series I am unlikely to repeat too soon.

The Land of Owls...SULAWESI (21st-22nd Aug.)

Islands are great places to be for fans of owls, as they often boast a few species of their own. The large Indonesian island of Sulawesi is an endemic hotspot, claiming more than 80 bird species all of its own, with some pretty spectacular ones among them. This impressive number of birds found nowhere else includes no less than SIX owls; fantastic for someone like me. Earlier on the tour, in Lore Lindu, we had seen the Cinnabar Boobook, an undiscovered owl until 1999, when a dusty specimen was examined more closely, but curiously now rather straightforward to find. We had also seen, if only poorly another owl endemic to this starfish-shaped island, the Speckled Boobook. However we had hopelessly failed in our attempts to find the powerfully built Sulawesi Masked Owl, a relative of the widespread Barn Owl. After our time in Lore Lindu in Central Sulawesi, we travelled north to the Minahassa Peninsula of North Sulawesi, and arguably one of Asia's finest reserves for birding, Tangkoko. I was looking forward to this greatly, as the combination of open forests, and an excellent local guide, who I admire greatly, by the name of Samuel, usually yield impressive bird lists. On top of that there are a few quirky endemic mammals to find there too, and for whatever reason, it is also an extraordinary place for kingfishers, boasting an incredible 10 species within its borders!

We arrived late in the afternoon, on a windy afternoon that prevented us from seeing too much, but still saw a Sulawesi Scops-Owl (YES, another endemic species!) at close range in our lodge garden before we slept that night. The next day was one of my best day's birding in Asia ever, and that is not an exaggeration. I will mention more on the other birds of that day later, but first to owls...

After stumbling into a Red-backed Thrush early on and walking our way through the forest from one kingfisher (first Green-backed Kingfisher) to another (then Lilac-cheeked), both of which followed a Ruddy Kingfisher in the garden of the lodge at dawn; we were interrupted by the sound of Samuel's mobile phone. Normally I might be offended by such urban sounds in the jungle, but I knew better than to be offended. I knew, more often than not, a ringing phone meant birds at the other end of the line. For in Tangkoko, often guides work in tandem, and you regularly do not realise another guide is working hard for you, until you are led to them standing by an extraordinary find.  The news at the end of the line was that our fellow guide, hidden somewhere else in the jungle, and unbeknown to us where, had walked into a day roosting Sulawesi Masked Owl! This was great news and we changed our course in the direction of this other guide that at least Samuel knew where he was! As we walked with our minds on a large owl waiting for us deeper into the forest, one of the group voiced a thought that I had daren't mention out loud. Dave remarked "Is he sure it is not a Minahassa Masked Owl?!" To explain there are 2 species of Barn Owl-like owls on Sulawesi, the aforementioned, and reasonably widespread Sulawesi Masked Owl (typically found outside deep forest), and the much rarer, tawny-coloured, and smaller, Minahassa Masked Owl. At this point, I confessed to Dave that this thought had indeed crossed my mind, and that I merely did not state it for fear of jinxing this or raising the bar on our expectations. Samuel, intriguingly, admitted that the junior guide waiting with the owl may well not be familiar of the subtle differences between these two closely related species. I think that it is quite possible that our pace quickened with this new found knowledge. Finally, after sweating our way up and down hills, and being made all the more nervous as we approached by Samuel's admission that birds like this found roosting can easily be unintentionally disturbed, so could flea the scene before our arrival -  - Panic!

As we approached this "junior" guide, who of course seemed anything but "junior" following this magnificent find, he casually pointed towards a tawny, exposed owl sitting almost at eye level! Having never seen one before, I was slow to say it, but Samuel was quick to confirm my incredulous thoughts: "Minahassa, Minahassa!" he exclaimed excitedly. Shockingly, we were face-to-face with a daytime Minahassa Masked-Owl and it was a simply wonderful view. The great view, the rarity of seeing one, let alone during the day, led this to be a popular entry into the TOP FIVE BIRDS OF THE TOUR. For me anyway, being an unashamed "owlaphile", this was the BIRD OF THE TRIP standing head and shoulders above all else, including the Geomalia, which I thought could not possibly be beaten. However, I had not counted in seeing this species at all! We closed the morning with another, thought more regular and predictable, day roosting owl (Ochre-bellied Boobook), and then in the evening, following a surprise flyover from a Sulawesi Masked-Owl lit up by the torch, could not resist another look at our local Sulawesi Scops-Owl at the lodge again. Through the day and night we had actually seen SIX different owls (1 Minhassa Masked Owl in the day, 3 different day roosting Ochre-bellied Boobooks, 1 Sulawesi Masked Owl in the evening, and a Sulawesi Scops-Owl). Thus, I find myself referring to Sulawesi as "The Land of the Owls", and who could argue after a day like that!

The Land of Wood, Water...and Owls! (JAMAICA) 21st March

I left the Andes of Ecuador behind, and flew via Miami to Kingston in Jamaica, for my first Caribbean birding trip. I was excited on many levels; there are up to (dependent on taxonomy) 29 endemic birds on Jamaica; I had grown up listening to something Jamaica is rightly famous for, reggae music (my late father had a reggae-themed record store-in the days of vinyl-named "Hard Times"); and on top of all of that one of those endemic birds I would be chasing, also represented an entirely new family for me, and one I wanted badly, the Todies.

I arrived in Kingston and met up with my local guide, Ricardo Miller. He was dressed in street clothes and I was a little intimidated in my birding attire, next to his cool appearance; cool is something Jamaicans do well, (relative to me anyway!) After some shopping, and my first taste of jerk chicken, a traditional mildly spicy Jamaican dish, we were soon leaving Kingston in the rear view mirror. There were many things during this brief Caribbean sojourn that had me thinking back to days long gone by, and my youth. The reggae music, brought memories of my father, and the drumming beats that would dominate our house in my childhood years; and the mere name of the capital city too, as I was born in the English town of Kingston-upon-Thames. Of course, many Jamaican names bear the brunt of years of British colonial rule, and passing through the army base of Newcastle, as we ascended into the Blue Mountains that afternoon, reminded me again of that.

My afternoon arrival left me a little resigned to the fact that the tap of endemics would not really be opened until the next day; although in just a few hours of  daylight I was proved very wrong. As this was my first Caribbean forray, I was looking for lifers outside of the Jamaican endemic birds too, with some wider Caribbean species also likely. Indeed, the first of these came while going for jerk chicken, right in the heart of Kingston; a colony of Antillean Palm Swifts were present in the mall car park, and my first lifer in Jamaica was readily notched up. Filled up with jerk, we headed up into the Blue Mountains, and as we climbed a large, lumbering shape was seen loping along a branch; I recognised the motion well, as I had seen Squirrel Cuckoos do this many times. However, there are no Squirrel Cuckoos in Jamaica. it turned out to be a bird known to Jamaicans as the "Old Man Bird", better known to birders as Chestnut-bellied Cuckoo, a spectacular endemic species the size of a Gyrfalcon. It was a good bird to get as one of the first endemics! Aside from that a bird known locally as "Hopping Dick", appropriately hopped on and off the road-White-chinned Thrush.  

When I left for Jamaica my good friend Lee Dingain had laid down a challenge to go and photograph the Jamaican Owl. I was up for the challenge, but even in my wildest dreams did not expect to meet the challenge on my first night! As the veil of darkness was half-drawn, as we neared the tiny hamlet of Section, a piercing scream came out of the forest. Now, Jamaican Owls are known for their haunting calls, well deserved of any horror movie, although they do not scream. Indeed, their ghastly calls have lent them to be regarded as bad luck if heard on your property. However, the call sounded eerily like a young Long-eared Owl, and so I guessed it was a young owl. Jamaica only has 2 owl species in total, and knowing this was not the call of the Barn Owl, the Jamaican Owl was firmly on the table. Trouble was I was far from ready; my binoculars were out, and poised, but both my flashlight and camera were still packed in the boot. I daren't scan for the bird until my camera was "in position", and so I pulled out my torch, loaded the batteries, and slung my camera over my shoulder. That sounds quick, but it felt like an age when a young owl calls and calls nearby! Once I was ready I begun scanning the trees beside the road, and not long after my beam fell on a ginger-colored figure sat on a branch, a superb Jamaican Owl, which led to my very first bird photo in Jamaica; I was more than happy with that!!!

More from Jamaica's Blue Mountains to follow...

Cinnamon and Spice and all things nice! PERU (10th Sept.)

With dusk approaching our plans were single-minded for the evening; look for the most enigmatic owl in all of Peru: Long-whiskered Owlet. We were staying at Owlet Lodge, after which the lodge was named, so we were in the right place (indeed pretty much the only place from where the owl is known). We had bumped into another group a few days before and had worked out that from our second night at the lodge we would overlap. They were a perfectly friendly and amiable group, but feared that two groups searching for the owlet on the same night might be a little crowded, and so we had planned to look for it on the single free night we were at the lodge alone, before they arrived. However, when we arrived at the lodge (near to dusk), we saw the very same group heading off down the trail for the owlet! They were here one day earlier than we had thought, and what's more had trumped us by going straight for the owl, before we had even checked in! Our plans needed a rapid rethink. Nick Athanas, the official guide for this trip, where I was tagging along, spoke to the lodge staff and soon got confirmation of a place downslope, where a new private reserve was being set up and had the owlet. Nick had this in his back pocket anyway, as a back up site if the lodge plan faltered. So the natural thing to do was visit the back-up site first; which we did. After dumping our bags in our rooms, and grabbing our torches, we headed straight to the "back pocket site"; we were led to believe there was a ranger on site 24 hours and all we needed to do was simply turn up, talk to him (and pay of course), and he would take us to his known owlet spot. However, on arriving we found an abandoned reserve with no human presence at all. Nick gestured for me to do up the trail with Mark and Rick, and try for the owl while he busied himself finding a human! Night was threatening to come, and in the tropics, night falls like a switch, none of this gradual on set of dusk, as we know it in the north; it approaches rapidly and falls almost instantly. Thus, not long after we were in owlet time, with a starry night and bright moon overhead, just the conditions we could have hoped for. However, we could have hoped for a bit more local knowledge of where to look! Thankfully, I soon heard voices and noticed a spotlight approaching behind; Nick had found a human, and the right one too; the ranger had been having dinner and was away for the short time when we arrived! Now he was here, he was with us, and knew exactly where to look for the owlet. He led us a short distance up the trail, gave us  a run down of what we needed to do, and Nick pressed play on his I-Pod. Minutes later, a clear call from the Long-whiskered Owlet was heard, ad goose bumps dotted my arms; it was close. We tried drawing it in even closer, but the stubborn little owl refused to budge. The local ranger was unphased though, instructed us to stay put, while he went to try and find it perched. He'd barely been gone minutes when he called us up, he had his spotlight planted right on this tiny owl! Me being a Tropical Birding guide on holiday on a Tropical Birding tour, did the genial thing and stayed at the back, thinking that once Rick and Mark had had their fill, I could move in for better looks. Unfortunately, the owlet left before I was able to do so, and I felt a little miffed I had not seen it's face, and it's famous whiskers better. But I was lucky enough to have seen this rare owl, and we were fortunate enough to have seen it at our first attempt. We arrived back the lodge for dinner triumphant, but on hearing the other group had not seen the owlet where they had tried, we had to mute our celebrations somewhat.

After dinner, and feeling luck was on our side, we opted for some further owling around the lodge, for this region is rich in owls, and we were enjoying the fruits of this on the trip, and did not want it to end. We visited their small canopy tower a few hundred meters from our cabins, and called in a White-throated Screech-Owl successfully, although it never sat where photos were an option unfortunately. We also heard a Rufous-banded Owl from their, but could not get it to come closer. Recognising this was another rare night for owls (I mean we had seen two species and heard three with relatively little time in the field), I was keen to head on further down the trail for another species, and one which I had not seen: Cinnamon Screech-Owl. However, with the clock pushing past ten o'clock, all the same people in the group turned the offer down to join me. So I found myself alone, walking on down unfamiliar trails. However, I was in my element, owls were calling regularly-I heard another (thought distant) Long-whiskered Owlet, another Rufous-banded Owl (equally as stubborn and uncooperative as the first), and so felt good about my chances. It seemed a vocal night for owls. I continued on down the trail, every so often playing the call of Cinnamon Screech-Owl in the hope of hearing an answer. I was not really sure how far I'd come (and had been told that the magic marker for the owl was 700m); but at one point I was near certain I heard just the right call for my quarry. I played the call softly to check that my thoughts were right, and was then utterly convinced I had heard the Cinnamon Screech-Owl. I ploughed on down the trail, with my neadlamp lighting the way. A hundred meters or more further, I noticed something in the periphery of my vision sitting beside the trail, and it seemed to glow orange: CINNAMON SCREECH-OWL. None of this chasing it down and scrambling through undergrowth that I had envisaged, it was merely sitting by the trail, waiting for me to turn up!

I climbed into bed at 1 o'clock in the morning ecstatic at a three owl night (again) on the trip; and full of enthusiasm at what this exciting venue was going to produce the next day. We were not to be disappointed, as we enjoyed several excellent days birding in the area...

Don't Underestimate the Power of the Dark Side...PERU (9th Sept.)

After our bumper day in the Andean foothills, there were two options: 1) Accept your good fortune with a smile, and retire for the night; or 2) Get greedy and try to extend that luck to a bit of night birding near the lodge. We chose the latter! I am an owl fan of note, so this trip, which ended up with 12 different owls seen for the group, was ideally suited; thus my commitment to go out owling was never in doubt. Thankfully, Mark and Rick (the two tour participants), were dog-tired, like me, but just could not say no! The excellent local guide Carlos advised us that anything prior to 10PM was not worth it, so we it was a super-long day or nothing. We chose the tortuous option! I could not figure out way this late timing was important, as, traditionally, when searching for owls, when tapes are played to get a response, just after dusk or just before dawn (on clear nights) are usually the most fruitful. A quick scout for birds around the lodge earlier that evening failed to produce the Rufous Nightjar or the Spot-tailed Nightjar we'd seen the evening before, during an evening where clouds regularly featured in the night sky, compared with the beautiful clear night of the "Supermoon" the evening before. My fear was, that this night was simply not a good night for night birds. Anyway, we gathered by the bus at 10PM ready to launch another night foray, with plenty of cloud still present above, interspersed with periods of starry skies. Not perfect, but not disastrous either. Our first owl search was not what I was expecting. I was thinking that the guide would lead us to a spot and suggest I play a call for the stakeout species. But no, we proceeded five minutes drive from the lodge to a large power plant of some sort, sprinkled with many bright street lamps. Here, the guide Carlos advised us to check the posts by the lights for any owls. No recordings were played, but no owls were seen either. We swiftly moved, vowing to check the posts on our return journey. Next up, we scanned the cables along this far from quiet highway for any sign of a Striped Owl. Sadly this impressive owl did not feature either. Owls 2-US 0; the owls were winning this battle hands down. I was beginning to feel decidedly guilty at having dangled the "owl carrot" to the group, only to result in a tortuously late night with little payoff. Still, Carlos seemed unperturbed, and his continuing enthusiasm, and optimism was infectious; my dark thoughts of failed returns were kept locked inside my head! The next stop in this owl quest was another unlikely venue. We moved into the outskirts of the noisy city of Moyobamba, which could rightly have laid claim to the title "the city that never sleeps" at this time; cars and motorbikes zoomed around the city, heavy-bass, pumping disco music seemed to burst from every few houses, and the distinct lack of any large patch of bird habitat, all seemed the very antithesis of what you need to see owls. Under Carlos's instructions we left the bus, accompanied by the ever-present sounds of Latino dance music coming from across the street, and scanned a large university grounds for sign of our next quarry. There were a few scattered, tall Eucalypt trees bordering the building, but nothing in the way of what I would label decent habitat. Carlos expanded his information to us; gesturing to a large red-and-white cellphone antenna, he indicated our target owl, the magnificent Stygian Owl, regularly chooses to sit on the large aerial. However, it was abundantly clear the large red-and-white structure was completely owl-less. We walked around the border of the property scanning the few trees on its fringe with a spotlight for any sign large, reflecting red eyes staring back at us, but found nothing. Carlos led us to the busiest street that bordered the property, and suggested I play the tape (obviously just loud enough to be heard above the continuous dance music present), and told us to keep an eye for a large owl flying from one thin strip of trees to another. With a distinct lack of belief that any owl would respond while the town was still deep within party mode, I followed his request all the same. Amazingly, within just a few seconds of play, a huge owl sailed overhead, lit up by the spotlight, and glided onto an open branch above us! We watched, quite literally open-mouthed, as the Stygian Owl called back and glared at us from its lofty perch, accompanied by the unwanted sound of Latino club music! A curious and unlikely scene for seeing a rarely seen owl. Carlos told us that the owls had been discovered here in just the last few years, at an elevation fully 1000m lower than their stated altitudinal range in the excellent Peru field guide. Stygian means "Dark" and the owl certainly appeared that; dark and menacing.

After enjoying excellent views and taking a few snapshots, we headed back towards the lodge, once more failing to find a Striped Owl on the return journey. A short time before turning back into the lodge, we stopped again at the plant with the bright street lamps, but found the posts still missing any owls. Rick glimpsed an owl, which gave us renewed hope, and moments later a Black-banded Owl (sadly missing an eye), sitting right out in the open next to one of the bright street lamps! Another unlikely setting for a normally tricky owl species! As we drove back the short distance to the lodge, Carlos lit up another owl-Ferruginous Pygmy-Owl-sitting on a fencepost to complete a three-owl night, all seen within one hour! A remarkable end, to a remarkable day.

Next stop was Abra Patricia, the cloudforest realm of the rare and much wanted Long-whiskered Owlet...