A QUIET DAY AT NAKA-KARUIZAWA

Sun, 27 Nov 2011 12:44:17 +0000

I had visited Naka-Karuizawa once before, way back in 1995. That trip had been on a warm day in mid-May, and the woods were full of birdsong, a mellifluous chorus provided by Blue and White- and Narcissus Flycatchers, Japanese Bush Warblers and a host of other species. Having left Tokyo in the pre-dawn chill, as I stepped off the Shinakansen at Karuizawa station and pulled on my hat and gloves I reflected that today was likely to be a rather different experience.

The walk up from Naka-Karuizawa station was cold and quiet, with only a Japanese Wagtail to show for my concentration. As I turned right by the Hoshino Onsen hot springs and started up the Kose-Rindo forest road, I was struck by the ominous silence emanating from the extensive woodlands ahead. An hour later, and I had barely seen a bird, save for the ubiquitous tit-flocks containing Willow-, Great and Coal Tits but little else. The odd Brown Dipper made for an interesting diversion, but even these birds were shy and would flee upriver as soon as they caught a glimpse of me, moving at some speed despite the apparently limited propulsion provided by the stiff beating of their stumpy wings.

Brown Dipper, Kose-Rindo Road, Naka-Karuizawa, Japan

I walked all the way up to the Kose Onsen resort, and after four hours hard work had seen only a Japanese Accentor of note.

Japanese Accentor

I continued North, along a promising forest road that wound through a deserted campground. Despite good-looking habitat and having the place entirely to myself, birds were still exceedingly scarce, with only the odd flock of common birds to provide temporary distraction. After a couple more hours I tracked down a Red-flanked Bluetail, its presence betrayed by a quiet ‘wut-wut’ alarm call, like a distant thrush’s alarm note.

Red-flanked Bluetail

Along a particularly quiet section of a minor tributary of the Yukawa River I encountered the best bird of the day, a Solitary Snipe, which flushed from beneath my feet before arrowing down the river, never to be seen again. The species is little known in Japan, and seems decidedly uncommon this far South on Honshu, a fitting reward for my efforts in what must rank as one of my quietest ever days in the field in Asia.

TWITCHING, TOKYO-STYLE

Sat, 26 Nov 2011 12:17:27 +0000

I picked my way carefully through the station at 530am, the only sober person amongst the hordes of twenty-four hour party people heading home after a night of excess in the party town that is Shibuya. A quick hop across to Shinjuku station on the trusty Yamanote line, and I was in position ahead of schedule on the platform to catch the ‘Romancecar’ express to Shin-Matsuda. There I transferred to a local train, before alighting at Kayama. I walked East for fifteen minutes until I found the Sakawa-gawa (river) and then consulted my scrawled directions and barely-decipherable map.

Which way? I scanned the wide expanse of river in both directions, and as I reached the end of my swing to the south, focussed on a large group of people sporting an immense array of top-end cameras. I could not help but notice that every last one of the telephoto lenses was pointing in the same direction. That’ll be the spot then. I jogged south to the group, greeting the friendlier faces with one of the only three phrases I know in Japanese. They nodded, before focussing anew on the task in hand. I scanned through the ducks on the opposite shoreline...Spot-billed Duck...Spot-billed Duck...female Goosander...Oh my God. Male Scaly-sided Merganser.

Scaly-sided Merganser, near Kayama, Kanagawa Prefecture, Japan

In truth the drake S-SM is not a difficult bird to identify. It has a striking British Racing Green spiky crest that sticks out from the back of the head in a manner that suggests no amount of Brylcreem could tame it. The underparts are for the most part, dazzlingly white. Except, that is, for (you guessed it) the scaly sides, which are delicately scalloped in dark grey, forming a pattern that is as close to crazy paving as the duck world ever comes:

Scaly-sided Merganser

After an hour or two of watching the merganser I walked North along the river to see what else was around. A couple of Dusky Warblers played hide and seek in the dense scrub at the river’s edge, but a female Daurian Redstart was far more obliging:

female Daurian Redstart

After a further hour’s searching I tracked down the other species I had expected might find the river’s broad gravel bars to its liking: Long-billed Plover: 

I retraced my steps to Tokyo in time to take a spin around my ‘local patch’, the extensive parklands that surround the Meiji Jingu Shinto Temple, but a chill wind that had strengthened during the day meant that activity was very low. After a ¥1000 (about £9 at the current shocking exchange rate...) pint of celebratory Guinness in my local, ‘The Dubliners’ in Shibuya I hit the hay early to allow an early start the following morning...

Special thanks to Chris Cook for immaculate directions, and for alerting me to
the merganser’s presence in the first place.

BACK TO GUNUNG GEDE

Fri, 18 Nov 2011 11:24:40 +0000

Work once again brought me back to Asia, a whirlwind 12-day, 7 country business itinerary taking in Bangkok, Singapore, Jakarta, Hong Kong, Guangzhou, Seoul and Tokyo. Sadly, all locales except Thailand are for the most part pitta-free locations, and Thailand proved to be largely under water during my brief visit due to the terrible flooding that has hit the central plains during the last few weeks. Any pittas within striking range would have had to wear water wings in order to survive...My two free weekends did however allow a return visit to Gunung Gede, a mountain approximately four hours drive East of Jakarta, West Java, as well as a couple of day trips out of Tokyo on public transport.

I last visited Gede in May this year, but tht trip was pretty much a wash-out. This time however the weather Gods were relatviely kind, and my ex-German army poncho only had to be broken out on a couple of occasions during late afternoon downpours.

My first day on Gede this time was a Friday, and so I was determined to get as far up the mountain as possible given that the trails would be relatively quiet. It’s a tough 10km climb from the trailhead to the volcanic caldera at the very top, but the trail passes through pristine montane rainforest for almost its entire length, so there are always good birds to look at whenever you stop to catch your breath. The lower slopes as ever produced a few of West Java’s common species such as Sunda Blue Robins, Crescent-chested Babblers, and Lesser Shortwings. One individual of the latter species sang from a low songpost allowing a reasonable photo of this skulking understorey species:

Lesser Shortwing, Gunung Gede, November 2011

The normally elusive Pygmy Wren-Babblers were vocal and active, with one bird virtually standing on my toes as he came in to investigate the seductive kissing noises I was making to attract him:

Pygmy Wren-Babbler

Up at around 1500m I bumped into one of Gede’s star birds, a resplendent Javan Trogon, which posed for a photograph before disappearing back into the forest with a twitch of its tail:

Javan Trogon

As I gained altitude I encountered other members of Gede’s avifauna- a flock of eight endemic Spotted Crocias, Horsfield’s Babblers, Javan Fulvettas, and White-browed- and Chestnut-fronted Shrike-Babblers were all duly logged. A Javan Tesia dropped by too, interrupting its usual frenetic schedule for just long enough to allow me a single shot:

Javan Tesia

The higher slopes were as usual rather quiet, but a hint of movement within the foliage of a tiny fruiting tree above the highest camp ground indicated the presence of a bird feeding quietly in the canopy. A painstaking, stealthy approach provided the chance for me to identify the source of the disturbance, which proved to be a cracking 1st year male Siberian Thrush:

Siberian Thrush

The final climb from the t-junction above the upper campground to the summit is a gruelling two kilometre hike, and includes sections where you have to haul yourself up near-vertical rockfaces using the ropes provided. Sadly, having navigated these, and when I was only a few hundred metres short of the summit, I became enveloped in thick cloud, and I abandoned the last push to the summit. The spectacular views of the crater, (and high altitude species such as Volcano Swiftlet and Tawny-breasted Parrotfinch) would have to wait for another day.

On the Saturday morning I decided to spend a couple of hours at lower altitude trying once again to find the elusive Sunda Thrush, a near-mythical thrush in the genus Zoothera which has eluded me on many previous occasions. During 2008 and 2009 I knew that a relatively confiding bird had often been seen around the start of the main trail at dawn, but my local contacts had told me that this bird’s confiding nature had been its undoing, and that it had ended up as a cagebird. It seemed my chances to connect with this difficult species were worse than ever. I sat on the edge of the lower (‘interpretative’) trail behind the headquarters and waited for dawn to arrive. As the first glimmers of light flickered at the edge of the sky, I became aware of a shape at the edge of the path, a shape that immediately bounced off the trail and began to feed in the leaf litter next to the trail. Sunda Thrush! This tiny wraith fed nervously for a minute or so, before evaporating into the half-light like smoke in night air. I waited motionless for the next hour, but the bird did not return.

With the trail thronged with day-trippers climbing up to the waterfall, birds were less co-operative than they had been the day before, but nonetheless, the quality remained high throughout the morning. A Yellow-throated Hanging-Parrot shot past as I walked across the Botanical Gardens, a group of Sunda Minivets frolicked high above my head in the forest above the waterfall junction, and I bumped into what may be Gede’s only remaining White-bellied Fantail on the way up the mountain and amazingly, on the way back down too! This is my only sighting of the species at Gede in a number of trips, so to see it twice in a day was fortunate indeed.

On my last morning I tried again for the Sunda Thrush at dawn, but steady rain from 4am onwards put paid to my chances. I plan to return next year to try to photograph the bird, and to look for Gede’s other specialities that continue to elude me: Javan Scops-Owl, Dusky Woodcock and Javan Hawk-Eagle.

Having finally encountered one of Java’s star birds, I had to hang up my binoculars and set about another week’s work, which I had carefully arranged to end with a day’s business in Tokyo on a Friday...

NEW PICS IN THE GALLERY

Mon, 7 Nov 2011 16:26:02 +0000

Just a quick entry to advise that there are a couple of new pictures in the gallery. A fabulous shot of a Blue-winged Pitta that Martin Hale kindly sent to me- check out Martin’s photography at http://www.martinhalewildlifephoto.com/index.html/ if you can deal with a massive dose of envy!

I’ve also added one of my shots of Elegant Pitta, in this case a vagrant photographed at Tangkoko in extreme NE Sulawesi. It’s not the same shot that is included in the book of the pitta mission ‘The Jewel Hunter’ (available from me for Christmas, click the link above), but the book does include a ‘Treasure Chest’ of my best shots of all the pittas photographed during the mission. Plus sixty four more full colour pages of pictures. Treat yourself to a copy for Christmas. And one each for the members of your family. And don’t forget the dog.

USURPING ANTPITTAS PART 2

Thu, 1 Sep 2011 07:52:54 +0100

So the burning question was...how to follow a cracking Crescent-faced Antpitta? The answer, to me at least, was obvious. It was not to ‘scope a Masked Saltator in the massive trees surrounding the Rio Blanco lodge, although the saltator is a rare bird anywhere, and did in fact make an appearance on our first evening near the lodge. Neither was it to find a Pale-edged Flycatcher, although that particular Myiarchus also turned up on our first evening up on the ridge. No, the only way to follow a massively sought-after antpitta is to find another massively sought-after antpitta. Or preferably more than one...

The staff at Rio Blanco have been hard at work in recent times setting up antpitta feeders around the reserve. The lowest (altitudinally speaking) feeder is only a few hundred metres above the lodge, and since it’s the feeder that has been established for the longest time it regularly hosts visiting AP’s. On the morning we crept into the cleared area of forest and sat silently in the viewing area we had no idea whether the antpittas would put in an appearance or not, but we didn’t have to wait long to find out. First to arrive was a Chestnut-crowned AP, a relatively widespread and not uncommon species, but a colourful one, and like so many of the family, not an easy bird to see well. At the feeder however, after an initial period of furtive calling and skulking the bird hopped out into the open to grab a worm or two before bouncing back into the forest.

Chestnut-crowned Antpitta Grallaria ruficapilla

The Chestnut-crowned’s second foray was rudely interrupted...by a Chestnut-capped Antpitta! The latter is such a bruiser that it tends to scatter any other species in the neighbourhood as it arrives...

Chestnut-naped Antpitta Grallaria nuchalis

Diverting though these two birds were, they were not the main reason for our visit to Rio Blanco. We knew that another antpitta, one that had traditionally been almost impossible to locate due to its decidedly antisocial habits, visited the same feeder. And once the Chestnut-naped had stomped off with a beakful of worms, this altogether more diminutive species, the Brown-banded Antpitta, crept in so quietly that at first it almost sneaked under our radar altogether.

Brown-banded Antpitta Grallaria milleri

After a few precious moments watching this rare creature we crept back out to the main track and stood in the sunshine congratulating ourselves on our good fortune. At which point the warden, with a glint in his eye, casually mentioned that they had recently managed to persuade another, equally shy species to come to another feeder higher up in the forest. The birds had only recently started to come in, but he felt it was worth a vigil. Would we like to try for Bicoloured Antpitta?

Happily our host was nimble enough not to get mown down in the rush that constituted our response, and we climbed the hill and crossed the ridge before sitting down at the edge of a higher trail. After a few minutes during which our anticipation reached fevered heights, we heard a simple, upslurred whistle ripple through the forest in front of us... ‘wheeeeeip....wheeeeeip... wheeeeeip.’ Another couple of minutes of tense scanning ensued, until, as if by magic, the antpitta materialised right in front of us. It stayed just long enough to allow me to snatch a photograph, before grabbing a couple of worms and departing with unseemly haste.

Bicoloured Antpitta Grallaria rufocinerea

Quite a morning. Four species of antpitta seen, including two that were all but impossible until a year or two ago.

Our last attempt to find one of Colombia’s most elusive species, a gorgeous tennis ball of a bird, the Hooded Antpitta, was to end in failure. We had known at the outset that our chances of success were very slim, not least because the species’ song remains unknown. Now that the bird is firmly on the radar and people are looking for it in earnest it is surely only a matter of time until someone manages to record and describe its vocalisations, but until then the bird remains extremely difficult to find. Pablo F. mentioned that he had seen Hooded Antpittas on a couple of occasions at Otun-Quimbaya in the Central Andes, and we spent a couple of days at the site. We spent many hours trawling, by playing the songs of the other Grallaricula species in an attempt to trigger a response, but it was not to be. We had, it seemed, exhausted our luck, but with an amazing haul of thirteen antpittas seen we really couldn’t complain. And besides, whilst searching for the Hooded AP we managed great if brief views of the retiring Moustached Antpitta, which arrived at speed in the very bush in which we were hiding. Sadly it departed as quickly as it had appeared giving no chance of even a record shot, but whilst traipsing through a promising area of forest I did manage to bump into another of Otun’s star birds, a Chestnut Wood-Quail, which dithered for just long enough before making good its escape to allow a single photo.

So there you have it: just a few of our ground-dweller highlights from a quick tour of the Colombian Andes. And that’s all before I mention the ten species of (mostly Scytalopus) tapaculos we encountered...Here’s a not-100%-sharp-but-hey-you-only-get-a-split-second-with-Scytalopus picture* of the critically endangered Paramillo Tapaculo (which was only promoted to full species status in 2010) taken at Urrao:

Paramillo Tapaculo Scytalopus canus

We saw more than five hundred other species during our stay in Colombia, which needless to say I highly recommend as a birding destination. It may be totally lacking in true pittas, but this is amply compensated by its many other charms. Book yourself a trip today by contacting Pablo F at www.multicolorbirdingcolombia.com

And if you should succeed in finding the mythical Hooded Antpitta or manage to obtain a recording of any vocalisations please e-mail me at info@pittasworld.com...

* As far as I can ascertain this is only the second shot ever obtained of Paramillo Tapaculo in the field- and IMHO it’s better than the other one!