Horsefield's Frogmouth - Batrachostomus javensis
In 2016 I took a trip to the Taman Negarra National Park in Peninsula Malaysia. Just me and a bag full of camera equipment for 5 days. I had been flirting with the idea of getting myself into the rain forest proper for several years - gifts of leech socks, shelves of books on Asian birds. At the end of the last financial year at work I just booked an economy flight to Kuala Lumpa and then threw some air miles at an upgrade. Escape. I was dreaming of hardship and machetes - but opted for a nice towel every evening and a spicy peanut sauce - Malaysia.
The travel was fairly straightfoward but long and tiring - 7 hours business class to Kuala Lumpa on an Emirates 777 from Dubai with a fine selection of food and wines ! After customs and being reunited with my ton of camera gear I made my way to the public taxi booking kiosks. The details of how to do this were all online but it was still still a leap of faith. I paid about $US 100 for a 5 hour taxi ride to the river ferry crossing at Taman Negarra - you buy the ticket from the kiosk and then just head out to the line. I selected a slightly better car than the base model. Who is going to take this trip I thought ? It was like rocking up at Gatwick at 10 and asking to be taken to Durham by a bloke who lived in Croydon. They have to take you apparently - my town was the last on the list - the end of the line and an afterthought. I was already feeling sorry for the guy. He is going to have to be one of life's givers !
The poor guy who drew the short straw for the trip told me that he had never been that far "up country" on a job. He had a tattered map out. On my phone a pin was stuck in a big blank area - white. He had to phone his wife to say that he could be quite late home. The conversation took some time - I guess his dinner was getting put in the microwave that night. I guess for him it was 5 hours there and then 5 hours back - more than a normal day's work and it was already 10 am. To get some efficiency from my 3 days off I'd decided to fly overnight straight from work. Today was get there and get orientated day.
We planned for a stop on the way for lunch about halfway and then on the edge of Kuala Lumpa on some sort of ring road we also made a further stop to stock up on water, drinks, biscuits and so on. The other option was to pay the hotel exorbitant amounts for a transfer shared with other people in a min van departing from some hotel in central Kuala Lumpa. I'd missed that anyway and also I am a touch averse to other travellers. This was the better way but a complete leap of faith. Having done a few odd trips now to the odd corners of places where the birds lurk I have started to realize that the best communication is a pocket full of dollars and a smile. It will get you to most places and most of these guys just want to earn an honest living. I did feel sorry for him though and I made it clear early on that the tip would be a good one. In contemplation of the rewards of heaven my guy then decided to give me a full 5 hour description of our route, Malaysian politics, food and culture. He was a bit of a star - a nice bloke like me - I had lucked out.
My taxi guy also turned out to have a real penchant for listening to cool music to keep his paying customers happy - he had built up a mighty collection of CD's to entertain his customers. His two western CD's consisted of Leo Sayers greatest hits (I kid you not - I still have the music burned on my brain) and a compilation of further 70's smash hits including Carly Simon and David Essex - just "Another Winter's Tale" you know (except it was 85 degrees Fahrenheit and the rain was starting) just one more love that failed. Oh David please stop. Carly had been to Paradise but she'd never been to me. Shed had lunch with sultans and all sorts. God knows where we were headed. Would Carly Simon be there ? Each CD lasted about 40 minutes so I guess we went through Leo 3 times and the other one a good 4 times - I did try the local music but I wasn't owning it. I begged him to put "I Won't Let the Show Go On" for a fourth time. That natty little bit at the end is fun. I remember Leo from the age of about 5 on Top of the Pops - number one for my whole childhood it seemed like. It was a very long long way, slow like my Leo childhood but made more wistful and romantic by his rendition of "Babe I'm Leaving" - yes indeed leaving my senses somewhere along that road. My Heart was in your hands - I checked my watch at one point to note that I had been traveling for 1 hour and 7 minutes. I promised myself not to look again until after our lunch stop. We started on the motorways and then like a journey into the circulatory system of your body we set off down smaller and smaller ways until finally we were on a single lane of pock-marked rutted capillary road flanked on each side by oil palm (unfortunately) and a few pockets of hopeful trees. On occasion tarmac gave way altogether. Then a disaster. Mordor in Malaysia (and that's a straight theft from the De Caprio film I know).
We came into a clear fell - an area several kilometers wide which was just heartbreaking. Like a Surrey heathland but scattered with bulldozers, stumps of trees, hardly a man in sight. That red and white tape stuff fluttering in the wind. Just the wreckage of our Tesco's shop. Yes our Tesco shop. Pristine rainforest torn down to make way for the crap that lubricates our cakes and biscuits. Palm oil. Rows and rows of the trees on occasion on the way - a sterile monoculture replacing pristine rain forest. I will set aside some time for a rant against oil palm in a future post. Palm oil is now banned from out house. Lays crisps are gone. No Doritos for the boys.
And then rising up from this bleak common and blocking the blue sky and making its own weather - there she was. Not Carly, but a sheer wall of huge 40-50 m tall trees. Just the other side of a slow lazy, muddy river edged with shanty town - the deadly Eden - the Jungle. Leo sounded apprehensive and did his natty little dooby doo bit again - eyes agog in clown paint. The border town with the wilderness was all a hum of petrol driven generators, stray dogs and children playing on motorbikes. One child pulled a wheely and then drove into a ditch ! We drove on and I wondered whether we should have stopped. Not poor or rich this place - a town of hawkers - a town built around the gateway to the national park - park ? That's a not park ! That's not man made at all - its just not been unmade. There are elephants and tigers and clouded leopards in there. Great big striped tapirs rooting out roots with enlarged tusker teeth ! That's God's own menagerie in there. A great mess of ants, sweat, mahogany and birds - millions of them, bright, dull, brown, shiny, metallic, loud, skulking squawking and rare - loads of really rare birds. Why - well I'd just driven through it - the nothing. This is now the last parcel of pristine rain forest in peninsula Malaysia. About the size of, say, Essex - a last block of trees - a wild zoo hanging on by its fingernails. The edge burning and taped off by men in hard hats. It needs visiting often but it isn't as flashy as Borneo or Saba. So its not on the beaten track unless you want to find it.
Taman Negarra is accessed via this small riverside shanty town. On the river there a number of floating restaurants and then it is a short ferry trip across to the gateway to the National Park - Loth Lorien itself and also a handy "luxury" jungle lodge that I had booked myself into for the princely sum of about $US 100 a night. The Mutiara - it was that or some cheap hotels and hostels and a trip back across the river every night. My back packing days are well and truly behind me now. Cash gets thrown at any issue. I opted for the highest end I could. As far away from the tattooed students with man buns as I could. Be gone, humanities students and sports scientists - large old lawyer with a few grand of camera kit coming through. I had been quoted a fairly chunky sum from Imagine Asia to put together a simple itinerary to Taman so I was quite proud of myself for wending my own way and ending up very comfortably situated in my own Swiss hut in the rainforest. I think I pieced together the trip for a bit over £1,000 which I am quite pleased with - not that the money is the issue. For me it's comfort and not getting ill or lost - and avoiding faux Maori tattoos and bragging about how to live on two dollars a day. That's not the point, Tarquin - spend as much as you can - buy buy buy - thats the way to keep the blinking rain forest standing up. It has to be worth more than the ingredients for a digestive. You are not helping by living on 2 dollars a day - you spend more in term time on a sandwich.
I was now my own little Stanley. Air conditioned and serenaded by easy listening music, but adventuresome nonetheless.
Above - the end of civilisation on the banks of the river
I think it was a dollar to cross on the little boats. I had a real job getting my heavy kit down to the water's edge and then onto the small ferry boat. Almost didn't happen, but I found reserves of strength as I thought about a Tiger beer and a green curry. Wheres a batman when you need one ? Two camera bodies, all my lenses, a flash (more anon), monopod, mini tripod, chargers, bins, lightweight spotting scope, books, laptops and half of boots the chemists ... It was an expeditionary type haul of kit ! They might not have Molton Brown ! Next time I do need a sherpa. I tottered onto that boat and I swear it listed like the Bismarck in Montevideo harbor. The captain looked horrified and made me sit opposite my bag - the boat settled back down into the tea stained water. And off we pottered. At the other side there was a thing like a mine cart - they had an electric winch to get my bag up the stairs to the little resort set on the bluff of the river bank.
I wasn't exactly slumming it ! I have to admit - Somebody realized I was coming and built a resort for me.
Welcomed with a cold towel and a juicy drink and broad smiles I was home. And this was my little air conditioned cabin - complete with a terrace with river views, resident wild boar and macaques and a separate sitting room and bedroom. Hardship posting again Neil. I had to work while I was away for a couple of hours a day so I needed something a bit more solid than a hostel etc. Plus - I don't do hostels full of people from the University of Weston Super-Mare. So it was pretty much a full days travel to get myself installed on the edge of pristine rain forest with half a ton of camera equipment and my humour and health were intact.
I did start to feel a little odd - I always go birding and then wonder what an earth I am doing. There is no hiding from it when you get there - I have opted to travel on my own to a rain forest with the intention of getting some pictures of birds. I will be honest - I always wonder what the hell I am doing. Wouldn't it be better to fly to say New York and go for lunch or wing it over to Paris to wander around a gallery. I do that with the family anyway. So this is me apparently - finding myself - a swiss hut in a rainforest with a daily turn down service. To my horror I realized that Tarquin and Bunty had to walk past my front porch to get to the edge of one of the forest trails every day. Off they would trot and back they would come after about 25 minutes - yeah it's a bit hot and muddy in there isn't it, and your man bun and girlfriend are both having bad hair days now. That tie dye has sweat patches on it and bright yellow sports wear mate is not good for seeing anything you Charlie. You need to look like a wise colonel in 'Nam like me. Blend in like a silky ranger. They do insist on going for their walk at 11.30 am these types as well ! That's lunch and siesta time for both me and the rain forest ! All is very quiet. I digress - it just beggars belief that all these idiots had travelled to see the rain forest but could not get out of bed at 6 am when the action is. They seriously went to a board walk thing and did a 1 km loop for 10 minutes at lunchtime - saw nothing and then went to look at the T-shirts in the gift shop but wouldn't buy one because why would you want to give money to the national parks service of Malaysia - its a rip off. Oh well - whole place to myself every morning then while they are sleeping off their night of Cat Stevens, arak and rice and vegetables.
So it's just me - and when the door shuts the equipment bursts out all over the room and I get the funny sense that I really am some sort of intrepid explorer. People ask me - really - what you go on your own ? Yes and I am my own worse company - terrible company - I get bored very easily and homesick in a day and I hate not being busy unless I have a beer in my hand and someone to talk to - In short I find it hard to relax and wonder why I am there and not at work or in Spinneys buying the ingredients for a cheesecake. I force myself to bird the first day or two - by day two I am tuned in and you start to see stuff. Marvel at things again while Tarquin stomps past going for a land speed record. Honestly I watched a couple of back packers go striding past me one day while I was watching a land monitor digging out a meal. Its only a 1.5 m lizard after all. I can't stand people who don't see anything - they don't even bother looking. They don't stop still or listen - its hard work seeing stuff. You have to look properly. I have no idea why some of the people were there - "Trekking" in the rain forest. They would only stop to take a picture next to the biggest tree buttress 10 m from the park sign. Round the board walk loop at lunchtime and back to the hostel. Morons.
Birding is not exactly relaxing - it's more of a struggle. The relaxing bit is sifting through the photos at the end of a long day or making a ritual of a meal on your own with a tick list. I never quite know who I am when I am away on my own birding - it happens only a couple of times a year. It is like meeting up with an old but very very geeky awkward friend called Kevin. I feel a bit silly in all honesty ! I am Kevin. Do grown men do this ? Well they should I think and I should more often. All that finding yourself nonsense you ask ? Its more forgetting yourself and mostly just being somewhere ridiculously different. Then after the realization that you are on the edge of some wilderness potentially teeming with birds comes the panic - what if I can't find them ! I have to promise myself very clearly that I am there for quality photographs - 30 would not be a failure - that the Task is not one that can ever be won and that I can always come back - perhaps with one of the boys or Jane another time.
Was it worth it ? Yes. Even if I had seen just one this one bird it was worth it - and it wasn't in the forest at all.
My first bird courtesy of a tip touting member of the hotel staff was this wonderful Blyth's Frogmouth (SSP affinus). I was led to it and some graceful Malaysian mid-management hands gestured to the tree tops. Look - "Fwargmowff" - a what ? "Fwargggmowff". It takes me a while to find the thing - Oh my f*cking god a Frogmouth - I had joked I might see one - this guy has ordered me one and served her up as a little spicy hors d'oeuvres for midday. Just in time for lunch - yummy.
The bird was sitting on a small nest glued to a branch overhanging the steps up from the river ferry and as I learn later was looking after a chick. Smack bang at the entrance to the hotel without a care in the world. Snoozing in the humidity like me after a large plate of spicy food and a cold beer. Nasi Frogmouth.
This is not a family of birds I know at all. This is my first Frogmouth. A real Asian birder's bird. Somehow a cross between a kingfisher and an owl ? They look animatronic. A ridiculous creation - more muppet than bird. They inhabit the night - indeed have a wide mouth like a frog and crunch up anything that crawls or wriggles. They are the most bizarre looking birds I have ever seen. Jeepers they must frighten you if they get stuck in your torch beam.
I spent a fair few hours over the course of a couple of days wrestling for the best shots I could. There were plenty of non-birders staying in the hotel who strained to try and see what I was looking at. You could look away for a few seconds and then have difficulty yourself finding the bird again. But it was worth it. There is nothing like a proud parent - of a very ugly chick ! Is the bird ugly ? Its no Demoiselle Crane is it ! I should have charged for views through my lens in the end. Birders would ask politely for a look and dance jigs. Look there's a chick I would say. Broad smiles - birders are cool. Kevin is cool. Every day I would set up and just watch for an hour.
So I was all set up for a special few days. It doesn't get much better than this ? A cracking bird and the rain forest waiting. I was a little apprehensive so it was clear that I needed to unpack some more and find the restaurant and study the menu properly - no point in dashing off into the jungle and getting all steamed up. Slowly slowly catchee monkey. It can all wait. Lunch is important when you are exploring the rain forest. Plus I hadn't hooked up with my guide yet. He would turn out to be as special as the place itself. You can't fake loving birds - this guy adored his birds and the forest. I had him booked for 2 days with a little meet up that first evening to discuss a plan of attack over a beer. Time to get my hat and leech socks out.
Horsefield's Frogmouth, Batrachostomus javenis
Mutiara Resort, Taman Negarra National Park, Malaysia
June 6 2017
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