Birding Vietnam (part II)

The other day I wrote about how difficult it can be to spot birds here in Vietnam. Today we were in what our leader, Susan, said would be the most difficult place we will encounter: Tam Ðảo, in the mountains north of Hanoi. The reasons we're here are three: the chestnut bulbul (Hemixos castanonotus), the short-tailed parrotbill (Paradoxornis davidianus), and the grey laughingthrush (Garrulax maesi). None of these birds are endangered, so they're not "special" in the sense of being rare. But they can be reclusive, and this is the only place we will have a chance to see them. So we were hopeful.

We spent the morning along a track in Tam Ðảo National Park, peering down into steep jungle or up into dense foliage, listening for calls and songs. It was a slow business. We saw some birds, but not many: they were skittish and shy.

Our first victory came with the chestnut bulbul, which even I got a very good look at. I say "even I" because, as a rank amateur, I am clumsy and slow when it comes to seeing the bird with my naked eye, then raising my binoculars to the right spot, and finally focusing. Usually by the time I've started to raise my binoculars, the bird has flitted. Even if I get to the focusing part, I often can't see the bird well enough to know what to focus on. It's a tad frustrating. But I shall keep practicing. In any case, I did feel a flush of pride at spotting that pretty bird. One down!

Later on, the whole group except Gill and me got a good look at a parrotbill. Darn it. Not that I'm working on a life list, so really, if I miss a bird, it's no big deal. But . . . this one was so coveted by my fellow birders, I wanted to see it too.

We saw some other good birds along the way, though, like

Black-chinned Yuhina (Yuhina negrimenta)

Blyth's Shrike-Babbler (Pteruthius aeralatus)

Golden Babbler (Stachyris chrysea)

Silver-eared Mesia (Leiothrix argentauris)

In the afternoon, we headed by foot out from our hotel and up the hill behind—up what could have amounted to 1,200 or more steps, but fortunately, only a few hundred steps in, Susan shouted, "There! It's the grey laughingthrush!" and started bounding up the stairs. As we dashed after her, we became aware of a merry giggling and chortling ahead of us: these birds certainly live up to their name. They seemed so full of mirth that I couldn't help but feel happy! Happy to be finding this bird, sure, but also just happy to be in on this adventure, and to have this fabulous sound as part of it. (You can hear sound clips of their laughter here.)

With that sighting (and hearing) I started to understand why these crazy birders travel hither and yon, far and wide, to find individual species, under sometimes trying conditions. There is something exhilarating about seeking them out, observing their habitat and behavior, and having a moment of communion with these fragile, beautiful creatures.

After that rush, most of us gathered down the stairs and chatted with Michael and Mary, who had stayed behind because Mary's knee wasn't up to the steps, waiting for the last few stragglers—who eventually appeared, saying they'd been observing some parrotbills. Gill and I exclaimed, "Wait, what? Parrotbills? Where?" Luke said he thought they'd flown, but we decided to give it a shot anyway. Susan came along with her bird sounds, and after a few minutes of playing them, lo and behold, who should appear but a couple of parrotbills! The trifecta was accomplished! And with darn good sightings in each case. I'm learning how to use my binocuars!

It was a good day of birding. Each day has been, but somehow today on the trail I was just feeling content, even if I wasn't seeing all the birds. But I saw a lot (including the coveted three), and they were beautiful. The landscape, too, was beautiful. Here are a few shots of that, plus a pretty flower for good measure. (As always—and this goes for the above photos too—click on the image to see it large on black.)

Tam Ðảo means the Three Sisters: this is why