Philippines (Zamboanga and Sulu) and Indonesia (Alor, Rote, Flores, Lombok and Bali)

More than most trips, I felt tremendous trepidation and anxiety before departing. My youngest son experiences autism and I feel a lot of guilt before traveling because my wife, who is already over worked, has even more responsibility taking on all of our son's care needs when I am gone. I worry too, that if I was to get into an accident and don't come home, that my wife would carry this great responsibility of caring for our youngest son alone. Of course it's these very responsibilities that drive me to the jungle, where I walk in utter solitude with only the owls for a few days each year.

April 25th. I work most of the day before Tui runs me up to the MAX light rail. I arrive at the airport to find my flight's a little delayed. Everything works out, and I am able to get to my gate in San Francisco and catch the big night flight to Manila. 

April 26th It's a 14 hour flight. I eat some melatonin gummies for the first time. They don't help, there just isn't room to really sleep.

April 27th I arrive in Manila around dawn. There is a heatwave, and the airport's air conditioning churns out warm air that smells of duty free and pork baos. Immigration duties are handled on an app, and my glasses have broken during the flight. The one-armed glasses constantly slip off my sweaty nose. I have a pounding headache and to make matters worse my fucking debit card does not work in the four ATMs I try. I call the bank, and they have the travel alert on file, so there is no clear reason. Fuck, I have hardly any cash and the trip will be pretty messed up without a working Visa. I change some of my precious cash reserves and make my way to my gate. 

The mid morning Zamboanga flight is on Cebu Pacific. I caught the very same flight with my friend Shaun in 2010. Just like last time, there are pop quizzes and prizes and the flight attendants hawk nick knacks. 

In Zamboanga (the occasionally troubled provincial city in South-Western Mindanao) I meet Jay-Paul. He works for the department of natural resources (DENR) and can get me access to the city's wonderfully large watershed forest. However, it's only noon, so for now he runs me to Casa Maria, where I soon find myself in a small concrete room listening to the thrum of the A/C. Despite the heat wave, I can't face being cooped, and I set out and walk to street. It's noisy, and not that exciting outside, but it's still good to see Filipino people and just feel the place again. 

Jay Paul returns for me late in the afternoon, and the sun has already tempered. We drive a big, empty concrete road into the foothills above town. The light is beautiful, and it feels good to see the small farms with bananas trees, chickens and dogs. Little children play on the road, while scrappy teenage boys race their motor scooters ignored by the girls who walk in little flocks holding hands. The little car winds up over the range to a small community called La Paz. The name is aspirational and it hasn't always been peaceful here. Jay-Paul can only talk of terrorists, so it's hard to get the picture. I do remember my last guide telling me that many, many people were killed and buried in this forest. This area is mostly Muslim, and the people here have mostly tolerated living in this most catholic of countries. Occasionally their have been aspirations for independence, and spasms of rebellion. The armed forces of the Philippines sadly is an instrument to maintain the states boundaries, and its challenges are mostly domestic. It has a sad and bloody history of killing it's citizens and has spilled much blood in these bucolic hills. 

My target for tonight is the Mindanao boobook. It's not a rare bird, but it has remained elusive to me despite looking for it in PICOP in 2002, here in Zamboanga in 2010 and then again at Mount Apo and in the verdant tablelands near Mt Kitanglad. We wait by a small roadside clearing, surrounded by beautiful primary forest. As soon as the bats start hawking for insects, Jay-Paul plays the call. A minute later a small owl flies into a scrappy roadside tree and we spotlight it! A Mindanao boobook. It's a small, short-tailed Ninox. The bill is large, exposed and greenish yellow. The eyes large and vibrant yellow. The checks have fluffy whiskers. The head is warm brown, with a little white spotting. The chin is whitish and the breast is mostly brown, with a few white feathers, grading to white on the belly with brown streaks. The back and wing coverts are brown, with darker freckling. The flight feathers are brown, with obvious whitish spotting. The song is a lovely, soft, dove-like "wow wow". We eventually see two birds duetting on a  large exposed bough and hear a third bird below us.   

My other targets are birds I have seen before but wanted another view. Everett's scops owl, is a bird that I have heard, but seen in flight only at Rajah Sikatuna National Park in Bohol. Chocolate boobook, is a bird that I saw in Sablayan Penal Colony in Mindoro. I was happy with the daytime sighting of a silent bird, only to later have Shaun ask me if it could have been a Northern Boobook. I had been uneasy about the identification ever since, and had spent a night hiking Subic Bay in search of a Chocolate boobook.

We decided to start with Everett's scops. The physical environment was challenging, behind the clearing is rocky gully, then a very steep up slope with tall forest. Jay-Paul is able to get a pair of Everett's scops to respond, and slowly they approach, and we are eventually able to get sustained looks of one perched above us. It's a larger scops owl, with huge ears, which are paler on the front, forming a big V-shaped crown atop of the owl's face. The eyes are orange-brown. The collar (under the chin) is pale. The breast is tawny-buff, with dark, cross hatched streaks. The upper parts are warm brown, extensively spotted with darker brown. The song is a series of about three squawks that end in a little growl. Occasionally they make a single, explosive squawk. 

Jay Paul hadn't previously seen Chocolate boobook at La Paz, but we decide to try. We drive to a col, and play the song. Immediately a giant scops owl responds with a powerful screech. We then hear a distant chocolate boobook, causing us to briskly walking back to the original site. There we spotlight the owl, singing from an exposed perch. The eye-shine is red but the eyes are actually golden yellow. The head is grayish, and back is chocolate brown. the under parts are white, extensively streaked with chocolate brown. The feet are powerful and yellow. It's a much larger bird than Mindanao boobook, and much long-tailed. It sings a series of 4-7 soft "hoop" notes. 

I am thrilled, we have found are targets before the 8pm curfew (for security). We return for the giant scops owl site, but don't hear it again. A little further down the road, we try again and get a single response, but again the owl remains elusive. (I have seen this bird well near Mt Kitanglad).  

I can't say asleep on the drive back to Casa Maria, where Jay-Paul drops me off.

April 28th. I wake at 4am, and my mind stubbornly refuses to let me sleep in. Today I travel to Tawi-Tawi for Sulu boobook. The journey there is easy enough. When I arrive, I ask about the forest to the northwest, but am told it's safer to stay closer to town. A little disappointed I settle on Mt Bud Bongao. This is a charismatic peak that rises above the town of Bongao. Bongao is the last town in the Philippines and the first to have a mosque. There are small patches of forest between the dramatic limestone cliffs. I am concerned that there is insufficient forest here to support the owls, or that I will hear them, but will be unable to get close enough to see them due to the extensive rock faces. In the meantime, I have to contend with 1100' of steep steps with my back pack. The site is popular with locals, and everyone say's "hello" and takes selfies with me. (This place is little visited by foreigners). There are some well fed macaques, who follow me up the slope. Tiny baby macaques cling to their moms, while the dads scratch their nuts and harass me for food. I stash my bag near the summit, and then walk out to the most beautiful grassy view point. Sabah is just 40 km away! 

View of Bongao from Bud Bongao

I lay low while the other hikers descend back into town. The sun sets quickly.

 

Soon darkness comes

 

I get out my gear, and start playing the song of the Sulu boobook. Almost immediately I hear a response and glimpse an owl fly into a thicket. A magpie robin scolds. I play the song again, and the owl perches above me, and I can spotlight it! Like the Mindanao boobook, it's a small, short-tailed owl, with bright yellow eyes. It's similar, but has an obvious white throat, that spreads to a half collar. The overall plumage seems more evenly warm brown, and less mottled. Un-fucking-believable! That was easy. Happy I walk down the long concrete trail, occasionally stepping with a loud crunch on unfortunate giant millipedes. It's a short ride into town. There I enjoy a burger and talking with a local family about their lives here.

 

April 29th I enjoy a morning walk to the airport. A lot of people call out "hey Joe", a left over from the G.I. Joes, and America's sad experiment with colonialism. I get an offer for a free ride, but the light is beautiful, and it's just too good to be out to miss the walk. I fly out to Manila, and on to there to Jakarta, arriving at midnight.

April 30th From Jakarta I catch a 2am flight to Kupang in Timor, arriving there at first light. I have only slept a couple of hours, so at Kupang airport I find good coffee and orange juice to revive my weary brain. I have a couple of hours to wait, then catch a Wings flight on a turboprop to Alor. Descending over Alor, I see small mountains blanketed in green velvet forest. I walk out of the terminal, and catch the world's slowest mini bus into town. I could have walked faster! The driver has clearly invested more in the sound system than the motor. In town, I stop for lunch, pork satay. This area is mostly Christian, so I can indulge in fine pork meats. I then catch a much faster, quieter mini bus that takes me east along the coast road. We drive past a roadside man, who is smoking and having his morning coffee. The ticket guy on the minibus, hops off the still moving bus, grabs the man's coffee, takes a big gulp, then runs back onto the bus. Everyone laughs. It's such a good joke, and one that in my own country wouldn't fly with it's fuck you buddy masculine hostility. I get off where a small road bisects the island. I buy a few bottles of water at a small store, then hike inland along a narrow broken asphalt road. It's still midday, so I have plenty of time to kill. I pass a small river, and take shade at the creek-side by a stand of tall bamboo. I laze around and sleep a little on a gravel bar, waiting for the sun to ease it's way into the the evening. 

Around five, I get going and follow the small road into the hills. I eventually find a patch of forest, with a lovely flat area where I can camp. I hide my bag behind a log and prepare my owling gear. After the luck I had in the Philippines I am feeling confident. At sunset, I get out my gear and start playing the song of the Alor boobook. I follow the small road steeply up hill to the north. There is a lot of motorcycle traffic, and I have do respond to a lot of questions asking "mister what are you doing" and "mister, do you need a ride?"After a couple of hours I reach a col, and I have still not heard an Alor boobook. Foolishly I have only brought a half liter of water. I see a small village store next to a big church. The store is close, but I ask around. The family who runs the store is sitting down for dinner. They ask me in and offer me a plate. I accept, and wolf down a plate of rice, salted fish and veggies, plus several cups of warm water. I thank them multiple times and pay them something, then hit the road again. At my next stop I hear two Alor boobooks. They are calling from below me, on a steep forested slope. I follow them down, but they seem to move away and fall silent. With growing concern I return to the road, and follow it further into the interior of the island, eventually descending to an agricultural heartland. There is little forest by the roadside. I hear about ten boobooks, but they are usually far away, across a valley, or they fall silent after playback. I find an Australian Barn owl, a shockingly small, delicate barn owl, pearly white beneath and mostly dove gray above. This is a new owl for me and a good consolation. 

Eventually around midnight, I decide to return, as the habitat has gotten worse, and I decide my best chance is to try the first pair again. It's a hot, weary hike back, and even though I hear several Alor boobooks, I am never able to get them to solicit a sustained response. At one in the morning I reach my bag, and sadly put up my tent. Despite a strong breeze, and bright, bright moon, I sleep soundly. 

 

May 1st. I wake to my alarm at 430am, pack the tent quickly, and head down the road, playing the call of Alor boobook. Alas it's not to be, and around daybreak I reach the coast road and stop trying for the owl. 

Soon a guy on a motor bike offers me a ride, and we are flying along the coast road. It's a beautiful ride, we twist and roll our way through the curves next to a blue Pacific gently breaking to our right. At the airport I replenish with coffee and noodles. The Wings flight comes in late. When descending into Kupang, we get a couple of meters from the runway, then with a roar, we lift off and fly around for a vast loop that takes another 15 minutes. I am worried that something is wrong with the little plane, but on the next go it lands without issue.

 

From the airport I catch a taxi with a shattered windshield to the ferry terminal. It's hot and breezy and I have several hours to wait. I spend my time catching up on food and drinks, and chatting with local people. Late in the afternoon a slow ferry to Rote arrives. It's a sound looking ship, and as soon as I find a seat, I fall fast asleep. 

The ship pulls into Rote a couple of hours after dark. Thanks to a navigation app, I discover we have landed very near the owling site, rather than the normal terminal at Baa, far to the south. A local guy offers me a ride to the main road above the harbor. There I say my thanks, and head off on an asphalt road through small farms towards the heart of the island. After a couple of kilometers of walking I have accumulated a small entourage of local people on motor bikes. They ask me the usual questions about what I am doing and if I need help. I let them know, and ask them if they can leave me in peace, something they resolutely ignore. In desperation (because they are too noisy to allow for owling), I slip down a side trail, hoping they will give up. After exploring the side trail, I return to the road, and they resume following me. I try and hide behind a tree, but to my embarrassment they find me there, which just elicits more questions, "sir, what are you doing there".  At the edge of the owling area I get about 50 meters ahead of the group, and then lay down in a thicket. I hear them calling for me as they ride slowly past. 

Triumphant I emerge from the thicket and start playback for Rote boobook. Of course twenty minutes late I hear the motorbikes return, and have to slip back into the scrub. They are still calling out for me as they go past. After they disappear, I follow the road through some open monsoon forest to a dry creek-bed. The road is washed away here, and beyond the wash out I relax, knowing I am alone. I stash my backpack in pile of sharp limestone. My head-torch catches the eye shine of a group of cows chewing cud. Still, no response from the boobook. The forest eventually opens up, and here I hear a response. I follow the owl through scrub, and spotlight it perched exposed in a small snag. With its wings held open, the whole bird looks like a checkerboard of heavily barred flight and tail feathers. It's a small owl, with a short tail. It has bright yellow eyes, a pale gray bill and gray cheeks. The forehead is extensively spotted white. The chest white, heavily mottled warm brown at the neck, becoming more sparingly mottled towards the vent. The rather weak legs are yellowish. The song is a long series of slightly paired, clucking grunts. After last night's fiasco, it's a massive fucking relief to see this owl.

Happy I retrieve my bag and walk back to the village. There I find some guys playing cards. A couple have stone weights, tied by strings to their ears. They explain, that's what happens when you loose the game. We talk, mostly with Google translate. I ask for a ride to Papela, a fishing village, where I can hopefully charter a boat back to Kupang. (Tomorrow's ferry will arrive too late in Kupang for me to catch my flight). After much consultation a crowd builds to about three dozen folk. Many, many photographs are taken. Eventually an English speaking guy, Tubel, arrives to take me to Papela.

                                        Tubel and I making arrangements to travel to Papela

 

After a brief downpour, we set out around midnight. It's a beautiful ride along wet country roads under a rising half moon. Mist rises from the wet asphalt, and the air is heavy with the smell of manure and eucalyptus. After 45 minutes we make it to a rather large police station. Three policemen greet us. We talk for a while. We all take photos and then they offer to let me use the village boat at a good price. I am given a corner on the tile floor to sleep. It's now one am, and I am tired, so I sleep easy.

 

May 2nd. I wake at 5am, and Tubel is already up. We ride down to the harbor. A long slender wooden craft is prepared. The police arrive soon after, and they let me know they have arranged a driver to pick me up the fishing village on the Timor side. I greet the deckhand, he tells me to be ready for big waves. I had been warned by a surflodge on Rote not to attempt this crossing in a local boat. I had also been told that these boats do it all the time. It's breezy at the harbor, but sheltered by a mosaic of limestone islands and the waters are calm. 

                                                                Tubel and I at the harbor

We say goodbye, and I set off with the captain and deckhand out from the harbor. 

                                                                        The crew
 

After crossing a bay, we enter a myriad of channels between a maze of islands. It's beautiful.

                                                    View at the start of the boat ride

After about an hour, we emerge into the open water. (There is about 15km, between Rote and Timor). The deckhand gives me plastic bags for my backpack and phone, then swaddles me in a giant tarp. Meanwhile the captain puts on a motorcycle helmet to protect from the waves. The helmeted captain, awash with spray, pilots the boat up and over each peak and trough. We climb tall waves, then plunge dramatically to the left as the waves pass and we descend into the abyss of a deep gray trough. And repeat. Water washes over us, and despite the tarp I am soaked. I feel dread. Dread that we will turn around and I will miss my flight, or worse or that we will sink in this merciless gray mess of water. The boat slows, and fights it's way across the straight, the loud smokey motor put puting stubbornly forward. I keep watching Timor, searching the distant land for a sign that we are getting closer. There are no other boats in the channel and it feels lonely out here. After another hour it's clear we are most of the way across, and eventually we catch the waters on the leeward side of Timor. With great relief the boat slows, the prow slides into the soft coral sand. I thank the deckhand and captain. Sure enough, a driver meets me. He doesn't speak English, and we drive in silence to the airport. 

I catch a flight to Denpasar, Bali, where I only have an hour to check in and board my next flight, back East again to Labuan Bajo, Flores. When I get to the check-in, I find Citilink has cancelled the flight. Fucking Kiwi.com, the online travel agent that hadn't fucking texted me to let me know. It's too late to catch another flight to Labuan Bajo, so I book one for midday tomorrow. 

I decide to make the most of my 20 hours in Bali, and head out the terminal. I catch a cheep Ojek, up to Bedugul in the mountains. The ride is fast, and we spend most of the journey occupying the white line in the middle of the road passing other vehicles. At Bedugul, I get dropped of at Bali Botanical Gardens. This is a well known birding site. There is one report of Oriental Bay Owl, a widespread bird I have never seen. Alas the guard tells me the gardens have closed at 4pm! Not to be thwarted I check into a nearby hotel, then hike around to the side of the gardens though onion fields and barking dogs. I sneak through a side gate after dark and begin my quest for the bay owl. I end up hearing barred eagle owl, but no bay owls. After a couple of hours I head back to the hotel. I am starving, so I eat one meal at a warung of tempeh with sambal, and then try the next stall for chicken feet and noodle soup.

I decide to call it a night, and head out into the park before dawn.

May 3rd. I wake at 330am, and head out through the unguarded main gate. I find a big porcupine, and hear the barred eagle owl again. Still no bay owls. (This is a very rare bird in Bali). Just before dawn a security truck approaches. I bolt and hide in the trees. They spotlight me, and sheepishly I wander over to them. They are cool, but they "fine" me a little money. Then they sneak me out of the park, away from the other guards at the main gate, no doubt, to avoid having to split the proceeds of the "fine" with their colleagues.

I decide to call it quits, and pack up. I hike down to the lake, where I meet a lady driver, called Hani, who offers to run me back to the airport for a reasonable price. I make my flight to Labuan Bajo on Flores without any problems. There I catch an Ojek to a motor rental place. I pick up a Honda Scooby for $6. It's a daunting 3 1/2 hour ride to Ruteng, a mountain town, with Flores Scops owls nearby. The road is tortured and twisting, and the small wheeled bike handles badly on the potholed road. Still I ride the bike hard, determined to get to Ruteng before nightfall. 

Tired and dusty I pull into Ruteng a little after 5pm. I check into a surprisingly fancy hotel, then head on out to a gated track that leads several kilometers up into the mountains to service a radio tower. I am following Google maps up the track in the final gasps of daylight. I stop to piss. Fortunately I'd abandoned my helmet at the hotel, and I immediately hear a Flores scops owl when pissing! This is a bird that have been thinking about for almost thirty years, and I am thrilled to hear it. I start playback. I soon glimpse the owl as it flies by, but am unable to secure a view with the flashlight.

I head up the narrow track on foot. I soon elicit a response from a pair of owls. We play cat and mouse in the dense montane forest. I creep through the bamboo and vines searching the underside of the canopy for these two tiny owls. At times, they sound so close, that I can't believe that I am unable to see them. After 30 minutes they fall silent, so I press on up the mountain. I hear a couple of other distant birds, before passing a track-side pair. I set off into the dense forest under low boughs and over rattan vines. Soon enough I spotlight this elusive denizen of the mountain forests. It's a very small rufous scops. The eyes and bill are yellow, the cheeks whiskered. The upper breast is rich rufous and the belly is rufous, barred with soft gray. I am so happy, everything is going to be OK for my trip. It's a magic fucking thing, seeing these tiny wispy forest owls in their mossy homes across the ocean.

 

I walk quickly back to the bike, then ride the narrow path. It's a joy to have no helmet and feel the forest plants brush my face. I find a noodle house, order soup, and eat it with so much sambal that I sweat and drip in shame. 

 

May 4th. I wake at 330am, and set off in search of Moluccan scops. I have seen this bird in Halmahera, and suspect one day the birds in Nusa Tenggara will be split. It takes me four attempts to get to a site for the owls, thanks to Google fucking up the route. Out in Flores it doesn't distinguish between tracks and roads, nor does it seem to pick up on which roads are gated. Eventually I get there. I walk down a muddy forested lane, though cow shite patties to some paddies. I hear a distant Moluccan scops, but it stops calling before I get close. I also hear a pair of Wallace's scops, I have seen this bird a few kilometers from here in 2003. Just as the sky begins to turn pale blue, I hear another Moluccan scops. I hustle across some rough pastures, and there it is, completely out in the open. Soon it's joined by a mate. They look like classic scops owls, medium sized, with yellow eyes, a dark bill, bold ears, a brownish wash on the chest, streaked dark brown (with cross hatches). Happy, I ride back to the hotel and catch a couple of hours sleep. 

 

After a delicious breakfast I hit the road. It's a challenging ride back to Labuan Bajo. The scooter rental company doesn't ask me about the 300km I put on the scooter in a day. A guy from the shop runs me to the airport. He cuts a shocking image, heavily tattooed, and with a neck scar from ear to ear, that's so thick that it's left his head lopsided. Despite his fearsome appearance he rides like a grandma. 

I catch a flight to Surabaya, then another, back East to Lombok, arriving after nightfall. A guy selling SIM cards at the airport arranges a ride for me to my hotel (the Country House). We arrive at 9pm. The nightwatchman man doesn't speak English, so we talk by Google translate. I ask for the owner, who comes down. He tells me that the Rinjani scops owls are usually in the hotel grounds. The nightwatchman and I walk around the garden, and soon I spotlight one in a small tree. It looks like a Moluccan scops, but with even bigger ears. The call however is very different, a much higher pitched "bruup" compared with the Moluccan's low croak.  Very nice. I am happy. 

While enjoying the owls, the nightwatchman's brother, Dennis arrives. Dennis works as a ranger and guide. I can tell he is a little disappointed that I don't need his services for the owls. Over a beer we get talking about snakes, and soon we agree to go out herping. We follow the creek into Kerandangan National Park. Dennis finds four vipers.

I think these are two color phases of white-lipped green pit viper. This is a rarely deadly, but they bite people a lot (both the hotel owner and the manager have been bitten by them). Despite this, Dennis is fearless about getting a few inches from the snakes with a phone to take pictures. A little after midnight I say goodbye to Dennis and get some sleep.

May 5th. After a good breakfast I catch a cab back to the airport. I WhatsApp Hani (the driver who helped me last time I was in Bali), and she agrees to drive me for the day. I meet Hani just outside the terminal, and we drive back up to Bedugul. It's really rare for me to hang out with women on my owling trips as almost all the guiding/ranger/driving jobs are occupied by men. We arrive at Bali Botanical Gardens early in the afternoon. We arrange to meet up by the entrance at dusk, and I set off through the gardens. The place is full of local families picnicking on the grass. It's noisy, and not exactly prime owling conditions, but still it's nice to see everyone. I find some quieter corners of the park and use playback to try and solicit Javan Owlet. This is an owl I had seen all too briefly at Gunung Gede in Java a few years ago. After three hours I finally get a response, and am able to get good views of this great little owl beneath the canopy. 

At dusk Hani drives me over to the next valley to the West. There is a wonderful gated road that I walk down in solitude. I am hoping (not realistically, as its very rare) to find a Oriental Bay owl here. Alas I don't, but I do hear a Sunda Scops and Barred Eagle owl. I return to the car and we head back into town for some Padang food. Hani then runs me back to Denpasar airport. At the terminal I am appalled to find that Kiwi.com has sold me an illegal ticket, and I am forced to buy another. Despite the stress of that and expense, I am just happy to be heading home.

Global climate change is real, and this kind of birding contributes to it......it's good to offset your emissions  https://www.goldstandard.org/

2024 Oregon Owls

 I live in Lake Oswego Oregon with my wife Tui, my sons Charlie (12) and George (9) and sassy pitbull Maile. This post is about the owls I find in Oregon this year.

Jan 4th. Returning from a night walk with Maile I heard a barn owl screeching as it flew over our yard. 

Jan 7th. While walking Maile after dark, I heard a barn owl screeching in the neighborhood.

Jan 14th. Charlie, Maile and I were walking at Luscher Farms when we found a dark roosting barn owl in a Doug fir. 

Jan 21st. Maile and I got up before dawn and headed down to Browns Ferry. The trail was covered in icy slush and it drizzled slightly. Despite this I heard a great horned owl singing, and eventually saw it fly over the Tualatin river. A few minutes later I found a barred owl perched low in an alder tree at first light. 

Jan 27th. I heard a great-horned owl singing through my bedroom window. Sure enough I found the owl perched high in a cedar tree in the back yard.  

Feb 3rd. While at Iron Mountain, Tui and I heard a whole gang of agitated robins, jays and chickadees. After a lot of searching, I eventually found a pygmy owl high in a maple tree. 

Feb 4th. I walked Maile along Bount Swale at first light on a lovely frosty morning. I was hoping to find a barn owl, but instead heard a distant great-horned owl.

Feb 9th. I visited Coffee Creek Wetlands before dawn to look for owls. I heard an dog like 3 note call from high in some fir trees. I was eventually able to track down the owl-a great horned. This is the first time I have heard this three note call. 

Feb 23rd. Maile and I walked Iron Mountain (Lake Oswego), and heard a great-horned owl singing nearby.

March 2nd. Around dawn I heard and then saw a barred owl at Brown's Ferry.

March 3rd.Charlie, Maile and I went to Powell Butte at dusk in search of a long eared owl reported last week. We didn't see it, but did find both a singing pygmy owl, and a hunting great-horned owl.

March 15th. I got up early and went to Elk Rock, where I found a screech owl near the entrance to the park.

March 26th-28th. A few days before, Charlie and I had attempted to head out to the John Day River. East of Government Camp we got a flat. Our car has run flat tires, so we had no spare. We tried to use a can of goo on the tire, but it only slowed the leak. It was a miserable day, with sleet and heavy rain, and reluctantly we decided to return to Portland.

Equipped with new tires, we headed out East again. Just North of Clarno we found a great-horned owl nesting in Cottonwoods. We found a beautiful place to camp in a grove of mature juniper trees. Once we had set up camp and eaten, we hiked up the slope towards Chinaman Hat. Our goal was Tule Lake, which I imagined would be a haven for owls in this desiccated land.   

                                                View about 1/2 mile above camp

It was a beautiful bright afternoon. 

                                Maile intrepidly ventures past the No Trespassing sign. 

We eventually reach Tule lake, just as it gets dark. From there we descend, stopping to listen at the denser groves of junipers and creek-side willows. We hear 5 screech owls, and a brief, oh so distant long-eared owl. Tired and happy we make it back to camp around 10pm. We make a fire and cook up cocoa and ramen to replenish.

That night I hear a screech owl calling from the junipers and a great-horned calling from the badlands above the tent.

I wake early and walk around the juniper stand looking for roosting owls and drinking coffee. After breakfast we walk down to the John Day and start looking for owls in the riparian corridor. It  isn't long before some fresh whitewash alerts me, and moments later a long eared owl flushes. The bird perches for a minute, then drops out of sight further in the thicket.

I am thrilled, last night's calling bird was my first in Wasco County, but it's immeasurably better to see one! We explore a bit more, and run into a flock of wild turkeys. I hike back up the side of the valley hoping for more roosting owls, but find none. I decide to head out via Condon to the Heppner area in search of short eared owl. Leaving Clarno it starts to pour, and for a couple of hours the rain is remarkable. We consider returning home, but once we have reception, the phone promises a dry evening. Between Condon and Heppner we find many rough-legged hawks and another great-horned on a roadside nest. Best of all the curlews are back, and we delight, watching them float in the wind as they sing.

Our first stop is just East of Heppner. The valley is saturated with pheasants, chucka and gray partridge. Despite a long cold walk we find no owls. We then follow Sand Hollow Road to the pass. From our windswept perch atop of the pass we park and cook dinner on the stove. Two wonderful short eared owls emerge from the grassland and start hunting the golden hillsides. I'm enthralled watching the owls catch the wind and float like kestrels in the wind. Beyond us the Blues are dusted in snow. It's just a perfect place. 

                                             Looking South from Sand Hollow Road

This was my first short eared owl sighting in Morrow County.  We follow Sand Hollow road North, finding a pair of Great-horned owls nesting by the road. At Hermiston we charge the car, then we follow the interstate East to Quesna County Park on the Columbia. We see a roadside barn owl in the headlights as we pull into the park. The park is in a beautiful setting, but the transcontinental freight trains, and a couple of cars creepily driving up to our tent make for a interrupted night's sleep. 

April 2nd, Charlie and I went for a warm evening walk around Mary S Young park. We heard three great-horned owls, including a begging juvenile and saw one adult flying around in the canopy.

April 12th. While driving along Cesar Chavez at night with my friend Mark, I saw a barred owl near Reed Canyon. 

May 11th. While walking past Lakeridge high I heard a screech during the day. Tui and I returned at dusk and found the owl.

                                                    Phone photo of screech owl

May 12th. Tui and I went to visit the Luscher barn owls, and saw a couple of birds flying around at night.

May 13th. At the far end of Luscher I found another barn owl being mobbed by robins. 

May 14th. Tui and I went for an evening walk, where we found the same neighborhood screech owl singing in a maple tree. 

May 18th. Charlie and I took an afternoon walk at Brown's Ferry, where we found an adult barred owl perched just a few inches above the ground. 

May 20th, Tui and I took a hike at Luscher. Before it was dark, but after sunset, we got to watch a barn owl hunting over the meadows. 

May 23rd, before work, Maile and I walked around Clackamette Pond, where a mob of crows led us to a barred owl.

May 24th, George, Maile and I were camping at Timothy Lake when we heard a distant barred owl calling at dusk.

May 26th, I was leaving the house to walk Maile at dusk, when a barn owl flew over the house.

                                                        Phone photo of barred owl

May 23rd. Tui and I took an evening walk to Luscher Farm. Whilst it was still quite light we had a hunting barn owl pass overhead. Later we found a pair of duetting great-horned owls duetting by the small pine wood. 

May 24th, George, Maile and I went camping at Timothy Lake on a cool damp evening. We heard a barred owl at twilight.

May31st-Jun 2nd, Charlie, Maile and I headed out to Southern Oregon. Our first stop was the hills Southeast of Myrtle Creek. While driving slowly we heard some scolding robins. I stopped, and a pygmy owl flew up, followed by a pair of angry robins in hot pursuit. 

After sunset I soon found a flammulated owl. This was my target and a rarely found bird in Douglas County. I scrambled through a thicket of poison oak, before getting a very close view of this tiny owl. 

On the way to Lakeview, we stopped at Howard Prairie and enjoyed views of a female great-gray on her nest. Just East of Lakeview we drove up into Bullard's Canyon. There we endured the mosquitos while waiting for dusk. Once it was dark I quickly found a couple of singing Flammulated owls. We put up the tent, then drove into town, to hook up the car to a charger. On the walk back to the tent, Charlie spotted an overhead barn owl and we heard a singing great-horned owl.

 On the way home we visited Summer Lake and found a family of long-eared owls (3 juvs and their parents). 

June 4th. Tui and I walked Maile around at dusk and had distant views of a hunting barn owl over the grassland.

June 13th. I walked Maile at Brown's Ferry, where I found a barred owl.

June 15th. Tui and I found a great-horned owl at Luscher Farm. 

June 19th. Tui and I took an evening walk around Luscher and found a begging great horned owl, and nearby a hunting adult.

Jun 23rd. I visited Blount Rd just after nightfall, and found a lovely barn owl in flight and heard a singing great-horned owl.

Jun 29-30th. Maile and I drove out to the hills NE of Prineville, where Chuck Gates had found a pair of barred owls. I camped at the edge of a large meadow, and saw a barred owl in flight. Somewhat surprisingly the owls were silent all night. I had forgotten my sleeping bag so I had to use Maile's bed as a blanket. I also saw a couple of nighthawks, three poorwills and a great-horned owl (the later closer to Prineville).

July 12. Now that the water has receded I was able to wade out to the scablands at Coffee Creek Wetlands, where I found a great horned owl being mobbed by robins.

July 28th. Maile and I took a walk near Clackamas Lake and found a singing pygmy owl at dawn. That evening, Tui and I were walking the neighborhood and we found a singing great horned owl. 

Aug 6th. George and I set up camp at Frying Pan lake. Well before dark we heard a pair of duetting barred owls. Eventually we had a silent bird fly over the clearing at dusk. 

Aug 8th. Tui and I visited Luscher Farm, where we had a great horned owl fly into a try next to us.

Aug 18th. Tui and I were walking the Hallinan neighborhood in Lake Oswego. We heard a great-horned owl singing in the park, Eventually I was able to get good looks of a hunting bird in silhouette

Aug 25th. Charlie and I camped along the PCT, just South of Timberline Lodge. When we arrived it was windy and the mountain was covered in cloud. At 530am, we were awoken by a pair of duetting great-horned owls. The sky was clear, and I was soon able to find the owls as they flew between the spruce trees.  

Aug 27th. While camping with George I in NE Clackamas County I heard a spotted owl calling in the middle of the night.

Aug 28th. Tui and I were walking the Hallinan neighborhood, when we heard a barn owl calling near the elementary school 

Sep 4th. At dawn I saw a barn owl flying quite high at Blount Rd.

Sep 24th. George and I were camping at Oak Fork Campground (Timothy Lake), when I was awoken by a singing sparred owl. In the distance another bird (or barred owl) called occasionally. 

Sep 28th. George and I revisited Timothy lake, this time camping at North Fork Campground, where I heard a saw-whet owl calling in the middle of the night.

Oct 6th. Maile and I drove out to Estacada before dawn in search of Mountain Quail. Near the entrance to Milo McIver State Park entrance I saw a great-horned owl perched on a utility pole.   

Oct 11-12. Maile and I drove out to Anthony Lakes in NE Oregon. My goal was to look for Boreal owl. There was a good network of trails above 7000'. I heard a singing great-horned owl at the lake, but failed to hear any more owls on my 8 mile hike. I camped about 1/2 a mile from the lake and while cooking a snack around midnight, I heard a long-eared owl. The long eared woke me a couple of times during the night. At first light a couple of great-horned owls flew around near by. After breakfast I went for a short walk in search of mountain birds. I found a singing pygmy owl.  

Oct 13th. Tui and I were walking at George Roger's park after dark when we heard a barn owl screeching.

48

Sumatra 2023

For at least ten years I had been thinking about an owling trip to Sumatra. I had a trip planned for 2020, but it was cancelled due to the Covid pandemic. While preparing for this trip, I decided to do the whole trip independent of local guides. This is a break from my current trend of using guides. Although I really enjoyed the companionship of Antonio (Mexico 2020 and 2021), Mauricio (Ecuador 2021) and Alex (Brazil 2022), owling with a guide is fundamentally different from a trip by myself. Traveling by myself is much more stressful. Prior to getting to a location, I usually feel a lot of tension about solving logistical problems. Finding owls is a lot more demanding without local expertise. However, when I am able to successfully pull off both the logistics of getting to the forest, and find the owls independently, the satisfaction feels great. It's also rare to have a real adventure when working with a guide. Usually the worst that can happen is you don't find the owl. Owling alone is much more fraught, and in there lies the nub of why it's a richer experience.

June 2nd. I say goodbye to Charlie and Maile and walk across the park to the light rail. It's strange to ride the train without my youngest, George, who loves to travel by train. I ask myself why I can't be satisfied with family life and why do I always want to leave? I wait for ages for my flight to San Francisco. Things work just fine there, and eventually I board my night flight for Singapore. It's a grueling 17 hour flight and it's really hard to sleep in the middle seat. 

June 4th. At Singapore I am told by an immaculately dressed airport employee I can't go through transfers, and have to pass immigration, before I can access my connecting flight. It's a chaotic hour of running through a huge terminal, trying to navigate the electronic immigration process, taking a bus to another terminal, being told that I am too late to check in, and then having an airline supervisor intervene so I make my flight. I fly to Kuala Lumpur, and then take another flight out to Medan. It's another tight connection at Medan, and again I have to get through immigration and security. My last leg of the journey is the slow flight out to Nias on a tired twin prop Wings plane. 

Nias is a large island West of Sumatra. It's famous for being inhabited for millennia and for having been at the forefront of the terrible 2004 boxing day tsunami. In the small terminal at Gunung Sititoli I find everything I need; a working ATM, a cafe that serves Nasi Goreng and a fixer, who sets me up with transportation to my first site, Onolimbu village. An hour later my driver, Aru, drops me off in a small village. The site does not look great, there are small woodlots, and lots of fields and roadside homes. We step outside the air-conditioned Kijang into the hot sun, Aru smokes, then we say goodbye. I set off to look for good habitat. I soon discover a network of trails through dense, swampy second growth forest. The trails are built up on planks and bamboo poles above shallow standing water. Later I walk the narrow concrete road through the village of Onolimbu to a wide beach boarded by pastures. The sea is completely calm. A soccer match has started, and a crowd has gathered. The people are incredibly friendly, almost everyone calls out a greeting, many in English. Mostly I talk with young guys, whose enthusiasm and warmth borders on softness, and is the polar opposite of militarized young American guys in small towns. 

It's already late in the afternoon so I decide to look for a spot to bivy. I select a raised shelter in a small clearing behind the village for my camping spot. Aside from the abundant mosquitos and the heat it seems like a fine place to spend the night. I stash my bag in a bamboo stand, then return to the shelter and relax as the sun slowly sets. A pair of noisy woodpeckers calls from a dead snag across the clearing.

I decide to start owling before it gets completely dark. Exploring the swampy wood, frogs abound under foot, and I keep an eye out for snakes. It's really noisy with singing frogs, geckos and cicadas. After a few minutes I hear the long begging call of a young strix! My target, the Nias wood owl! I walk slowly towards the sound through viney tangles and downed logs. Soon I hear an adult bird calling from a stand of palms. Under the palms, I see the owl fly silhouetted against the evening sky, and then perch briefly on a palm. I am able to spotlight it, and see it's a large-headed owl with big dark eyes. The face is orange-brown and the breast is rust-colored and faintly barred. The bird looks distinctly smaller than the brown wood owls that I had seen in Kerala. Now two adult birds call, one has a deep single hoot, and the other a series of about five soft hoots in rapid succession. This is surprisingly easy.

Oriental Bay owl is also known from Nias. This is a widespread bird, but it would be a new owl for me, so I decide to search for it. I continue exploring the swampy trails. I see tons of frogs, and hear multiple Nias wood owls. I eventually walk through the village and down to the beach. There is no breeze, and it's intensely humid. Everyone says "hello". I hear two more pairs of Nias wood owls, quite close to each other, and eventually find one to spotlight. I am even able to show a group of local guys the owl, when they approach me and ask what I am doing. It's great to get a sustained view of the owl, but I am so sweaty that my bins keep fogging up. I walk back to the village, and a large group of guys joins me. One guy asks me about my plans, and reluctantly I reveal that I plan on camping in the woods. He takes me to the head of the village. After a lot of conversation they let me know that they want to run me to a hotel that's up the road. I try and insist on camping, but it's clear they are not OK with that. About eight of us leave on motorcycles, stopping along the way, so I can retrieve my carefully hidden bag.

As we ride out of the villages, most of my companions leave, and eventually it's just me and the village head on one bike, and a guy who speaks better English on another. We ride for about 45 minutes, and eventually stop at a small village police station. Here things get weird. The police officer asks to see what's in my bag, so I reluctantly show him. He also asks to see my money, to which I decline. " I have money, but I don't want to show you" I explain. They then ask if they can video an interview with me. I start to feel really uneasy, but agree. A guy pulls out a mobile phone and videos me answering basic questions like where I am from etc. I am really tired by now, and just want this to be over. Eventually the officer offers me a small room. I initially take it for a cell, and don't want to go in, but then realize it's his little dorm (because it's full of log books and he removes a couple of personal belongings from it). I agree and thank him. The crowd disperses and within a couple of minutes I fall into a deep sleep.

June 5th. I wake at first light to the sound of roosters, surprised to find myself on a small wooden cot in an Indonesian police station. I decide to leave, before I can get any more embroiled in other people's plans for me. I thank the policeman who gave me his room, and walk up the road. After about a kilometer I find a roadside warung and order noodle soup and hard boiled eggs. The food comes with blazing hot chilies that lights me up and has me sweating like crazy. My nose runs, and my head glows with the heat of the chilies, but I persevere because it's delicious. I continue my walk towards Gunung Sititoli, the main city on Nias. School is about to start, and I am amazed by the number of kids in different uniforms walking and riding their bikes and motorbikes to school. Eventually I am able to flag down a ride. I am surprised that the driver is a woman running a couple of folks up to the airport. (These types of jobs are usually held by guys in Indonesia. Women work service jobs, like flight attendants, or in stores. The dynamic of being a woman driver, and being alone with men in cars makes this a very challenging for some Indonesian people to accept). My driver chain smokes and when we get to the airport high fives the other drivers. It's always cool to meet women breaking away from traditional roles. After the airport, she runs me up to town, and drops me off at the Nasional hotel. It's a hot, big box of concrete on the waterfront. Town is quite big, and busy. The people are still friendly, and it feels like a welcoming place to walk around, even if it's hot and noisy. 

It's barely mid morning and I don't have a lot to do. I spend the day resting, having lunch and then looking for a place to change my dollars (which I don't succeed in doing). I have one more night in Nias. My goal is to head to a small wood above town and look for owls there. It's not a bold plan, but I have a very early flight and I don't want to arrange for a driver to pick me up from a remote part of Nias in the wee hours. Instead I take a 4km evening walk along the main road, that follows the calm bay side, then up a short, but remarkably steep road to a hill above town. The hill has a few hectares of forest and some small farms. I sit on a big rock and watch the sun set and see the swiftlets and bats feed over the fields. 

                                                        Hilltop above Gunung Sititoli
 

Just like the night before, I hear a juvenile wood owl begging, then a couple of adults calling back and forth. Eventually an adult bird approaches very closely. I get a great, but brief view of the rust colored owl as my flashlight scares it back into parts unseen in the forest. Again I am struck by how small and brightly colored these owls are. Tonight I hear a low longish hoot, and from a second bird, a higher pitched hoot. I am unable to detect any bay-owls, and can't find any forest trails to explore. I enjoy the night walk back to the hotel. I stop by a really friendly warung, run by a family from Ache who serve me up their traditional saucy noodles. 

June 6th. I had arranged a driver to take me to the airport, and everything works as planned. I catch the first flight to Medan, then transfer to another small plane bound for Simeulue. Simeulue is a smaller island Northwest of Nias. From the air, things look promising, with good forest surrounding the airport. Using Google maps, I learn there is a bunch of surf lodges near the airport. I take a motorcycle a few kilometers to Salt Surf Lodge. We pull into a beachy-looking place. In front of the lodge is a reef, over which some lovely-looking waves arc and then brake. A few surfers ride the waves in, taking care to splash into the water before hitting the reef.  

The lodge is a little pricey, but I appreciate it's location (near good habitat and the airport) and being able to get all my meals in one place. After the airless tomb-like quality of the Nasional Hotel, it is nice to have a view and a sea breeze. 

I eat a great lunch with a bunch of Australian surfers and then rest during the heat of the day. As the sun begins to descend, I set out on a longish walk out to hillside forest. While walking I meet dozens of people, all greet me warmly. Hiking a forest track a couple of ladies pass on a motorcycle, and stop to take their photo with me. 

                                                        Papaya Ladies from Simeulue 

An hour later I walk past their farm, and they call to me, and give me some papaya to eat. We share the fruit, which is brilliant and helps replenish me. I say goodbye, and continue on passing through a large friendly village, and finally climbing up a path into some second growth forest. I lay in the short grass waiting for darkness, while a small group of water buffalo graze around me. 

                                                            Simeulue scops owl site
 

My target is Simeulue scops owl. A tiny, yellow eyed owl, unique to this island. It's not yet dark, when the first owls start singing. It's an incredible call. A series of short yelping calls, the last ones more emphatic. A second bird joins in with a high pitched, short shriek. I am soon able to spotlight a pair of these noisy owls. They are tiny, short-tailed owls. Their plumage is very soft and loose. Their ears are small, but distinct and eyes are brilliant yellow. Bill is dark gray and small. The face is light rufous with gray edging, giving a patchy effect. The breast is similarly colored , but with a few black shafts on some of the feathers and some white spots on the belly.

Happy, I walk back through the village through clouds of wood smoke that hang over the grassy track as the imam calls out the faithful. It's a long walk. I hope to find the papaya ladies, but their farm looks deserted. Nearby I find another pair of scops owls. I arrive at the lodge a bit after 9pm. Thankfully they have save me dinner. I am starving, and the food is excellent.    

June 7th. I have an easy day today. There are no flights today, and I have seen my target owl. I take a couple of morning walks under the hot sun. I swim a little, but it's difficult to navigate the coral and the swell, and I am a bit of a coward in the ocean. Late in the afternoon I head out to some nearby forest. It's a beautiful place with a rocky hill with lots of palms. I endure lots of mosquitos and as soon as it gets dark a Simeulue scops owl flies over me!

I find another scops a little further up the road. I had planned on walking further, but the noise of a large generator puts me off. I head back to the lodge to catch up on some sleep.

June 8th. I wake around 4am, and have lots of time to kill before my flight. 

                                                    View at dawn from Salt Surf Lodge 

On the flight across to Medan I see lots of pristine forest along the mountainous central spine of Sumatra. That is where I hope to be owling tonight. At Medan, I use Whatsapp to connect with I Can Car Rental. They pick me up at the entrance to the terminal and we sort everything out in the parking lot. It's all pretty seamless until I hit the road. I have a hard time driving on the other side of the road, plus the tint on the windows is so dark that I struggle using the mirrors. Compounding all this, my boots are too wide for the pedals, so I keep catching the the side rather than the accelerator. I pull up to a toll booth only to find I can only pay by by pre-paid card. A couple of locals hook me up with a card, and the other drivers are really patient with me. Google maps, takes me on a complex detour involving a U-turn off the freeway. It's a slow start! Once I leave the freeway traffic is very heavy and slow out of Medan. It takes me 4 hours to cover 80km. By the time I reach the hills it's pouring. Then the car in front of me pulls dramatically to the right as a motorbike, followed by two riders on their backs slide down the hill in front of me at high speed. Remarkably the rider springs to his feet at the end of their long asphalt slide. Higher up the road follows many switchbacks. It's not easy navigating some very slow heavy trucks, but at least traffic opens up. 

My destination is the hill-town of Berastagi. This is a very convenient destination from Medan, but has a had very little ebird activity. This had concerned me, as I suspected that the habitat may have been badly degraded. I had decided on this place, in part because I had wanted to create my own itinerary, and not just go the same place everyone goes to see Sumatra's mountain birds (Kerinci National Park). Google Maps delivers me to a gated road to some radio towers. 

                                                    View from the radio-tower road
 

It's stopped raining and is cool and beautiful out. I park up, and walk slowly up the thin strip of asphalt through beautiful primary montane forest. I am listening for Sunda owlet as I walk. I reach the top of the hill after a few kilometers, and discover a mountain bike trail leading along an eastern ridge. I follow the trail, which conveniently leads me back to the car. Along the way I get caught in a cloud burst. It's a steep slippery trail down the hill, but I make it back unscathed. By the time I reach the road, the rain has let up. I loath driving the rental car, so walk down to the edge of Berastagi, where I find a warung serving Ache food. I have a big night planned (search for Rajah and Vanderwater's scops owls), so I eat a good fish dinner, chased by a incredibly sweet coffee and feel revived. 

Walking back through strawberry fields to the car in the drizzle I hear a Sumatran frogmouth call from a huge tree. I repeat the loop up to the radio-towers listening for both scops owls. I hear intermittent calls of Vanderwater's scops, but despite a half a dozen efforts to track them down in the forest, they all fall silent as I approach. It's not easy following these birds off the road, the hillside is steep, overgrown with tangles and blocked by fallen logs. Near the radio-tower I hear a loud song of Rajah Scops. I soon spotlight it and get beautiful views of this owl with striking orange eyes, large erect ear tufts, and white upper edge of the facial disc that also leads into the ears. Below the bird is light gray, with white and darker spots on the belly. It has an obvious whitish bar across the folded wing. The tail is at least as long as the folded wing. The back is darker gray-brown than the belly. The bird is big (for a scops) and very striking, looking superficially like an African white-faced owl. The bird sings on and off, a wide variety of loud gruff calls.

I continue to the summit, and then down the mountain-bike trail. I spotlight a perched Sumatran frogmouth, which for a quick minute I thought was a Vanderwater's scops! I also disturb some loud arboreal mammals, probably monkeys. I make it back to the car near midnight and decide to crash in a nearby roadside shelter. 

                                                            My accommodation at Berastagi

June 9th. Around 3am I wake by a car stopping. A guy is investigating the rental car which is parked a couple hundred yards up the road. I am too tired to bother, so I ignore him. Soon I hear him drive off. A little later, I am wake again, this time the same car is parked outside the shelter. I sheepishly say hello to the driver and his young son. He bids me goodnight and heads off in his car. He returns soon after, and I can hear him below me (there is a steep drop off below the shelter, and there is space to stand below the platform). The man and the son light a fire below me. I initially had think that they were starting their day, and going to prepare food, but instead they leave once the fire is lit. I understand that they made the fire to warm me, and am moved by their openness to hosting me and thoughtfulness for helping me stay warm. I mull over these thoughts, then my alarm beeps, it's 4am! I pack, then head out into the forest, doing the loop up to the radio-towers in reverse. I hear several Vanderwater's scops, a rajah scops and Sumatran frogmouth. despite my best efforts I can't get close to a Vanderwater's scops, each falls silent as I creep through the dark thickets towards them. 

It's still quite dark when I hear a Sunda owlet singing. Nearby a Barred Eagle owl calls. It's a long wait for it to get light enough for me to see it, but eventually I get to see the tennis ball shaped owl zip across the road a few times. I have to content myself with it's diagnostic, boop, boo boo call rather than a great view of the bird. 

I walk quietly down the road back to the car. I write a thank you note for the guy who checked on me last night and leave it at the shelter, pinned down by a rock on top of a log chair. Inside it's still pleasantly warm and smokey.  

I drive down to last night's warung. To my surprise it's been converted to a Padang style cafe. This is my favorite Indonesian food. I get to pick several tiny plates of delicious rich spicy food. The style of the food is a bit like Burmese food, and is distinctively richer and more intense than other Indonesian food I have eaten. After a slow breakfast I drive out to Lake Lawar. This is a forested lake at the foot of Gunung Sinabung, a dramatic volcano. I plan to explore both the lakeside forest and the lower slopes of Gunung Sinabung for Vanderwater's scops. It's short, but tedious drive on a pot holed road up to the lake. Although there are a couple of lodges and some organized camping at the lake, I am dismayed to find that the is no trail system through the fine looking lakeside forest. Worse still the trail up the volcano has been closed for years due to volcanic activity. After poking around a bit in a vain effort to find a trail, I give up. I drive North, to the head of the valley, where Google maps satellite view indicated a nice area of roadside forest. I drive along a slow potholed road through coffee plantations to a pass. From there the road enters a protected area, with thick montane forest. The road then plunges steeply down to a valley. For the first kilometer the road is contained by tall wire fences on either side-definite impediments to owling. Lower down the forest is accessible from the roadside, but the elevation feels a bit low and I am put off the site. 

I am still unresolved where to owl tonight, so I head out to the trailhead for Gunung Sibayak (another volcano, this one just above Berastagi). I find an excellent patch of roadside forest on the approach to trail-head, plus more promising forest on the lower part of the trail. I return to the farmland above town and find a hotel and catch a couple of hours sleep. 

I wake at 6pm, and head out in search of food. A nearby store makes me ramen, egg and sweet tea. By now it's almost dark, so I gather my gear and head out up the road towards Gunung Sibayak. It hadn't rained today, and the evening air is heavy. The road climbs out of pastures, through bamboo forest and finally into primary forest. I explore several side trails, all radiate into a maze through the forest. I use my phone to take compass bearings, but find that I am able to navigate by remembering little details, like fallen logs or a conspicuous foot print in the mud. I hear lots of Vanderwater's scops, probably 15. Sometimes I hear duets, one bird a little lower pitched than the other. I am frequently surprised by just how far their quite two note whistle carries. I hear a bird below an embankment, and creep down an impossibly steep and tangly hill, my belly pressed into the soft rich soil as I squeeze under low branches. It sounds right there, but turning on my flashlight reveals just a mass of leaves, and the owl of course falls silent. 

I find a huge toad, the size of a grapefruit. He's indifferent to me, and refuses to budge as I carefully navigate over him. Two different barred eagle owls call from the forest. By 1045pm, I decide to return to the hotel for some rest. Along the way back down the road I decide to try and spotlight the owls. (I don't normally walk with a bright light, but the scops owls are both abundant and hard to track down). Close to the hotel, I flush a small roadside owl. It flies up to a tangle of vines on the side of the road, where I get a good view of it. It has yellow eyes, is small and rufous, with small raised ear tufts. It has a slight whitish edge above the rufous facial disc. There is a white wing bar, rufous underparts and overall much smaller than last night's Rajah scops. It's a Vanderwater's scops, a potential split from Mountain scops owl, a widespread owl of South East Asia with a a rather fragmented range. 

June 10th. Back at the hotel, I consider trying to change my flight back to Singapore. This would give me the chance to get to Southern Malaysia for a night to look for some new lowland owls. I soon abandon this plan as expensive and hard to really pull off effectively. I decide instead to visit Bukit Lawang, the site of a former orangutan rehab center at the edge of Gunung Leuser National Park. My targets are a couple of more widespread lowland owls; Oriental bay owl and reddish scops owl. There is almost no information on birding this site, but I know there is extensive forest covering low foothills, so there should be good habitat. 

I get up at first light and drive to the nearby Padang cafe and eat a most excellent breakfast. It's an easy drive down the main highway, until fucking Google maps leads me along a maze of rocky tracks through oil palm plantations. I have to baby the little black Honda over the rocks ever so slowly to keep it from getting grounded. After an hour of this bullshit I reach a better road, and from there it's a straightforward drive. Around noon, I stop at a roadside warung. Inside, guys smoke, others play chess, while one just kills flies with a fly swatter, then brushes them on the floor. It's hot under the metal roof. I watch the lady prepare my food. She brings me a plate of noodles, with bean sprouts, chewy greens and tofu, drenched in a spicy peanut sauce. It's brilliant. I would have ordered a second plate, but modesty prevents me from asking for more. I arrive at Bukit Lawang soon after lunch. It's a bit annoying, both oppressively hot and with lots of guys offering to be my jungle guide. After reading a map, I realize there is a road-less area across the river with a couple of fancier lodges. I head over there, and after a short hike, pass a couple of orangutans hanging out with a group of local tourists. I squeeze by on the trail, and a big red ape reaches out to me with a giant leathery hand as if to push me along. I reach a nice place, Orang Utan Bungalow and check into a wooden cabin. I agree on a plan with a local guide, Robin, to take an afternoon hike together. My goal is to figure out the lay of the land, so that after dark I can sneak into the park and look for owls. (My impression is that guides are compulsory, and that there are no serious birding guides available). 

Around 4pm, Robin and I take a 15 minute stroll into the park. I get to see that there are no rangers at the gate, and that the trail into the park is easy to follow. After dinner, I am lacing up my boots when I think I hear a reddish scops owl below the cabin. I chase it around a small stand of rubber trees, never quite sure if it's a reddish scops owl. The area is noisy with the sounds of the nearby river and motorcycles and music from town. Next I walk unobtrusively through the garden and up into the national park. Despite the excellent habitat, it's not very owly. I walk and stop to listen every couple of hundred meters, hearing only frogs and insects. There are tigers and leopards here, and when I see eye-shine from a nearby thicket I am startled. I walk loudly towards the brilliant eyes, and am relieved when a deer bolts out. I follow a ridge trail for a ways, then descend down the side of it. When the trail forks, I mark the dirt with my boot to show my returning self the right way out of the forest. I do my best to memorize the features of the trail like downed logs, stream crossings and the few steep rocky sections. After three hours of owling I descend to a second stream, which I cross several times. I feel I just should not go any further for risk of getting lost. As I rest for a minute I hear a distant reddish scops owl. This bird is like the Pied Piper of owlers, calling me deeper into the jungle. I end up chasing the bird first down, then back up, and finally down a hill, before I get amazing views of this lovely owl. It's back is warm brown, the belly is cream, infused with reddish tones and covered with diagnostic black spots. The bill is large, prominent and distinctly pale horn. The eyes are large and dark amber. The facial disc is dusky in the center, and paler at the edges. The impression of the owl is large headed and small bodied with strong legs, like the shape of a saw-whet owl. Wow, what a great find! When I visited Southeast Asia in the early nineties, I had always wanted to find this bird. I considered it a real birder's bird, more nuanced and elusive and much less brash than the pittas and trogons that I was actually finding. 

I start to retrace my steps, momentarily interrupted by a thin aggressive snake that chased me down the trail. Close inspection reveals it's actually a giant earthworm, about a half meter long! After about a kilometer, I start to doubt that I am on the correct trail. Later I reach a small peak, and pull out my phone. My one bar of signal, allows me to map my location. I am walking away from the park entrance! It's hard to use Google maps and my compass, but I think I have to retrace my steps. I return to the bottom of a very steep climb, where I reach a creek I had recently crossed. Even though the creek is familiar, I am unable to find any trail on the far side of the trail, and so am unable to continue to backtrack! I hike slowly now, back up to the peak. I am wet with sweat, and thirsty. I review Google maps and listen to the faint sound of motorcycles. I conclude I must have missed the trail on the other side of the stream, so climb back down the very steep trail. Back at the stream there is no fucking trail on the other side. I want to drink the water, but am fearful of getting sick. I know that when you are lost in the jungle, you can follow a stream, which will lead you down to stream-side habitations. I am nervous of doing this. I am in the foothills, and the terrain is steep. And the rocks by the creek are incredibly slick. Still I decide to try. After I couple of minutes I come to a six meter high waterfall, flanked by rocky slopes. I realize that there is no way I can climb past the waterfall. Relieved I return to the trail, and climb wearily back to the hill top. I decide to try and call Tui, and see if she can call Orang Utan Bungalow.

June 11th. At the top of the hill I call Tui. She is very calm, and takes down all the information. It's about midnight, and we agree that I will shut of my phone, rest and check back when I awaken. I have slept in the jungle a lot, but this is the first time I have just lain on the jungle floor. I don't feel scared, but I do feel that I am going to miss my flight home and that this is serious, I could be out here for a long time. I am really tired, and feel really peaceful, but my sleep is interrupted by inch long ants, with huge heads like a wasp, that crawl over me. 

I rouse myself at 130am, and turn on my phone. It's full of messages. Dede, the owner of the Orang Utan Bungalow has left me Whatsapp voice messages to stay put, and to scream for help. It feels surreal. I set my flashlight like a flare into the earth, and set it to strobe. The whole canopy of huge trees above me pulses with white light. I yell out into the forest "help". This is unreal. On my trips I am always asking for something, directions or to buy something, but I never really need help. Not like this, were I feel totally stuck, and unable to take care of myself. One of the rescuers calls me, and reminds me to keep screaming, which I do. Around 2am I hear voices. The rescuer asks me to approach them, so I descend the ridge, finding a new trail, which takes me to a low point on the ridge, where I can no longer hear them. I yell again and again. I worry that they may walk past my hilltop and I decide to hustle back there. Back at the hilltop, I wait some more, yelling and listening. Eventually I hear voices again, they sound a bit closer, and I descend in their direction. Suddenly I see lights in the distance. I take a tiny trail across a steep hillside and find three guys. I am so happy to be safe, and ashamed that I could not take care of myself. They give me water and I apologize for doing this. They smoke a few cigarettes and call the other rescuers and Dede. I send Tui a message. We hike for about half an hour, then join with three more rescuers. We stop for more cigarettes, then men seem lighthearted and they joke with each other. Again we walk for about half an hour, then join another group of three. We sit on logs talking, engulfed in a cloud of cigarette smoke. Finally we descend out of the forest. I follow behind a barefoot rescuer, his feet covered in white clay, a small puncture, probably from a hungry leech, in his left calf leaks blood. It's a long walk back to the bungalow, and when we arrive (around 430am), they have prepared food for us. I eat a big plate of salty noodles and drink sweet tea. I thank everyone and tell them that I will make a payment to Dede in the morning. 

I sleep heavily until my cabin becomes intolerably warm by the intense morning sun. After breakfast I meet with Dede and a local police man. 

                                                         Dede, the man who saved me

We talk for ages about what happened and also about his conservation project to convert his parent's farm to an ecotourism lodge. Slowly the topic comes round the paying for the rescue. I offer my remaining dollars ($412), which Dede accepts. Dede will then distribute the money to the guides who rescued me. (I really owe so much to Dede. He was remarkably organized and efficient in getting a three teams out into the forest in the middle of the night. He directed the teams and made the whole thing work). Together we also write a police report. I then say thank you and goodbye. I shower and pack. I suspect that things were not quite "over". For one I am relived and surprised to have not been arrested for venturing into the park without a guide. Just as I leave, Dede calls me to let me know the local money changer would not accept my worn dollar bills. We meet up, and Dede drives me to the money changer, an affable man and proud Hajii. We talk about his pilgrimage, while he runs my debit card. I get my dollars back, and Dede gets some crisp pink rupiah. I say another heartfelt goodbye to Dede and then set off for Medan.

The drive is hard because the road is narrow, and it's edges of the road very tall. Plus there are tons of slow vehicles to pass. It's a relief to finally get to the toll road and enjoy some boring highway driving to the airport.

I fly to Singapore direct, and even catch a little sleep on the plane. I feel a little overwhelmed when I arrive at Changi airport. My goal is to get out to a city park and find Singapore scops owl, a potential split from Sunda scops which inhabits the Southern end of the Malay peninsula. I luckily make the last MRT train from the airport all the way Bukit Batok MRT station.  At the station there is a Seven Eleven and I replenish myself with a sandwich and Monster energy drink. 

June 12th.  I walk a couple of kilometers to Bukit Batok reserve. The city is quite, no one is out except for a couple of taxi drivers. Singapore is a good city for a night walk, it's safe, almost boring. Plump rats scour the neatly trimmed grass verges in search of a meal. The reserve is a small limestone hill, covered in jungle with a good network of paved trails. I decide to put on my snake guards. Despite being in safe Singapore, that rocky terrain looks very snakey! I hear multiple Singapore scops owls calling and eventually catch one in flight under a street light, a big, broad winged, grayish-brown scops owl. It's now 2am, and I have nowhere to go. I rest in a gazebo and take in the sounds of the owls and insects. Eventually I hear a red junglefowl crow. It's time to go. I catch the first MRT back to Changi airport. My flight is overbooked, so I am sent to long way back to San Francisco (via Taipei), rather than direct. Still it does not matter, at least I made it out of the jungle in one piece. 

 

Acknowledgements: Frank Rheindt helped me greatly with specific birding information and sound recordings of Nias Wood owl. Sin Yong Chee Keita helped me out with practical information on finding Singapore scops owl.

 

This type of birding is really harmful to the environment. Particularly air travel contributes to global warming. It's possible to mitigate the impact by buying carbon offsets, which are quite affordable. You can learn more at https://www.goldstandard.org/

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