Biology Reference
In-Depth Information
shot during the fall and spring migrations. In contrast, the crane population in Bhutan has in-
creased by 25 percent during the past few years, probably as a result of habitat conservation.
Like clockwork, the cranes return each year from their breeding ground on the Tibetan Plat-
eau between October 23 and 26 and stay until late February. Here they are protected by local
village committees and the government. The cranes now attract ecotourists, many of whom
join the annual festival that welcomes the huge birds back to Bhutan. Schoolchildren dress up
in elaborate crane costumes. Although the cranes had already left for their breeding grounds
at the time of our visit, we could imagine the vast wetland alive with the birds.
Early the next morning, under threatening clouds, we met our trekking company guide, his
staff, and their donkeys. We would spend the next three days on the Gangte path through the
Black Mountains; the trail climbs over three passes, weaving through oldgrowth forests and
some of the best upland bird-watching areas in Asia. The route through the forest promised
good sightings of satyr tragopans, a rare species of pheasant so named for its head feathers
that resemble a satyr's goatlike horns. Everyone admires the most colorful members of the
pheasant family; peacocks and ringnecked pheasants belong to this group, as do the crimson
fireback and golden pheasants of China. We also hoped to see the Himalayan monal, a huge
pheasant cloaked in metallic green, bronze, blue, cinnamon, and purple, with a distinctive
wirelike crest of feathers. We listened intently for the whistled “
Kur-leiu
” of the monal and
the wailing “
Waah! waah!
” of the tragopan as we began our trek through the forest.
Progress was slow, not so much because of the altitude as because I wanted to stop and
look at every bird and plant we passed. Naturalists instinctively know how to practice what
Buddhist teachers call the sacred art of pausing. For the naturalist, the best birding sometimes
happens when you find a good place to sit and the birds come to you. No more life list, no
more fixated desire. Simply wait, hands on binoculars, for something unexpected to happen.
For the Western birders on a deadline who all but require ticking so many species on their
life list by such-and-such a point in the journey, this philosophy is anathema; the birding trip
must be strategized with the cold-blooded efficiency of a US Navy SEAL operation. For the
Buddhist, pausing is a way to stop, notice, and then release thoughts and desires that crowd
the coop of the hyperactive mind. My allegiance was starting to shift.
Once we had gained the first pass, we dropped into another deeply forested valley. Far
from any village, we entered an old-growth hemlock and juniper forest. Here the trees were
one and a half meters in diameter and as straight and tall as the masts of great schooners. Un-
derneath was a dense understory of the sweet-smelling cream-colored flowers of
Daphne
, a
common ornamental shrub in the United States and in the Himalayas used for paper produc-
tion. The bright yellow pea flowers of
Piptanthus
lit up the trails. In the forest were rhodo-
dendron shrubs as well as trees. We also found azaleas, barberry, wild clematis, and other
shrubs whose close relatives appear in gardens back home. As we started up the final pass,
