In his book Tales of a Tribe, author Mark Cocker describes an unfortunate incident that happened to a friend. One night while camping in the Himalayas, a birding friend heard a Satyr Tragopan calling He left the camp to look for the bird, and was never seen again. The non-birds will ask: what happened, did they search and look hard, did aliens abduct him? The birds will ask: did he see the bird? Sadly, we don’t know.
Is birding a dangerous sport, an extreme sport? In his truly entertaining book about his Australian Big Year, Sean Dooley describes how British birder Mike Entwhistle sets the Australian Big Year record while on a birding world tour. He then left for Peru and was abducted and killed by Sendero Luminoso – the local brand of Maoists. Phoebe Snetsinger is an American birder who first passed the 8,000 species mark. He died in a car accident on a birding trip. And one of the first stories in his biography is how his friend died of altitude sickness. Famous ornithologist Ted Parker crashes on a mountain in Ecuador while checking on birds. Etc. You can’t be blamed for thinking that the birders are much like Kennedy’s: beautiful but passing before their time.
All these people are legends – I barely scratched the past 2000 in half a century. However, I have my own stories and you may find them amusing, or just an excuse to say “Peter, you’re an idiot” or learn how to avoid a similar fate. Here are my Top 3, with another incident already covered in a previous post.
For number three we have to travel to Mahango Park in Namibia. This is a small and very interesting park in northern Namibia. It has all the Big Five animals and many other rugged mammals. However, you are allowed to exit your vehicle… if you are “be careful when walking“. I drove and went to the floodplain of the Kavango river. Before leaving the safety of the vehicle, I followed the park’s advice and checked for animal signs of any biting, chewing, mauling, trampling, stabbing or disembowelling. Nothing found. I went out and walked to the edge of the river, and started looking for birds while standing by a bush. Lapwing is long-toed, Ashy Tit, Black-backed Cisticola, Lizard Buzzard, Meyer’s parrot and Southern Black Tit are just some of my rewards (these are my lives that day). What a beautiful place for birds. After about 10 minutes of bliss I heard a grunt and at the same time I noticed a body odor, a musky smell. Looking to the left I saw a large, male buffalo behind the bush. Just a few meters away from me. His eyesight was obviously not good and the wind was in my direction so he hadn’t noticed me yet. An old blind bull would only do something with any perceived danger, so I had to get away quickly and unnoticed. Now imagine a middle-aged birder, tip-toeing backwards through the thorn and you will understand what the next 5 minutes look like for me. 5 minutes? It seems like a lifetime. Back in the car and after my heart rate had slowed below a thousand beats per minute I started to think. How did I miss this monstrosity? Still no tracks to be seen (I double checked). And then I realized: he crossed the river…
Another time, I found myself in the Chimanimani Mountains on the border between Mozambique and Zimbabwe. My project in Mozambique involved Lake Chicamba Real – a large reservoir behind a dam on the River Revué. The reservoir provides drinking water to the town of Chimoio and processes water to my client. I walked to the water’s edge and noticed large indentations in the beach mud that resembled dinosaur footprints. Having learned from my Namibian experience, I moved away quickly. Today, not eaten Nile crocodiles isn’t actually my extreme birding example number two. That’s just a warm-up.
After work, I decided to spend the rest of the day near the lake and the surrounding hills. I went to Casa Msika – a small hotel. I grabbed a drink and walked to the property. The miombo forest showed its best side in one bird party after another. Almost none of the “miombo lulls” – those times when you don’t really see anything. As an aside, outside of Africa “bird parties” are called “mixed feeding flocks” – that says it all, doesn’t it? I ended up scoring four lifers: African Dusky Flycatcher, Village Weaver, Whyte Barbet and Zebra Waxbill. The sum is higher with an absolutely stunning view of a African Paradise Flycatcher. Then I heard a rustling. I listened, ascertained where the commotion was coming from, I thought “probably birds hovering over some predator, maybe an owl, us” and moved towards the flock of birds. The following set of events happened within one second. My description may give the impression of agility and athleticism on my part – that would be the wrong conclusion to draw. But let’s see what happened. At the very moment I saw the flying birds, a huge snake shot at me and rose up. In a startled reflex, I jumped and the snake struck my boot. While in the air I saw the large and gaping black mouth of the snake. The snake shot under me in the cover, I went down and realized a Black Mamba had become too close for comfort. Most of the snakes I encounter are like the Panamanian snake in the picture – moving quickly and harmlessly in the opposite direction. A mamba is another thing that fully warrants its place in my Top 3. Respect!
So, aside from large vicious mammals and venomous snakes, what else can possibly go wrong while birding? Well, here’s my number 1. After another water management training for a large beverage company in Accra I had some time to kill. Grabbed my binoculars, put on flip-flops and hailed a taxi to take me to Sakumono Lagoon. I asked the taxi to wait at the causeway and walked to the marsh. A kind local man offered to build me a bridge over the first canal for just one dollar. He was nowhere to be found for ditch number two so I crossed, followed by the third, fourth and fifth ditches in the same scenario. Amazing birding was my reward: huge flocks of Black-rumped Waxbill, Yellow-crowned Bishop, and Northern Red Bishop and performing/singing Copper Sunbird, Little Bittern and Black Coucal. I also noticed the source of the water in the lagoon as being mostly sewage. When I got back in the taxi, I must have smelled horrible but the taxi driver was more impressed by the blood pouring from my legs and skin – the leeches had their bloody feast.
When I got home, I felt very sick. In my family, we have a tradition (since 1347 when we survived the Black Death) of “wait for the weekend and see what happens”. However, the weekend did not bring much needed relief and I am now violently ill – worse than a normal Monday. Called the family doctor, went through, and was sent to the Tropical Diseases Institute without him taking as much as my pulse… Not good for one’s morale, I can tell you. I was admitted by a doctor in his early thirties. He asked what was wrong and I answered that “I was naughty in Ghana”. His first friendly look turned into an expression best described as “you dirty bastard!”. It wasn’t even a second before I realized”being naughty in Ghana” could be interpreted in an extra-marital way, so I hastened to add “I crossed the sewer”. The look of relief on his face didn’t match the last statement but made a lot of sense throughout the conversation so far. I described what I had done, and he happily began every possible test for every possible tropical disease on his little lab sheet – from bubonic plague to yaws. His whole demeanor simply said: this is what I studied all those years. He was positively cheerful and even recommended me a book to read. After regular bleeding, peeing and pooping in different containers for the next few weeks I actually got better without ever getting a diagnosis. Probably a parasite that I got rid of on my own but just in case it shows up I stay close to Sigourney Weaver…
