There is no question that Indonesia has a bad rap in the minds of most Westerners. Tourism has plummeted following tragedies such as the Bali bombing and the 2004 Boxing Day tsunami. Then too there is the lingering memory of Krakatoa’s monumental eruption, which seems to echo deep in the world’s consciousness every time a major tremor makes the news. The specter of bird flu rears its ugly head from time to time as well. Bad things seem to happen there...

So what was I doing, planning a trip to Indonesia? Not one trip, in fact, but two! The genesis of my planning actually dates back to the first time I overheard a conversation between experienced world birders, several years ago, while on a trip to Sri Lanka. They were raving about the endemic species to be seen in Sulawesi and Halmahera. I had no idea exactly where those places were, but I was certainly intrigued, and did some research as soon as I returned home. I learned that these are 2 islands, along with Java and Sumatra, which form a part of Indonesia’s broad swathe across the western Indian Ocean, the South China Sea, and the extreme southwest Pacific. Sandwiched between Australia and Southeast Asia, the 17,000 islands of Indonesia stretch for 3200 miles from east to west. That is roughly the distance from Highlands to Anchorage. The islands of Indonesia are bisected, roughly north to south, by an invisible bio-geographical barrier, known as Wallace’s Line, after the 19th c. explorer and naturalist, Alfred Russel Wallace. This division effectively ties flora and fauna to either the Austalo-Papuan or SE Asian groups. Each side of the line has its different species, thus both sides are well worthy of a birders’ attention.
Roofline detail,
Minangkabau House, west Sumatra


Sheraton Bandara Hotel pool area


Sheraton Bandara walk by the lake

 More importantly, perhaps, I learned that security measures had been considerably improved, with a concerted effort, aided by US expertise, to rout the Islamic terrorist faction, especially in this year designated to promote tourism in Indonesia. We would not be traveling in any areas prone to terrorist activity. As usual, our birding sites would be largely rural, away from major tourist destinations and intense poultry farming operations. Volcanic action is of course not subject to any sort of human control, but the reality is that earthquakes and eruptions are by far the exception, not the norm, and we only hear about the bad stuff, thanks to our disaster-loving press, not the ordinary, undisturbed, everyday life of the islands.

In consulting with Susan Myers, the excellent Australian leader whom I hoped would take on this dream, it became apparent that “birding Indonesia” was not going to be a single shot proposition, but starting with Java, and its neighbor, Sumatra, would be the way to go. Sulawesi and Halmahera (to the east side of Wallace’s Line) would require a separate trip of their own (stay tuned: if all goes as planned, that will happen this November!) Since neither Victor Emmanuel Nature Tours nor Field Guides, the two top American bird tour companies, were yet offering such trips, and since I’m not getting any younger and habitat has a tendency to shrink, I determined to try to put together my own journeys. I was soon joined in planning by two keen birders whom I had first met in Bhutan, Daphne Gemmill and Bill Mueller. While we originally had several more interested in the trip, attrition set in and we ended up just the three of us, with Susan as our guide. As less is often more on a narrow forest trail, this was fine with us, resulting in excellent views and photographic opportunities, and over 65 life birds for me.

Just a note re photography: Daphne is an excellent photographer, and also a very generous one, so credit for the bulk of the bird photographs in this narrative belongs to her (note the initials dg in captions), with my sincere appreciation. She carries the heavy camera and lenses and does a superb job, capturing shots which I could not get on my best day even though I was usually standing next to her. Thanks, Daphne!

After a night and a half in Singapore for jet-lag adjustment, I arrived in Jakarta, the sprawling capital of Indonesia. With a whopping population of 9 million, the broad sprawl of the city is situated on the northwest end of the island of Java. The dubious distinction of having the world’s highest density of population belongs to Java, with a total of 130 million inhabitants. It would be difficult to ignore this fact.

Arriving in Jakarta on the 3rd of July, we had a day to rest and begin adjusting to the time change (11 hours), staying at the lovely Sheraton Bandara Jakarta. I managed some time in the pool and a massage to get out the kinks from nearly 24 hours of in-plane travel. The noontime call to prayer drifted across the lake as I contemplated a pool-side menu featuring a variety of juices and “mocktails”. Indonesia is 87% Muslim, so alcohol is seldom featured, though beer could usually be obtained and no-one ever seemed to be concerned with our drinking it. As I contemplated my order, I thought, not for the last time, “you’re not in Kansas any more, Toto!”

We celebrated the 4th of July with 3 life birds seen on the hotel grounds, not a bad start! It also felt great to be re-encountering some old friends amongst the Asian avifauna and warming up for the special birds to come. While exploring the extensive grounds of the hotel, I came upon this stunning butterfly, whose common name seems entirely non-lyrical when compared with its beauty: Danaeid Eggfly. Too bad!
Danaeid Eggfly

Bamboo Fishtrap


Mangroves at Panambukan

 Crawling in traffic across the tangle of Jakarta the next morning, I was struck by not only the soaring, modern architecture, but also the proliferation of minarets and towers, all equipped with powerful loud speakers for broadcasting a cacophony of sing-song calls to the Muslim faithful. This became a standard background to every town and village along the way, and while I never could discern a precision as to the timing, the calls seemed to begin variously at around 5 AM, and again about noon, and 6 PM. I never did observe anyone scurrying in response to the mosques (which come in all sizes, from tiny to mammoth), not even in the airports, where dedicated prayer rooms are well sign-posted. In fact, people seemed to take little notice of us, as obvious Westerners, except for wanting to have their pictures taken with us. Only about 50% of the women wore a head scarf, and those varied from flat black (uncommon) to beautifully beaded pastels, to pure white. These could be worn in a variety of ways, from those which clearly restricted peripheral vision, to fashion statements of draping and color. The smiles which shine out from beautifully framed faces could be dazzling. One would occasionally find young children, even babies, clothed in head scarves, and I found this disquieting, I must admit, but clearly this was my problem, not theirs, as the children appeared happy and were, well, just children like any others.

Our first birding venue was Panambukan, an area of large, mud-diked fish ponds where some mangroves still remained. As fresh mud is periodically thrown up onto the dikes to dry and thus maintain them, footing can be a tricky balancing act, and the stuff is incredibly sticky and dense. What was that sucking sound, Daphne? Our fine local guide, Roman, who was with us all along through the trip, saved the day by prying both birder and boot out of the goo that morning! Amid lots of laughs we found some fun lifers, including numerous Small Blue (Cerulean) Kingfishers, Javan White-eyes, and some cooperative Sunda Teal. By the time we got back in the van at 12:30, the A/C certainly felt great, and a roadside lunch of Nasi Goring went down well.

On the ride back to Jakarta, I realized just how popular kite-flying is in Indonesia. Every patch of sky features several, from simple, home-made versions (often fashioned from plastic bags) to more elaborate, long-tailed types, swooping and diving. Kite-flying would surely be a gold medal winner for Indonesia! Everywhere we went, kites filled the sky.

The following day we encountered a true choker of a traffic jam en route to Gunung Gede and Cibodas Botanical Gardens. (“Gunung” = mountain) At less than 2 hours from Jakarta (normally), these cooler, fresher venues are popular escapes from the choke of the city, and today, alas, everyone had decided to head up here. A drive-though safari park/zoo was drawing the bulk of the vehicles, and grid-lock soon set in. Traffic here, as in so many Asian/Pacific areas, is constantly snarled by local mini-van and bus transport, with vehicles darting in and out and stopping abruptly to scoop up and disgorge passengers. In Indonesia, the larger buses seem to be privately owned, and compete avidly for every possible fare. This leads to true chaos at times! At last, the police stopped on-coming, downhill traffic so that another uphill lane or two could snake through, and that finally got us to our accommodations and lunch. Setting out for the gardens by 3PM, however, we now encountered a return flow which equaled the parking lot of the morning. Finally, about 100 yds. from the turn-off to the gardens, we got out and walked to the corner, then jumped on motorbike taxis, called “ojeks”, for the fun ride uphill, through villages and fields, with the peaks of Gunung Gede and Gunung Pangrango as a dramatic backdrop. My driver seemed sure and able, and my only problem was deciding where to hold on! When another bike passed me, I observed hand holds alongside my seat, which helped immensely. While the gardens, which date from 1860, were crowded that afternoon, we could still appreciate their beauty.


Gunung Gede


Pangrango Crater

 The following two days were spent on the main trail up the lower, gentle slopes of Gunung Gede, an active volcano (though not visibly so) and part of the park which features several of Java’s endemic species. It is also a very popular hike, and there were endless groups of young people, families, and school outings plowing up the broad trail. I was struck by the fact that every single person greeted us (“Selamat pagi” if before 11 AM, “Selamat siang” noon to 2 PM, “Selamat sore” 3 to 6 PM), and/or said excuse me before passing us (“permisi”). Several people politely asked if they might have their picture taken with us. It’s true, we did eventually get a bit tired of returning these polite greetings and of the constant stream of people, but we did manage some solitary moments and some fine birds.
This Javan Tesia, for instance, is a member of a small family of birds fondly known as “eggs on legs”, and is barely 3" long. It’s a real cutie, and possibly the easiest of its kind to see, being a good deal less skulking than its relatives and is quite responsive to its taped call.
Javan Tesia
DG


Sunda Warbler
DG


White-flanked Sunbird
DG

Ciboreum Waterfall, Gunung Gede

 Although we had seen several hoped-for birds on our way up to the Ciboreum Waterfall and back, we decided to skip our last scheduled day here in order to explore another, far less visited park, Halimun. This involved some quick shuffling by our ground agents, as we needed a more rugged vehicle to handle the final stretch of rutted, rocky dirt track into the park and the rangers’ guest house where we were able to obtain rooms. Though more than a 4 hour drive which required a 4 AM start, it proved to be a super decision on Susan’s part, as we found over the next day and half of birding here.
While the guest house was a rather simple accommodation, we each had our own room with plenty of space and louvered french doors opening onto a shaded walkway. There was a Western toilet (shared) as well as Asian style, and the rangers, along with Roman, cooked hearty meals for us, featuring chicken, tempeh (textured soy protein, crunchy & tasty as they fried it), , rice, eggs and veggies. Breakfast featured crepe-like pancakes with embedded banana slices. As we later discovered, this is a standard offering, and a delicious one too.
This rattaan palm, growing at the edge of the rainforest behind the guest house, provided a clear photo-op for a very important product of forests all across Indonesia and SE Asia. It is the source of our rattaan furniture, being harvested, of necessity, only by hand. It is a climbing palm, incredibly thorny and a real hazard to encounter while on the trail. It must be stripped of its thorns before being processed into useable furniture material, and while those who work with it must inevitably learn how to handle it safely, I can only imagine that such an occupation is pretty nasty! Unfortunately it cannot be cultivated, so that harvest often involves destruction of the forests in which it grows.
Rattaan

Halimun habitat, dripping vines & epiphytes

 Flame-fronted Barbets provided the background serenade for our hikes, which, though strenuous and along sometimes steep, narrow trails, were taken slowly as we searched for such shy endemics as the Javan Trogon and White-bellied Fantail. We saw both, as well as Spotted Crocias, White-breasted Babbler and Dark-backed Imperial Pigeon. All of them are endemics and were very exciting to see so well. Topping off our last hike was an all too brief look at a soaring Javan Hawk-eagle. The Trogon, Crocias and Hawk-eagle used to be standard birding targets at Gunung Gede, but seem to be getting more and more difficult to see there. Our diversion to Halimun was a great success: the forest was untouched, dense and green, dripping with epiphytes and vines, and will remain a highlight of this trip for me.
Our trip back out of the park, averaging about 5 mph on the difficult road, and on to the coast southwest of Jakarta, was definitely a long haul. My journal described the journey on the main road, a two-laner, as follows: “Traffic is not to be believed - a constant, crawling traffic jam through towns which run together with little evident beginning or end”. With a stop for lunch at a pleasant open-air restaurant along the way, we finally arrived at the coast at 8:30 that evening. Our drive had taken us all the way back across Jakarta and along the coast first via a modern toll-way, then along a factory-lined, truck-clogged, two lane road which eventually passed into villages and more rural scenes. After an excellent dinner cooked and served to us in the relative cool of the evening (no-one else seemed to be there!), we climbed the steep steps of our Torajan-style house and fell into bed. It was only in the dawn light the following morning that we appreciated the intricacy and detail of the small house that we shared.
Torajan House, our Carita accommodation


Torajan House detail
DG

Fishing platforms in the bay at Carita

 Birding that morning was very successful, with more endemics well seen and not another person about on the easy trail up the hill at Carita. Back at the coast for another excellent meal, we could enjoy the view and the lovely breezes, which kept temperature well into the 80's quite pleasant.
While we were situated just down the coast from Krakatoa, the morning haze and the setting sun later conspired to prevent a view of what remains as a very popular tourist destination. The big bang of the massive 1883 eruption seems long ago and far away.

After a nice siesta, our late afternoon birding was slow, though we did see the Javan sub-species of Brown Hawk-owl, and stopped to appreciate the wonders of one species of Amorphophallus. This plant, a smaller version of the monster which is highly prized by botanists, still managed to earn its nickname of “corpse flower”, as its unique fragrance was detectable at a considerable distance. Its unpleasant odor serves to attract pollination by flies and beetles, and actually becomes noticeably stronger at night.


Susan next to Amorophophallus


Brown Hawk-Owl, Java
DG

Ojek taxi at Pulau Dua
DG

 En route back to the Jakarta airport the following day, we stopped to bird at another mangrove remnant, Pulau Dua, which is an island only during the rainy season. The sun was beating down and the mangroves far off across the network of dykes, so we once again hopped on ojeks. The narrow dyke-tops proved to be tricky going, but our drivers had done it all before, no worries!
Here we found a Javan Plover and chick, and Daphne managed to spot a Java Sparrow, which has become a true rarity in Java itself, having been decimated in the wild by trapping for the cage bird trade.

Our flight to Sumatra later that day was a first for me in more than one way. Not only had I never heard of Swirijaya Airways, I had no idea how to pronounce it either! However, the 25 min. flight to Bandar Lampung, on the SE tip of Sumatra, was smooth and efficient, with announcements made in both Bahasa Indonesia and English. The domestic terminals through which we passed on this trip were generally clean and seemed to be of fairly recent construction, open-air for the most part (which was a plus as the A/C really couldn’t keep up in the enclosed areas). The 737-200 was packed with people, of whom we were among the few Westerners, but luggage arrived with no problem and we were soon ensconced in the Sheraton Bandar Lampung. Our trip across the city revealed a less densely packed urban area, with several neon signs proclaiming Dutch and American “bakeries”, plus the usual KFCs and Pizza Huts. A welcome glass of Aussie white wine, a long, hot shower and a bite to eat at our hotel made for a fine night’s sleep.

The next morning we had a bit of a sleep-in and a later start for our 2 hour drive to Way Kambas National Park. More substantial homes, seen en route, were set back from the road with small flower gardens, lending an air of somewhat greater prosperity. Clearly the population density, while still huge by our standards, was far less pressing than on Java.

The Satwa Elephant Ecolodge, less than ½ kilometer from the park entrance, proved to be very comfortable and had delicious, varied food. Again, we were the only guests, and with large, clean, airy rooms, hot showers, good reading lights, plenty of towels and welcoming porch chairs, we settled in happily for four nights. Most birders visiting Way Kambas stay at the rangers’ guest house within the park, and no doubt get some fine dawn choruses as a result, but I must say we all were delighted with Satwa’s quiet situation in a small village, and we were able to be inside the park in no time at all.


Duplex cabin at Satwa Elephant Ecolodge, Way Kambas


Clean and comfy room at Satwa Ecolodge


Way Kambas Park Entrance

Large Frogmouth
DG


Gould's Frogmouth
DG

 The best birding in this lowland forest is along the track which runs in to the ranger station. The park is justifiably known for its fine night-birding, as the following photos can attest.
Bonaparte’s (Sunda) Nightjar gave us great views as it swooped over our heads at dusk. As with so many Indonesian species, it is listed as “vulnerable” by Birdlife International because “it is restricted to low-lying forest in a region where this habitat-type is being cleared and degraded at such a catastrophic rate that rapid and continuing population declines are suspected”. This could be said of many of Indonesia’s birds, unfortunately.

A 20 minute boat ride along the Sungai Way Kanan revealed Cinnamon-headed Green-Pigeons , as well as kingfishers and hornbills. We landed on a mud bank at the trail head which leads to the swamps well inland. There is a small population of Sumatran Elephants here (evidence of which was quite clear along the level trial), as well as Sumatran Tiger (hence the gun, I suppose) and Sumatran Rhino (reintroduced). Conservation projects for both the rhino and the tiger sometimes use these camera traps to catch rare photos of these highly endangered animals.


On the river with ranger on the bow, Way Kambas


Camera Trap (Sumatran Tiger Project)

With the Way Kambas Rangers

 Though we did not see any of these mega-mammals, it was clear that an enthusiastic cadre of rangers is doing its best to protect the park and its precious birds, animals and forest from the constant threats of poaching and logging. As funds for parks and personnel are scarce in Indonesia (and many other countries), their uniforms and dedication were a very welcome change.
A level, 45 minute hike brought us to a very birdy area the first morning, where we sat happily on a log as many species worked the forest edge nearby. Our target bird here was the White-winged Duck, and though we had heard it on the first day, we had not been able to see it. Thus we headed back on our second morning, starting out a bit earlier, and this time deeper into the swamp & forests, where we succeeded in finding the ducks at last. Shy and skittish, these are large, juicy-looking ducks that have no doubt been hunted throughout their limited range. Their lowland forest/riverine habitat is disappearing more rapidly than any other type, thanks to the mushrooming of oil palm plantations. Population estimates range from 250 to 999, though no-one really knows how many may be left.
White-winged Ducks

Oriental Dwarf Kingfisher


Green Broadbill


Barking Deer
DG

 Further birding along the forest track over the next days gave us repeated views of the handsome Crested Fireback Pheasant, Red-crowned Barbets, Barking Deer and the largest of the lesser apes, the Siamang, whose troupes serenaded us daily. While the following digi-scoped photos are not sharp, I‘m including them because they are, despite my inexpertise, smashing birds.
An extraordinary encounter, also along the road, was a pair of Storm’s Storks, seen within 50 yards as we walked around a bend in the track. They too are an endangered forest species, with the estimated remaining population between 250 and 500. While I had had brief views of one individual from a boat on the river in Borneo, seeing these two birds on land and so near was a truly rare event.

Yet another wonderful experience was the “flight” of a Red Giant Flying Squirrel on our last afternoon along the road. Up to 18" in length, plus another 12- 24" of tail, this nocturnal squirrel can glide a hundred yards or more from the top of one emergent tree to the mid-trunk of another. It is an impressive aerial act!


Red Giant Flying Squirrel
DG

Prevost's Squirrel

 Prevost’s Squirrel is another striking arboreal resident, its rich red, black and cream markings making it perhaps the prettiest squirrel of all.
Our final target area in Sumatra required a return flight to Jakarta, where we enjoyed an overnight and a bit of a sleep-in before flying out the next day to Padang, capital city of Western Sumatra Province, with a population of approximately 1 million. It seems to be a greener city, framed by the backdrop of the Bukit Barisan hills, and with an apparently less worldly-wise feel. English seems a lot less readily spoken, there are noticeably more women in head scarves, and the call to prayer is broadcast even over the PA system in the modern airport.
Padang, Sumatra
DG


Padang roof-line and steeple
DG

Minangkabau Home
DG


Minangkabau Home 2
DG

 The soaring, upswept roof-lines of the municipal buildings are symbolic of the horns of the water buffalo, and are derived from the architecture of the traditional homes of the Minangkabau tribe. As we drove inland and up along the highland plateau the following day, we saw many such houses, though clearly they are vanishing, as most towns only had a few left. They are still occupied, however, as satellite dishes in the yards attested.
Coffee beans and cinnamon began to appear along the roadside, carefully spread out to dry along with mats covered in rice, which is raked frequently to promote the process. We stopped to inquire about buying some of the 2 foot long cinnamon “sticks”, and were offered a kilo (2.2 lbs) for the equivalent of 70¢. That seemed a bit of cinnamon overkill, but when we asked to buy less, the woman tending it insisted on just giving us a fist-full. The asphalt road surface seems to provide the preferred drying spots, and traffic merely moves to the other side of the road to avoid crushing the crops.
Cinnamon drying


Ox carts transport potatoes to market


Market day, Kerinci Valley

 We passed through miles and miles of rice paddies, with men and women in woven cone hats working away, interspersed with small villages and a patchwork of vegetable fields. Volcanic soil is wonderfully fertile, and with a slightly cooler climate, these uplands yield a cornucopia of veggies. Fields draping the lowest flanks of the volcanic mountains are highly productive of tomatoes, peppers, corn, pole beans, etc.. We saw (and smelled) cabbages and potatoes being harvested every day. Most homes had tiny garden plots with cana lilies in orange, pink and red, and dahlias bursting out in a yellow-to-burgundy rainbow. Colorful village markets were overflowing with produce and people, and we sometimes took detours down narrow back lanes in order to pass through a busy town on market day.
On several occasions we saw a Black Eagle hunting low over the patchwork of fields. I shot this picture out the window of our van.
Black Eagle!

Smoking Kerinci crater, fields burning on the lower slopes

 As the valley broadened, vast tea plantations began to appear and, at last, we arrived at our “home stay” in the village of Kersik Tua, at 6000', at the foot of Gunung Kerinci. Here was a real, live, steaming volcano, though it wasn’t exactly belching forth billowing clouds of sulphur! Rather, there was a benign-looking wisp of cloud which draped from the top, the crater lip not visible from our front windows. At 12,500', Kerinci is Indonesia’s tallest volcano, and also one of its most active. While known for its frequent phreatic (steam-blast) eruptions, its last notable one was in 2004. However, when I asked our host about eruptions, it was clear that he was unconcerned. Above the peaceful fields, the increasing slope of the volcanic cone was festooned with beautiful forest, and we would soon be climbing into it.
Meanwhile, however, we got settled into our rooms in the home of the Subandi family. Each of us had our own Indonesian-style bathroom, though some, as mine, were equipped with a western toilet. The “mandi”, a large water reservoir, is the source for cold water for splash showers and for flushing. The dipper soon becomes a valuable instrument!
My very own mandi

Wonder what this is?
DG

 We were warmly welcomed with a fine home-cooked lunch, Nasi Padang style. A bottomless bowl of white rice was served with at least 6 dishes to choose from as toppers. Fried chicken, a veggie omelet, green beans, tiny new potatoes, sliced tomatoes and cucumbers were all fresh and delicious. Passion fruit which we had purchased en route was just the right dessert. Similar meals awaited us over the next few days, sometimes including whole, crispy yet moist wok-fried fish, beef rendang (with a thick, spicy tomato-based sauce), tempeh and other tofu products, tastily prepared. We did not go hungry!
Driving up through the tea plantation, we started hiking at the end of the dirt track, up through the veggie fields and into the rich, beautiful forest at last. It is like stepping into another world, moving into the cool, deep green lushness from the bright, sunny glare off the fields below. The trail through the lowest forest was a gentle upward walk, and with Pak Subandi and Susan’s keen eyes, we found our first, stunning Sumatran Trogon. This exotic beauty proved to be far easier to find and view than its Javan relative, and we enjoyed seeing its outrageous colors every day we were on the mountain.
Sumatran Trogon
DG

Shining Whistling-Thrush
DG

 Other endemics seen easily here included the Shining Whistling Thrush, which really does shine when the light is right!
Several species with far more widespread ranges are more easily seen on Kerinci than anywhere else I’ve traveled. Lesser and White-browed Shortwings (no, I never measured...), Eye-browed and Pygmy Wren-babblers were unusually common and confiding here.
Lesser Shortwing
DG


Pygmy Wren-Babbler (his call is bigger than he is!)
DG

A cool morning on Kerinci
DG

 Over the days we hiked up and down the trails, we saw a young male Salvadori’s Pheasant and Schneider’s Pitta, both shy and wary birds. I’ve always loved the species names which include a historic link to their discoverer’s or describer’s name. There is a current trend to change those common names to something supposedly more physically descriptive, which seems unfortunate to me. Count Adelardo Tommaso Paleotti Salvadori, for instance, in addition to having a name to conjure with, was a 19th c. Italian physician, educator, author and ornithologist with a colorful and productive career. There are birds named in his honor on several continents, and in addition to the pheasant, we were fortunate to see “his” nightjar too.

The hiking did get tougher as we went higher, and “steps” over logs, roots and boulders became more and more challenging. However, the greatest wealth of the birds seemed to be at the middle to lower sections of the trail, and we were happy to concentrate our efforts there. Some mornings were quite cool starting out at dawn, as the photo below attests!

Night birding gave us great views of the Rajah Scops Owl and Salvadori’s Nightjar, though the first real rain on our trip squelched our efforts to see a few other species known to be in the area. In fact, we were remarkably lucky with the weather throughout the trip, it was not as hot and humid as I’d anticipated, there were virtually no mosquitoes, and we only encountered rain on two occasions. In fact, there were undoubtedly times when a bit of rain might have served us well, as some birds are more likely to come out to forage along open trails during and following a good rain. This Sunda Forktail, for instance, was uncommon on Gunung Gede, where is was exceptionally dry, though later in the trip we saw 6 on a single morning, following a solid nighttime rain.
Sunda Forktail
DG

Letter W Waterfall, home of Waterfall Swiftlets


Kerinci crater with smoke plume

 A late afternoon trip to the nearby “Letter W” waterfall gave us great views of the Waterfall Swiftlet, which nests in the thick green vegetation clinging to the sheer vertical walls surrounding the torrential spill. We watched as they circled in against the backdrop of Kerinci’s distant summit crater, finally swooping into the mists below us and disappearing from our sight. We strained to see one actually fly through the falling water, but failing light did us in.
Our days were long here, sometimes more than 12 hours in the field, but sleep came easily each night, and post-lunch naps helped keep us going too. Pak Subandi accompanied us on most hikes, as was a great source of local knowledge of birds and animals.

How could I leave out the animals?! This cute Three-striped Ground Squirrel was delighted to munch on our offerings of crackers and trail mix.


Three-striped Ground Squirrel
DG

Mitred Leaf-Monkey: Leap of faith?
DG


Almost there…
DG


Time to relax
DG

 Mitred Leaf-monkeys showed a great deal of interest in us, and displayed their aerial acrobatics with abandon!
There were some nifty insects and lizards along the way as well. Colorful dragonflies and butterflies were common.
Blue Dragonfly


Paris Peacock
DG

"Flying" Draco with ribs extended to display gliding flaps

 This “flying” Draco actually glides by expanding and extending its rib cage. It’s easy to mistake the movement of one gliding to a nearby tree for a bird landing.
Reluctantly, we said farewell to the Subandis and moved further along the valley to the town from which we would travel to our last birding venue, the Tapan Road. Sungai Penuh is the largest town and administrative center in the Kerinci Valley. For me its most memorable feature was one of the world’s great roundabouts, the center of which is a 20' tall plaster Amorphophallus, festooned with blinking colored lights. That beats a stop-light all to pieces!

Sungai Penuh is not blessed with a wealth of hotels, and after finding our intended accommodations less than salubrious, we decamped, thanks to Susan’s fast footwork, to the Hotel Aroma (honest!). While a bit smoke-filled (every adult male in Indonesia seems to be hooked on cigarettes), it was not otherwise aromatic, though it was redolent with the often discordant, if fervent, blare of calls to prayer, which seemed to emanate from loudspeakers poised at every corner within 50 feet of our rooms. Never mind, we were up and out well before dawn, and the birding along the roughly paved, patched, pot-holed road was, as Susan had promised, positively racy!

This Long-tailed Broadbill is a species which had been missing in action on my previous trips to habitats where it should have been seen (such as parts of Thailand and Malaysia), so I was thrilled to catch up with a busily foraging group at last.


Long-tailed Broadbill
DG


Sumatran Treepie
DG

Sumatran Treepie
DG

 Several Sumatran endemics were easily seen here, including the rowdy Sumatran Treepie, and we had excellent scope views of both the Rhinoceros and Helmeted Hornbills .
Fire-tufted Barbets are common here, and put on a great show as they gulped down long green bean-shaped fruits. Their cicada-like calls were a constant background theme. We enjoyed box lunches on our two days here, only being forced back to town early on our final day by increasing showers.

And so our long journey home began, as we retraced the drive to Padang, overnighted there and then flew back to Jakarta. A last evening at the Sheraton, whose rooms seemed sheer luxury by now, and off we went to Singapore for an overnight and a very early morning connection to flights back home.


View from Changi Village over Singapore Straits


Orchids at Singapore Airport

Flowering tree


Ginger Flower


Garden Flowers

 So, what of the bad rap? From my experience, it’s just that! We had not a moment of anxiety about our safety and security, we felt not a single slight tremor, and the domestic ducks and chickens were healthy. The birds were there, accessible and see-able. While others might have gleaned a few more species by dint of sleep deprivation and more basic accommodations, we had a thoroughly enjoyable trip seeing well over 260 species of birds which I won’t be stumbling across in my back yard any time soon.

Bottom line: I can’t wait to return to Indonesia - Sulawesi, Halmahera, and Bali, here I come!