Thailand: Edwin's Rescue Centre

Edwin Wiek is the founder of Wildlife Friends Foundation Thailand, which operates (among other things) an animal rescue centre in the western part of the country, near Kaeng Krachan National Park.  I first visited the centre over a weekend break during the 2004 meeting of the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora (CITES).  When Thailand hosted another CITES Conference in 2013 I was hoping to go again.  When Edwin offered another weekend outing for our conservation colleagues, for March 9th and 10th 2013, Eileen (back from her trip to Israel) and I signed up.

We had, as I expected, a very convivial weekend.  The bearded gentleman facing me is my old pal (and well-known naturalist and conservationist) Ian Redmond, Chief Consultant for the UNEP Great Apes Survival Project (GRASP), and next to me (back to the camera) is Mark Jones, Executive Director of Humane Socity International/UK.

Here's our gang on a tour of the premises.  In the foreground are Sam Wasser of the University of Washington, the world's leading authority on genetic identification of ivory (a tool of major importance in the fight against poaching), and another old pal, Maria Elena Sánchez (in front of Ian).  Maria Elena and her husband Juan Carlos Cantu (behind her, in hat and moustache) are a redoubtable team of conservationists, responsible for convincing the government of Mexico to ban trapping of wild parrots.  The ban has made a real difference to these beleaguered birds.

At the centre of the centre, so to speak, are Asian Elephants (Elephas maximus), former work animals rescued from dangerous and unhealthy conditions on the streets of Bangkok and other Thai cities.

WFFT operates an innovative programme that allows overseas volunteers to spend working holidays helping to care for its elephants (and other animals); volunteering fees go to help fund the centre's work.  So if what these women are doing looks interesting, exciting or (I hope) inspiring, you can check out the WFFT site for a different kind of vacation in Thailand.

Primates are another major focus of the centre's work.  Among its rescued animals are Indochinese Silvered Langurs (Trachypithecus germaini), now regarded as a separate species from the more southerly Silvered Langur (T. cristatus) that we see in Malaysia.

The Dusky Langur (Trachypithecus obscurus), here at the northern end of its range, is a species I have seen frequently in Malaysia.

Babies like this one are frequent targets for the pet trade (probably the mother was shot to get it).

The Northern Pig-tailed Macaque (Macaca leonina) is another Thai monkey once included with a Malaysian species, the Southern Pig-tailed Macaque (M. nemestrina).  According to the IUCN Red List, "In Thailand, the males of this species are exploited for picking coconuts by the industry. Sometimes, a well-trained macaque is sold for 1,000USD. They are also in demand by resorts for show".

Gibbons are at risk everywhere throughout their range, both from loss of their forest habitat and capture for illegal trade.  The Pileated Gibbon (Hylobates pileatus) from eastern Thailand is classified as Endangered by IUCN.  This is a female (males are mostly black); the species takes its name from her black cap.

The more widespread (but still Endangered) White-handed Gibbon (Hylobates lar) is the gibbon species you might find in the wild in the remaining forests near the rescue centre.  This, too, is a female.

Edwin has a personal relationship with his gibbons, as the animals themselves demonstrate.

Baby gibbons, the victims of their own cuteness, are a prime target for poachers.  A few of the lucky ones end up at the centre.  This one was a bundle of energy, and getting him to hold still for a picture was not easy (I could say the same about my own grandchildren, of course).

The centre has rescued a number of other large mammals, including several bears.  Here, Mark Jones and a Sun Bear (Helarctos malayanus) investigate each other.

The Fishing Cat (Prionailurus viverrinus) is a small, but stocky and powerful, predator that has declined significantly in recent years as its preferred wetland habitat has continued to disappear.  It, too, is listed as Endangered, and may be nearing extirpation in Thailand.

The Sambar (Rusa unicolor) is the largest of Thailand's six species of deer.  One of the others, the endemic Schomburgk's Deer (Rucervus schomburgki), is unfortunately past saving.  It was only known for certain from the central swamplands of the country, where the last known animals disappeared in the 1930s.

Ian Redmond and I were particularly excited by this animal, the only one of its kind in the centre.  It is a Chinese Serow (Capricornis milneedwardsii) [or, if you follow the new Handbook of the Mammals of the World, an Indochinese Serow (C. maritimus)], one of the "goat-antelopes" related to, among other things, muskoxen.  Serows are animals of steep mountain forests and cliffsides, and neither of us had seen one alive before (it seemed quite interested in us, too).  Notice the peculiarly long ears and the shaggy white mane.

The animals in the centre are by no means all rescued victims.  Our walk around the cages, and through the dry woodland around the centre, turned up some wild animals, too.

Grey-bellied Squirrels (Callosciurus caniceps) came down for handouts.

This Western (or Burmese, or Himalayan) Striped Squirrel (Tamiops mcclellandi) preferred to stay in the treetops.

I found this Asian Flat-tailed House Gecko (Hemidactylus platyurus) on the trunk  of a tree in the middle of the centre, doing its best to look like a piece of bark.

There weren't a lot of birds about, but I did find a family party of Red Junglefowl (Gallus gallus), ancestors of the domestic chicken, working their way through the undergrowth.

The Green-billed Malkoha (Phaenicophaeus tristis) is not the only malkoha species in Thailand, but it is by far the most common and widespread.  For non-southeast Asian birders, malkohas are long-tailed, non-parasitic cuckoos.

My colleagues were a bit bemused by my excitement over this rather plain little bird, one of a quartet of Forest Wagtails (Dendronanthus indicus).  Forest Wagtails are supposedly common winter visitors over much of southeast Asia, but this was only the second time I had seen them.  They are odd birds, quite unlike other wagtails (for one thing, they don't wag their tails up and down, but pivot their entire bodies from side to side, a very odd-looking behaviour).

And, of course, besides the smaller vertebrates there were insects: here is a Common Lime Butterfly (Papilio demoleus demoleus), in active pursuit of nectar.

This strange-looking growth caught everyone's attention.  It may look like some weird sort of moss, but it is actually a cluster of planthopper nymphs, members of the family Flatidae.  Each nymph sports a set of waxy filaments that help camouflage their owner, repel water, and, perhaps, give attacking birds a mouthful of wax for their pains.

We were probably as fascinated by these little creatures as by any of the larger animals in the centre; here, Geert Drieman (formerly of Greenpeace Netherlands) peers at one sitting on Ian's finger.

Proof, if any was needed, that charismatic minifauna can be as exciting as charismatic megafauna.  The Little Five, anyone?

West Malaysia: Genting Without Gambling

The Genting Highlands outside of Kuala Lumpur are best known for their casino complex, but - as I learned on my last visit to the area in 2010 - they have a lot to offer a non-gambling naturalist as well.

If nothing else, the view is probably the nicest in the area (and the cool highland air is a pleasure, too).

Anyway, after seeing Eileen off on her trip to Israel I still had a day to spare before I had to fly to Bangkok, so when my birding pal Bing Lim offered to take me up for a morning in the highlands I was delighted at the chance.  Besides, on my last visit I had failed to come up with a single presentable bird photograph, and I intended, this time, to remedy that.  So, on February 26, 2013, off we drove to the highest point of the Genting road, where it ends at a military weather station.

Even without birds, the road up to the station takes you through some fascinating country.  The roadside vegetation is very different indeed from the tropical plant life of lower elevations.

Not all of it, though, belongs here.  Thanks to some helpful comments to my last Genting post, I now know that these lovely little red flowers scrambling over the bank are actually Cuphaea ignea, the Cigar Plant, a garden escapee originally native to Mexico (and a member of the Lythraceae, the loosestrife family).  

As for some of the other roadside plants - well, my botanical ignorance is showing again… a Dianella, perhaps, based on comments on my earlier post?

This, though, is a fairly easy one: Bamboo Orchid (Arundina graminifolia), a common roadside plant throughout the highlands.

I found this pretty little moth on the wall of one of the station buildings.  It appears to be a species of Abraxas, a large genus of looper moths in the family Geometridae.

On the open ground around the station we found a few Olive-backed Pipits (Anthus hodgsoni), winter visitors in Malaysia.

We also found a pair of Black-throated Sunbirds (Aethopyga saturata), but the strikingly-coloured male proved, alas, skittish.  I had to settle for this poor shot of the female.

Below the weather station is a misty, bedraggled and almost elfin forest, whose birds are often merely voices behind a dense wall of vegetation.

There are some highly attractive flowers to be seen (again, unidentified by me - help from readers would be appreciated). [Thanks to Sean L, who identified this as an orchid of the genus Spathoglottis - see his comment below.  I didn't even spot it as an orchid!]

I don't know what this is, either.  I like the look of it, though.

There are three species of pitcher plants (plus hybrids) here, too - this is the common one, Nepenthes sanguinea.

This time around, the mountain forest birds decided to be cooperative - starting with the subtly-beautiful Chestnut-tailed (or Red-tailed, or Bar-throated) Minla (Chrysominla strigula).

Less colorful, but sleekly handsome anyway: a Javan Cuckooshrike (Coracina javensis).

A sure sign that you are in the high country: a Mountain Leaf-warbler (Phylloscopus trivirgatus), a bird that doesn't usually descend below 1300 m above sea level.

Calling this bird a Mountain Tailorbird (Phyllergates cumulates) is, in a way, only half right: it certainly is a bird of the mountains, ranging from about 1050-2000 m in Peninsular Malaysia, but it isn't a tailorbird.  Not only does it not build its nest among leaves that it stitches together, like "real" tailorbirds, but DNA studies show that it isn't even in the same family as the others.  instead, it is closest to the bush-warblers, in the newly-erected family Cettiidae.

Here is the bird (and photo) of the day.  On my last trip the loud musical songs of the Lesser Shortwing (Brachypteryx leucophrys) seemed to be everywhere, but of the bird itself - a genuine skulker - I could catch not a glimpse.  This time the songs were there again - there must be lots of these birds in the high country - and I was determined to see one.  OK, I cheated; I played a tape (judiciously!).  My reward was this splendid male (yes, he's annoyed - you can tell, I think, by his fluffed-out white eyebrows, which are normally concealed. or almost so).  The blue colour brands this as a typical member of the southern race wrayi; further north, males are mostly brown.

A female shorting  presumably his mate, looked in too, but stayed deeper in the recesses of the undergrowth. 

From the top of the weather station road we moved down to the forest around the Awana Resort, now identified as an Important Bird Area by Birdlife International.

Here the forest is less windswept, warmer and more open.

Middle- and lower-elevation animals start to show up, too.  We found this flying dragon (Draco sp. - I don't know which one) doing its typical imitation of a dead twig (with legs) on the side of a tree trunk.

Coming down another trunk for a look at us: a Grey-bellied Squirrel (Callosciurus caniceps concolor).

The bird life is rather different too: no minlas or shortwings, but a face-off between two male Orange-bellied Leafbirds (Chloropsis hardwickii).

We were searching for one bird in particular, and found it (or rather, a pair of them): the Silver-breasted Broadbill (Serilophus lunatus).  Though not the most colourful of its family, I think it is one of the loveliest.  This is a male.

This may be one of the relatively few birds in which the female, at least in some populations, is the more attractive sex, its throat and breast set off from each other by a thin silvery-white line.  This band is particularly prominent in the Malaysian race rothschildi.

In Malaysia, and further south in Sumatra, the Silver-breasted is a highland bird, or at least (in Malaysia) of middle elevations from 600-1200 m.  I first saw this species in Vietnam, where it is a lowland bird; the farther south you go in its extensive range, the higher up the birds live.

They are, at any elevation, very nice birds, and they provided a lovely end to end a most gratifying morning.