“Boo-tan?? Is that where the death march was? How do you spell it” These were the most frequent reactions to my plans for a 5 week birding trip which would be my first exposure to Asian avifauna. I’m not even sure how I first became aware of Bhutan as a birding destination, but it is often cited as the best birding venue in Asia, and as it would involve high altitudes and some camping, I thought I’d best tackle it sooner rather than later. I’m glad I did! he route I chose took me north from Atlanta to Toronto’s sprawling, modern, efficient airport, then east, up and over Greenland, Scandinavia, and down over Afghanistan & Pakistan, finally into Delhi after 15+ hours nonstop. Air Canada’s flight was full – when they called for families with small children to board first in Toronto, virtually half the plane pushed forward in a scrum, my first taste of India’s vast overpopulation, and I hadn’t even left N. America! I arrived in Delhi at 11PM, it was hot and I was weary, but the delightful, smiling ground agent (arranged by Victor Emanuel Nature Tours), Vinoud, scooped me up and whisked me off to Uppal’s Orchid Hotel. Even at that hour, the traffic was congested, the air choked with a smoky/exhaust laden pollution unmatched even in Central and South America. But the hotel was a peaceful haven of 5 star comfort, complete with a tall, sashed and turbaned doorman with up-curved toes to his golden shoes, and I had little trouble settling in to sleep after calling Bill to let him know I was, indeed, alive & well in India. I had planned a “regrouping” day in advance of the official start of my trip, and spent it in leisurely birding the hotel grounds (10 new species!) and napping, the last I was to do until about 5 weeks later. hat evening, I met my 7 traveling companions and guide for our adventure in Bhutan, but before setting off for that country we enjoyed a day of birding near Delhi, at Sultanpur Park and on the banks of the Yumna River. En route to and from I got my first daytime looks at greater Delhi, its congestion, poverty, noise and general filth once again unmatched by anything I’d seen before, except possibly The Gambia, but that was on a tiny scale in comparison. All aspects of the human condition were observable on all sides, probably the most shocking to me was the sight of men and women squatting in any available open, unfenced space - sewage disposal is the privilege of wealthier, less populated nations, and I soon learned that it is vitally important to watch where you put your feet while birding along the road. There were plenty of hump-necked cattle wandering even the busiest roads, apparently preferring the median (if there was one) for its value in providing stifling, traffic-generated breezes which would keep the flies off. Otherwise, they were generally seen grazing contentedly in the midst of huge piles of garbage. There being only the merest suggestion of traffic lanes, which in any case would have been totally undone by the natural hazards of cattle and beggars and donkey-carts and broken-down vehicles, we wove drunkenly in and out and across the width of the road in order to make forward progress, along with everyone else, of course. Once when stopped in traffic, we found a snake-charmer outside the windows of our small bus. While our VENT guide, Dion Hobcroft, warned us not to pay any attention to the man and his charges (Hooded Cobras which duly rose out of their shabby basket as he piped some reedy sort of tune), it was difficult not to be at least a bit intrigued. Dion, an Aussie who turned out to be a truly fine birding guide with a level approach to life and a great sense of humor, had been a reptile keeper at the Taronga Zoo in Sydney at one point in his career as a naturalist – needless to say, his stories kept us laughing throughout the trip, and his advice was well taken. Those snakes were doomed to a short and miserable life, and while there are plenty who hold that the only good snake is a dead snake, it was a pretty sordid sight. ne last dinner at the Orchid (a huge buffet of largely unknown Indian dishes, most of them far too spicy for me, alas, but with a few “western” offerings, and all non-vegetarian items clearly labeled as such), and off we went the next morning, leaving for the Delhi airport by 5:15 in order to get the coveted left-hand seats, outbound to Bhutan. We were almost the first in line at Druk Air, the Bhutanese national airline and the only means of flying into the country. What would this tiny airline experience be? As it turned out, amazingly comfortable, with a new Airbus 320 and obviously highly competent pilots, even a snack on the way to Kathmandu (a sprawling city with pollution thickly hanging in the air), and lunch en route from there to Paro (clear, clean air and bright, warm sunshine as we arrived). The views of the Himalayas were endless and awesome all along the route, providing horizon-to-horizon vistas, including Mt. Everest and Annapurna. here to begin on the subject of Bhutan? As a tiny, little traveled and “unspoiled” Bhuddist monarchy, it has been getting a lot of press lately. It seems to be the latest “in” place to go, and indeed, it is a truly spectacular country, almost 80% of which is forested, and populated sparsely by handsome, smiling people (I never once felt insecure there, there is hardly any crime, except for possibly smoking in public, which has been banned, and brings a penalty such as cleaning public toilets for two weeks – that might be a pretty good deterrent!). Even the airport is lovely, built in the architecture of the country which hits you even before you land, swooping in between the Himalayan foothills to straighten and land at the last moment – an amazing approach which took us past the typical 3-storied, white walled farmhouses, with beams, doors frames, windows and gable ends intricately painted. We were close enough to see all of that, and the tiny cultivated plots that sustained each one. Within minutes of leaving the Paro airport (the only airport in the country, period - no landing strips, no other aviation facilities at all), we saw a pair of Ibisbills poking the smooth rocks of a fast flowing river with their bright red, decurved bills. This is one of the rare birds for which people go to Bhutan, so we felt truly lucky.
	guess our weather luck wasn’t so great, however, as it turned out they were experiencing an unusually cold, late Spring, and after a few initial days of relative warmth, we ended up with some downright miserable weather in a few places, windy, misty/cloud swirl, chilling stuff, so that even lunch in the midst of snow flurries seemed better. The entire country is mountainous, save the extreme southern area bordering India (which we did not visit), with snow-capped mountains often in sight, which are considered the “foothills” of the Himalayas, ranging up to 25,000’. The higher mountains and passes are largely evergreen forests, sprinkled liberally with tree-sized rhododendrons, the earliest of which were starting to display their brilliant deep claret blooms. The dry valleys in between held the only towns, or sometimes small, untouched villages, with houses clustered amongst small, newly tilled fields, and perhaps a local golden topped temple. The range of habitat continued with lower elevation broad-leafed forests running down towards India, a warmer climate which felt wonderful and was also generally easier because of being at, say, 3,000’ rather than 10,000’. We stayed in a variety of small guest houses, government tourist hotels, and campsites, all of which were fairly Spartan by western standards, but which always provided clean bedding, and usually hot water and Western toilets, if not showers. ur camp staff of 8 produced most of our meals, especially breakfasts (western style, with great omelets, porridge, even hot chocolate) and lunches (soup, then rice with a variety of usually vegetarian dishes, of which Fiddlehead Ferns in a light cheese sauce was my favorite). We were up and off before dawn most mornings, to bird until breakfast, which our crew would have prepared in the field and set up at some scenic, roadside spot. They would then move on ahead with all our gear in their large, festively decorated truck, as we birded along the road for the remainder of the morning, again stopping to have lunch ready for our eventual arrival. The tourist hotels and guest houses featured dinner buffets, again largely vegetarian though usually including a mild curry of chicken (mostly bones), sometimes unidentified breaded fish (also mostly bones), or grisly pork (not many bones, but lots of fat). Other countries just don’t cut up meat the way we do, I think it’s just a matter of random chopping, and into the pot is all goes! As I’ve wondered before, I found myself asking what happens to the good stuff, who gets to eat that??! Desserts were always fruit, usually canned and not especially appetizing. The Bhutanese national dish is a stew of cheese, potatoes and super hot chilies, which I could not even consider tasting! The Bhutanese seem to eat chilies morning, noon and night. I didn’t go to Bhutan for the cuisine, but the sight of bright red and green chilies being sorted and dried in the sun outside a farmhouse was common and colorful. he birding venues were great, with one warm afternoon of birds filling a fruiting tree just below our path which will always be a special memory. The Blood Pheasants and Himalayan Monal were dazzling birds of the high passes, iridescent in the early morning sun. There were so many new families of birds unknown to me before, it was like meeting some distant and heretofore unknown branch of ones family, the Fulvettas, Minlas, Cutias, Myzornis, Niltavas and Mesias offered so many opportunities for life birds! The Scimitar Babblers were suitably exotic, the Tesias, known as “eggs on legs” were teasers indeed, hopping about amongst the darkest vine tangles and ferny depths. Huge Himalayan Griffon Vultures, Black Eagles and Mountain Hawk-eagles soared overhead, perhaps searching for the lemming-like, rock-dwelling Pika as a snack. There were some real avian rarities too, such as the White-bellied Heron, a very shy bird disturbed easily by even the mildest human impact, and thus reduced to perhaps 200 birds in the world, total. Even the mammals were cool, especially the Hodgson’s Giant Flying Squirrel (about 20” square when “flying”, with its long tail streaming out behind), which sailed over our heads and 100 yds. across our campground one morning at dawn – who wouldn’t have oohed and aahed at that?! There were also Giant Pied Squirrels and mating Himalayan Palm Civets, plus all three Langurs (Common, Golden & Capped, a long-tailed monkey species straight out of Dr. Seuss), some with peachy-fuzzed babies clutched to their chests. They always managed to look both surprised and indignant, thus quite comical. he camping was difficult especially at first, as our first night was near freezing, and in the midst of a Yak pasture (there’s not much level ground in Bhutan!), though being that high up and early, we did get to see three species of Rosefinch and a few other goodies which the later VENT trip (which left for Bhutan a month after we did) likely will have missed. I rapidly discovered that sleeping in 6 layers is not such a terrible thing, and putting in contacts at 30 degrees, with a flashlight in my mouth, was indeed possible. At lower elevations I even managed a warm shower, though the mere thought of that at higher elevations was too chilling. My tent was huge, my camp cot comfy and made up every day with plenty of blankets and even a duvet. It was, in fact, more comfortable than the hotel & guest house beds, which seemed to consist of a 2 inch “mattress” on top of wooden slats. The pillows throughout were much too firm and fully packed – my down vest in my own pillowcase (I felt so clever to have brought that!) served far better. Still, the camp crew did everything possible to make our stay comfortable. The sanitation standards were perhaps best not too closely inspected, yet no one got sick, and by Asian standards, we were well looked after. Campsites were interesting, some with snow-capped mountains seeming to reach our level, one in the midst of a field of wild marijuana (handy for laying out laundry to dry in the sun!). Yak patties and cow pies do provide challenging natural hazards, but I managed, carefully… There was always a beautiful rhodo, Indian Magnolia or primrose to consider, after all, and often a pristine, roaring river nearby. n addition to the birds and mammals the culture of Bhutan is fascinating and evident throughout the country. The national dress is required by law when in public, and for school children, who walk miles to and from their (usually new) schools, always ready to wave and with broad smiles & laughter, they have to be some of the cutest kids I’ve ever seen. The girls and women wear a “kira”, made from a long piece of hand woven fabric which is somehow wound into a bodice with a slim, long skirt worn with a short jacket and colorful, broad cuffs, while the boys and men wear a “gho”, which is also a large and lengthy piece of fabric, belted and wrapped in a complicated way which produces a long sort of coat, with crisp white cuffs and with which knee socks and, often, sneakers are worn. For very cold weather, undergarments are allowed. The most striking architecture is found in the Dzongs (“zongs”), which were largely built in the 17th century as religious fortresses, thus are sited in strategic and beautiful positions, such as the Punakha Dzong, which is at the confluence of two rushing rivers. We were given a tour of this massive structure, which dwarfs everything else in the town, and houses somewhere between 500 and 1,000 monks, as well as government administrative offices. Despite the latter, however, the religious art (the only art in Bhutan) in the form of murals, mandalas, prayer wheels, even a calendar, is intricate, colorful and would require a lifetime of study to fully comprehend. Admission to the inner temple, with its wooden floors (we were asked to remove our shoes and leave all cameras outside), incense, statues (including an immense golden Bhudda) and silk hangings was a highlight of our trip. Another came when we stumbled across a colorful procession complete with trumpeters leading a saffron robed high priest under a brilliant umbrella, which we were told was an annual ceremony to bless the homes in the small village.
	hroughout the country, we were accompanied by Karma Tshering, a very handsome, kind and knowledgeable Bhutanese guide who was also a great birder. He speaks 7 languages, having concentrated in Classical Tibetan Studies, and was once a news reader for the Bhutanese national radio. Our driver, Songey, also Bhutanese with a keen eye for roadside birds, handled our Toyota 20-seat “Coaster” bus so well that I was never once apprehensive about our safety, despite the fact that the national “highway”, all 1.5 lanes of it, winds up, down and along contours, through truly precipitous mountains, sometimes snowy passes, and many slide-prone areas. The road is sometimes marked with a dashed center line, surely the work of an optimist, it seems to me! There is very little traffic, the preferred local mode of transport being an ingenious combo of roto-tiller cum cart, though only for the most well-to-do farmers. It occurred to me more than once that the only road we could see in the distance was ours, and I couldn’t be sure if we had already been there or were headed there, so tortuous was the route! Though paved for all of the East-West distance we traveled (about ¾ of the 200 mi. width of the landlocked kingdom), there is a nationwide program of road improvement, mostly widening, being carried on, executed almost entirely by imported Nepalese/Indian laborers. Almost all of the road-improvement work is done with hand labor. The resulting quagmires in some of the higher passes (10,000-14,000’) were barely negotiable. OSHA would have had a field day with the conditions, as the workers dealt with belching roadside fires and boiling tar barrels with zero protective clothing, either in sandals or bare feet! Yet, even these men and women (most of whom were occupied in making small rocks out of bigger ones, with their children standing around them along the roadsides) would smile and wave, as they were, in their eyes, well employed with such jobs. Meanwhile, in countless farm fields and riverside beauty spots, chortens and stupas (small, simple, white-washed, often slate-roofed structures) stood as silent witnesses to the teachings and treasures of Tantric Bhuddism. Local deities might have been appeased by their construction and dedication, often there were incense burning structures, into which fresh pine bows might be placed. Forests of tall, narrow prayer flags sprout on riverbanks and mountainsides, water-turned prayer wheels sit astride many smaller streams. However, at no point were we subjected to any preaching or encouragement to consider Bhuddism as a religion we should adopt. Rather than a religion, it is a way of life, as exemplified, for instance, by the respect for all life forms. While our camp staff might shoo away any stray dogs, they did not hesitate to feed them the scraps after we finished, and on one warm day a dog was given a bath in the river, just to make it feel better. There are very few fenced pastures beyond the tiny villages, so all livestock, primarily cows with some goats, wanders or is gently attended by lone herders, all over the hills, small open meadows and roadsides. Cattle and goats are kept for dairy products, never butchered for consumption. However, meat is available from India and as we saw strips of beef drying on a few roofs, it is clear that if an animal dies naturally, meat will be consumed. Yaks are kept at higher elevations, for use as pack animals, for their fur and for dairy. herever we went we all noted the genuine respect and love which the people show for their king. His Majesty, King Jigme Dorji Wangchuck, came to power in 1974, and has since ruled his county with great wisdom and care for its people and culture. As Bhutan has two notoriously kingdom-absorbing neighbors, India and China, this is not an easy task. The country was first opened to modern tourism in the year of the King’s coronation, with a quota of only 200 visitors, which has since grown to approximately 8,000 per year. All tourists are accompanied by a Bhutanese guide and can visit only those areas officially open to visitors, who pay a set fee per day which covers all accommodations, food, guide and transport, no matter what the grade of any of these. While this sounds quite restrictive, it is, in fact, a means of preserving the country from the fate of nearby Nepal, which long ago became a hippy haven, known for drugs, trash and pollution of some of its most scenic areas. In fact the access to dzongs and border areas has been expanded considerably lately, and the king himself is pushing through a new constitution which will greatly democratize the country, in spite of the people’s reluctance to change their monarchy. Bhutan’s primary export is hydro-generated energy, which development is underwritten by India and is amazingly non-intrusive to the scenic glories of the Bhutanese countryside, as most generation comes from “mini-hydro” projects, not massive dams. Though by Western standards the majority of the people live in rural poverty on their tiny, subsistence farms (an estimated 80% of the population lives more than an hour from the road, perhaps 50% more than one day of walking from a drivable road), there is still an air of happy prosperity about the countryside. Education and health services have been extended and improved, and the rich soil of the valleys is well planted with rice, potatoes, and, of course, chilies. ur 19 days in Bhutan were very productive in terms of birds and animals, quite fascinating in terms of culture and religion, and most rewarding for the interactions with the people. I will watch with great interest as Bhutan moves further forward into the 20th century – it may be a while before they get to the 21st, but that’s OK! ack in India, I reveled in a day of R&R at the Orchid Hotel, and repacked for our onward trip to Assam. The 4 of us continuing on from the Bhutan tour had planned a “day trip” to see the Taj Mahal, but as it transpired, this would have been roughly a 16 hour day. We all voted instead to do some more birding outside of Delhi, at a little known wetland area called Bindivas. For this trip, we left by air-conditioned van at 4AM, and as the driver and his 2 assistants (1 to interpret, one to get directions) were from Agra, it took about 3 hours to get to our destination. It was worth it, however, as we added many new birds to our lists, including the pink-highlighted Painted Stork and stately Sarus Crane. While it was hot, we were at least more in the countryside and out of smelly, polluted, stifling Delhi, a city which only a mother could love. We got back to the hotel by 2PM, and had a further restful afternoon, before meeting our new birding companions and second leader for the trip to Assam, David Bishop. A relatively leisurely departure the next morning got us to the domestic airport in time for a very pleasant, business class Jet Airways flight to Guahati, the capital of the NE Indian state of Assam. The town itself was a sort of mini-version of Delhi, but with more ox, horse, donkey and even camel-drawn vehicles. What was amazing, however, was that the globally threatened Greater Adjutant Stork could be seen wheeling above the horizon just minutes from the airport. t was a long drive NE to Kaziranga National Park, where we arrived at Wild Grass Resort well after dark, but I awakened eagerly at 4AM the next day in order to catch an elephant ride into the tall grasslands. This was really my first proper look at an Asian Elephant, and they are, indeed, much smaller than their African relatives, and more biddable too, as was obvious from the kneeling posture necessary for the mahouts to lay on their backs the padding and gear necessary to carry 2 or 3 passengers. We rode astride the animal, and I especially enjoyed the smooth gait and great visibility from my perch. Unfortunately, the rains had arrived early in Assam, and while this meant generally cooler temperatures due to cloudy skies, it also resulted in several deluges, one of which struck not long after we set off on our hour-long safari. Though we didn’t see the Bengal Florican (a striking black and white bustard) which was supposed to be easier to spot from elephant back, we did see an Indian One-horned Rhino face to face (thankfully, neither the elephant nor the rhino seemed concerned by their sudden meeting in the dense, towering grasses), and I found it almost surreal to see the others in our group, as were we, riding high with umbrellas in the air and binoculars at the ready. ur 4 nights at Kaziranga allowed us to visit two basic habitats, the grassy plains leading to the “Mighty” Brahmaputra River, and the tea plantations, which were especially lovely, cool & green beneath widely spaced shade trees, with women in colorful dress picking tender leaves and calling to one another. In addition to the wild elephants and tons of rhinos, there are also wild Water Buffalo, one of only three non-domesticated/non-hybrid populations left in Asia. We also saw Barasinga (swamp) and Hog-nose Deer, Wild Boar, Assamese Macaques (a short-tailed monkey which looks a bit like a baboon) and Hoolock’s Gibbon, one of the lesser apes. We traveled by open jeeps on often mucky roads, one day heading to a little visited area of the park in which the recently re-discovered Black-throated Parrotbills thrive, as well as the Bengal Florican. The park is a sort of island in the midst of a sea of agricultural land, the vast fields necessary to feed India’s huge population. The flimsy lean-tos and sheds in which people lived along with their animals seemed to emphasize the poverty. Here the poverty seemed to go straight to the bone, despite the smiles of the ragged children along the way. The entire area is subject to severe flooding as the Brahmaputra escapes its banks during the monsoon season. Being there brought a new dimension to remembered news clips of desperate people and animals in rising, rushing water. further 3 nights at Nameri Tiger Reserve’s tented eco-camp proved productive once again, as we crossed the smaller, though still substantial Bharali River (with able boatmen at the tiller and oar of our long, low-slung wooden boat) and entered a more jungle-like forested area at the edge of the foothills. The weather now was sunny and humid, well into the 90’s at mid-afternoon, so I was happy to take advantage of a brief siesta time each day, the first real opportunity of the trip (other than in Delhi) to add to my nightly 6 hours of sleep. It was great birding and quite comfortable in terms of accommodations, with permanent tents on cement slabs, each with a bathroom under thatch just out the back tent zip. The staff at Nameri was especially anxious to be helpful, and I was even able to get a call through to Bill from here. After 5 weeks on the road, I was ready to head home, and so my long journey back began at 4AM on the 13th of April, as we made the long drive back to Guahati for our flight to Delhi. There was just time there for a shower and change of clothes, quick goodbyes, and off we went to the airport. Though I had been dreading the chaos there, our friend Vinoud once again saw us through the obstacle course and I never even had to wait in line! I finally arrived back home after about 46 hours of travel, tired but oh so happy to be back to the fresh, clear, Springtime air of Highlands, and to my dear Bill and Ditto too! y first experience of Asia (beyond a brief look at Hokkaido, Japan) was pretty overwhelming. No narrative can ever sufficiently portray the constant impact of new and different sights, sounds, smells and cultures. It is simply a totally different world from ours, and one in which I am very grateful not to be living, but which I hope to revisit, as it is fascinating in all its aspects. Being back home makes me appreciate anew the simple things – clean air and water, safe food and solid housing – all of which I often take for granted, I must confess. While travel conditions are not ideal over there, I have still barely experienced India, and while there is much there to which I hope never to get any closer, there are still a lot of birds and animals to be seen, so perhaps one day I will go back. I could happily return to Bhutan, though I might opt for a bit later timing next time!