Despite the obvious physical benefits (cleaning of feathers, removal of parasites, etc.), allopreening among birds may serve to strengthen social bonds within a community. This video features two Jungle Babblers (Turdoides striata). For an interesting perspective on the evolution of allopreening behavior, check out “The Handicap Principle”, by Israeli sociobiologist Amotz Zahavi.
When: November 2009
Where: Karnataka, India
In May 2009, our team of 4 radical cyclist-birders pedaled our way to victory at the 26th Annual World Series of Birding, in Cape May, NJ. Sponsored by KOWA optics, Ridin’ Birdy claimed the coveted 1st Annual Carbon Footprint Cup, by locating and identifying 134 species of bird within a single 24-hour period without the use of motorized vehicles. Along the way, we were priveleged to be followed by a television crew, for an episode of “Birding Adventures”, a avi-centric program hosted by James Currie. The program was subsequently aired several times throughout the south-east United States.
For the full report of our 24-hour birding blitz, check out my WSB blog post.
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Turdoides subrufus - Indian Rufous Babbler
Babblers! These perky robin-sized birds of the family Timaliidae are among my favorites. Especially near and dear to my heart are the Turdoides babblers, often found cruising around their habitats in tight-knit family groups, digging through the dirt and trying to scratch up a grub or two. Babblers have a ridiculous amount of personality; focus your attention on a group for more than a minute and you’re likely to see some fascinating social dynamics at play.
Of course, there is a reason for my attraction to these often-drab, brownish birds. I’ve spent more time watching babblers than most species. In 2005, I spent 3.5 months studying social behavior in Turdoides squamiceps, the Arabian Babbler, in the Negev desert of southern Israel. I was working at the time with well-known sociobiologist Amotz Zahavi, a provocative and (in my opinion) quite brilliant evolutionary theorist. His “Handicap Principle” theory, first published in 1975, threw the field of Biology on its head – and caused a headache that the sciences have still not quite recovered from. So it was a strange bit of coincidence then, to see the name Amotz Zahavi on an advertisement for a lecture series at the Indian Institute of Science in Bangalore. The possibility of seeing Amotz again was too good to pass up, so Erin and I hopped a 7-hour bus, from the jungle to the big city, for the event.
The lecture was classic Zahavi: “The Handicap Principle: A Key Element in Communication and its Effects on the Human Body and Behavior”. Rather than sum up the lecture here, I might as well direct you to the Wikipedia article on the Handicap Principle. Better yet, pick up a copy of the book – well worth the read, even for non-science-minded folks. There is so much that we can learn about humanity by examining non-human systems. Amotz’s theories offer a unique perspective on evolutionary history, one that has the potential to change the way we view ourselves and our world. Check it out!
It was great to see Amotz again - you might say that it gave me some closure to reconnect with him. Amotz was born in 1928 - he’s no longer a fledgling - so I realized that this was likely my last opportunity to talk with him. Erin and I arrived for the lecture about 45 minutes early and were able to chat with Amotz for awhile before the event. Though Amotz and I have not always seen eye-to-eye, seeing him again was like visiting an old friend. I left the lecture feeling quite light, having reconnected with a friend and mentor.
Amotz with the Arabian Babblers, Turdoides squamiceps, in the Neveg, Israel.
So one week later, one of our staffers – Ravi – comes to me with a bird in his hand. A Babbler! The Rufous Babbler to be exact, Turdoides subrufus. This bird had apparently become trapped in a window screen. My obsession with wildlife is well-known among everyone on the farm, and so people do what they can to track me down when something like this comes along. Ravi found me and turned the bird over, giving me the opportunity to hold it in my hands and examine it more closely.
Here, thousands of miles away, I am holding a Turdoides babbler in my hands. It reminds me so much of the Arabian variety, but is also incredibly unique. The most notable difference is the rich rufous color of its breast – the trait for which this bird is named. This bird is one of the few endemic species of the Western Ghats range, and thus a particularly exciting catch – nowhere on Earth can one encounter Turdoides subrufus but in the Western Ghats mountain range. Thanks to Amotz and Ravi both!
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Click on the “Streampad” - the black bar on the bottom of the screen - to open up the music player!
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I recently decided to add my own spark to an old painting. My friend Elody Gyekis painted the original tree - I added the raven and some shadows/highlights. The painting is a combination of acrylic and oil paints on the inside of my banjo resonator.
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Circumnavigating a Tibetan monastery (clockwise of course!) is a wonderful experience. I walked slowly, letting my hands glide from one prayer wheel to the next, all the while watching an elderly Tibetan woman in front of me doing the same. The feeling of the spinning wheels is simultaneously soothing and energizing; they whirl so quickly while I slowly float along the path. This monastery is in a small town called Kushalnagar, at the base of the Western Ghats mountain range in Karnataka. The hills are subdued here, and fields of corn and tobacco stretch out across the landscape.
It is a strange place to find a bunch of Tibetans. Being forced into exile is hard to imagine for most people, especially the dramatic shift from highest-altitude alpine landscape to the tropics. But here they are, by the grace of the Indian government, which gave them some land on which to live – a refugee settlement in southern India. 
There are about 20,000 Tibetans living here, and many of the men have populated 5 monasteries, where they continue their traditions of Buddhist meditation and prayer. It is a peaceful place, and wildly different than the normal south Indian atmosphere. Tibetan words replace the Kannada script on street signs – even signs to discourage cars from honking, which would disrupt the peace, just about opposite from your typical Indian-town cacophony. The monks seem to glide through the streets in their red-and-yellow robes. Likewise, the town is remarkably clean for an Indian town - the Tibetans seem to take some pride in maintaining a sense of serenity here, and it shows. The occasional smells of incense and spices waft through the air as we walk, exploring the narrow streets and large empty courtyards, which are scattered throughout the town.
We visit the Golden Temple and the Sera monastery and university, a place where monks study the ancient Buddhist texts and traditions. The Dalai Lama visits here just about every year, to uplift the spirits of the refugees and give his blessings. The area around the temples is gorgeous, with big leafy trees dotting serene gardens. In the distance you can just make out the sound of a couple hundred monks chanting, whilst the pure tones of singing bowls hover in the energized air.
We sit for tea – about 3 or 4 times – a respite that is commonplace in Kushalnagar and India as a whole. The café owner has a small TV and excellent stereo system, which shows some over-the-top Tibetan music videos. The videos seem to be concerned with one thing – exile. You will see a Tibetan singer on the top of the world, with the wind rushing through his robes in a vast Himalayan landscape, singing beautiful and melancholy melodies, with interspersed footage of the Dalai Lama. The depth of sadness could be hard to comprehend fully – but I try to empathize. The pain of having your culture ravaged, being forced to leave your home and family to live thousands of miles away – knowing that you will likely never see those mountains again in your life – even in my brief experience with these people, that feeling is present now and I won’t forget it. Just then, a small group of Tibetan boys rushes past in their red-and-yellow robes, giggling to each other about who knows what. One of them has a hoop, which he is gleefully rolling along the stone courtyard - their laughter releases the pressure of the moment and I smile, so grateful for this experience.
For more stories from India - check out my girlfriend Erin’s blog: erininthehills.blogspot.com
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Another unknown Philautus species. Perhaps P. chromasynchysi?
Over millions of years, the hilly topography of this region has led to widespread speciation of frogs - especially tree-frogs of the genus Philautus. This genus is particularly confusing because there is a great deal of polymorphic variation in patterns and colors - as well as the fact that each frog is capable of metachrosis (color changing in real time!). According to the surveys done by the leading Philautus expert (a scientist named Biju, who has now described over 100 new species), there are 4 species of Philautus which live in our local region - outside the town of Madikeri. Two of these species were just described in February 2009 - they are very new and nobody knows much about them beyond the original descriptions published by Biju.
The crazy part is that Anurag and I have already found at least 6 species living here - and now we’re trying to figure out where these frogs fit in the taxonomy. Are they a separate population of another Philautus species which lives ~100km south of here? Are they entirely new to science and require a description? It’s best not to jump the gun, so I’m busy doing incredibly meticulous measurements to find out. We are planning to gather some DNA samples as well, which we will send to a geneticist friend in Delhi for analysis.
Philautus wynaadensis
Check out these pictures of one of our unknown frogs. It seems to be closest to P. ponmundi, a species first described this past February, from about 100km south of here. But it has less extensive webbing on the feet than Biju’s description and measurements of P. ponmundi - an important trait for a tree-frog. This warrants some further investigation. Like other members of the tree-frog family Rhacophoridae, to which Philautus belongs, our unknown frog exhibits a fine ability to change its appearance according to its immediate surroundings. Depending on the temperature, humidity, light levels, etc., it can turn from a more-or-less uniform sandy brown into a cryptic pattern with high contrast markings.
This past week was the Dasara holiday, when Hindus all over celebrate, among other things, the conclusion of the Ramayana mythology. Here in South India, it is the biggest holiday of the year. The town of Madikeri went ballistic with crazy lights all over and semi-creepy floats depicting all sorts of monsters, gods and goddesses from Hindu mythology. We took a drive into town last night for the celebration. Of the thousands of people, we seemed to be the only westerners in town - this brings a few stares, but many more smiles. We circum-navigated the town in its entirety, walking from one large blinking building to another, stopping periodically to sip some sweet chai. The party went on late into the night - though we made it back to the rainforest retreat by 1am. It seems like Indian men may not have that many opportunities for freaking out, dancing and acting generally crazy (I saw no women in this state), so Dasara is a welcome treat to witness.
At the farm, things got very busy this weekend. We operate an eco-tourism facility, of which I act as manager/guide. I run around and enforce some quality-control, interact with the guests and make sure they’re happy, lead them on some early-morning birding adventures etc. Between my guesthouse duties and the research projects (more later on that), my hours are kept quite busy. This past weekend, we had about 20 guests each night; we house them in 6 separate guesthouses and 2 tents. About half of the guests are Indian, and the other half are westerners, mostly Europeans. Inevitably, we end up meeting all sorts of fascinating characters – like Saresh from Bangalore who has spent 30 years in the non-profit sector fighting public corruption, or Swapnil from Pune (near Mumbai), an eccentric birdwatcher who runs a private eco-tourism company, leading trips to exotic locales in South Africa and Sri Lanka. In only 3 weeks, we have made so many good contacts throughout India – some of which we will end up meeting up with again in our travels here.
This weekend, we took the guests on a couple treks – one to the top of the Kaloor ridge, which offers wonderful views of the nearby valleys. The other was to too-crowded Abby Falls, which at one time must have been quite beautiful. Now it’s just flooded with people, trash, vendors, etc.
Along the way to Abby Falls, you have to cross this ridiculous wooden bridge, with the help of a metal cable. The water is rushing quite fast beneath, which makes it that much more exciting! A hike through a leech-infested plantation, and before you know it you emerge from the green into a throng of people. I am sure that some of the crowd could be contributed to the Dasara holiday, but I can’t imagine the site ever being peaceful. Upon seeing the state of things at the falls, I doubt if we will be leading many more treks there. The tourist season is ramping up – coming into full swing within the next month or two – and we are still oiling up the gears.
I rose early this morning and hiked to the top of the nearby ridge with my tripod in hand. The view was glorious, and the morning mist was rising in the valleys as the air heated up. I took 3 shots at different exposures, and combined them to form this HDR image (High Dynamic Range). Wonderful!
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