We vacationed in Montemar Beach Resort several months back with some co-HEdCen parents and their kids. In the vegetation surrounding the rows of the resort’s guest buildings were dozens of this type of bird I never noticed before. Since we occupied a room on the second floor, it was quite easy for me to camp out on the balcony for a couple of hours to shoot pictures.

Back home in Antipolo, I did the usual online research for its species name. It turned out to be the Black-headed Munia (a.k.a. Chestnut Munia), and Wikipedia says it’s also known in the Philippines as maya pula (or “red maya”).

What I was surprised to discover, however, was that it used to be our national bird, before the Philippine eagle (or haribon) took over the distinction in 1995 by virtue of Proclamation No. 615 issued by Pres. Fidel V. Ramos.

(To digress a bit, is it just me or can’t we seem to live down our country’s inferiority complex that we just had to choose as a national emblem a critically endangered species that’s – not coincidentally – more physically imposing than the American bald eagle? Don’t get me wrong; the Philippine eagle is magnificent, described by Wikipedia as one of the tallest, rarest, largest and most powerful birds in the world, and X-Gen Atenistas like me may  remember with wistful pride the specimen housed in the aviary in the grade school campus back in the 1970s. But, c’mon, isn’t the hardy, sociable and numerous maya pula a more apt representative of the Filipino? Just thinking out loud…)

Since these photos were taken in the mid-afternoon of a hot April day, the birds were sheltering themselves from the bright tropical sunlight in whatever shade they could find among the leaves. To compensate for the sharp contrasting shadows, I had to use direct flash often. The red mayas didn’t seem to mind the bursts too much.

Using flash also helped to create or capture catchlights in the eyes, which was somewhat difficult because of the bird’s dark head coloring. (Eyes without catchlights make the subject seem dull or lifeless.) Plus, I think the flash added a bit of luster to the reddish-brown upper body feathers and the white-gray beak, to set these features apart even more from the blackness of its head, chest and belly.

It’s a pity the Black-headed Munia was knocked off its roost (yes, yes, pun intended) as the national bird. But given the dwindling numbers of the Philippine eagle and what sadly looks like the haribon’s inevitable extinction, this diminutive former king robed in chestnut and ebony may yet regain its throne, with or without a presidential proclamation.

Posted in: Better Earth, Photo Gallery | Comments(1) | October 2009

You espy a flash of electric blue on the wing and follow it. It lands heavily on a tree branch, settles in, and makes a screeching sound that clashes with the more melodious chirpings of the white-eyes.

That’s the white-collared kingfisher. It’s a perch-and-wait kind of bird, staying motionless for minutes while it surveys its surroundings.

In flight, it’s marvelous to behold because of its resplendent color, especially against a pale blue sky. In repose, its dark mottled broad upper bill gives it a rather grim profile.

Because of the frequency of the grating strident calls it makes, I thought that were half a dozen or so in the foliage near our home. After reading up a bit about them (see links below), I now believe it was just this one pair inhabiting the area making all that noise.

The white-collared kingfisher eats, among other things, lizards, as you can see from the picture above.

Read more about it at this link to a National Library of Singapore site and this pretty comprehensive Wikipedia entry.

Posted in: Better Earth, Photo Gallery | Comments(2) | October 2009