The uber-shy Red-billed Dwarf Hornbill, which we had chased around vainly at the hotsprings, reappeared on this magical trail. They afford 1 good view and if you miss that view then you won't find another one for at least 24 hours. I can't even imagine trying to find this bird ourselves without the help of Justice's whistles and calls on his phone. We did. The rest of the morning comprised of marching at a determined pace, punctuated by abrupt stops when Justice heard an interesting bird. The man's senses are razor sharp.
We were baffled and surprised to hear a story of the park almost losing him to some random nowhere park (the exact details of which it is not my place to share), but in the end, a bizarre intervention prevented his unholy exodus from taking place, and he continues to be one of the word's best local guides to one of the toughest birding locales. Thank God, because without Justice, we would have been hopeless.
After what seemed like endless walking or 'mud peddling' as Justice called it, when it seemed like the trail got worse and worse and I was starting to guess when we'd have to turn around, I spotted a body of water. I thought it was a lake but actually, this was the Semliki River itself. I was not expecting it to be so wide. I quickly scanned the horizon for the characteristic poles which the fishermen use to string their nets to. Justice said that on this segment, the swallows always use these poles as perches while hunting for insects over the water. There were many, all vacant of metallic blue tops. I told myself to be patient and while Justice chatted up the local fishermen, I scanned until I spotted two ducks squabbling far on the Congolese side. Hold on a sec', those aren't ducks...those are Finfoots! The African Finfoot, one of my great nemeses, just appeared out of nowhere. But as soon as I raised my sniper lens, they had gone into the reeds. The finfoot is an extremely shy bird.
Later, I did spot two swallows, far, far over the water. This called for a special boat charter, which set me back approximately 1 US dollar (Justice and I each had our own boat). I felt like a British explorer being taken into the jungle with my expensive gear and this fisherman prodding me gondola-style in an actual hollowed-out log canoe. "Man, I wish Martha were here" I thought.
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| The vessel of choice |
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| White-throated Blue Swallow |
I had my boatman gently prod us forward until the last swallow took off, then went to check on the finfoots. They were long gone, but the search did reveal a group of Orange Weavers, apparently not known to occur at this site although the book says they've been recorded along the Semliki River at some point.
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| Chestnut-capped Flycatchers |
As the day got later, the temperature got hotter, the birds quieter and our pace quicker. But this was one of those long hikes where the suffering pays off. Crossing the swamp again, I knew we only had another 6 km to go.
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| Very carefully...one step on a thorn or spike and I could get a jungle infection |
This picture of me crossing the swamp pretty much sums up the Semliki experience. My expression is a combination of triumph and pride mixed with a feeling of deep guilt and shame for abandoning my friend. In my eye, a flicker of incensed rage.
Justice told me many stories of people he's taken around Semliki. Pretty much all of end with people yelling at each other, yelling at him, going mad, going broke, or preparing for divorce. Yes, this forest certainly has an intoxicating effect on those foolish enough to enter it. In the case of Martha and I, our friendship survived, and is now stronger than ever. Perhaps one day we can return, conquer the swamp and see the blue swallow together.
