Semuliki

One Canadian science teacher. One Kenyan tour guide. The first, a canuck-turned-London man, is a neurotic, over-rushed maniac with a bipolar nature of being at times a well-rounded gentleman and at others, an obsessive-compulsive twitcher with sudden urges to wrangle reptiles. The other is a calm, collected and wise woman who takes her time to enjoy nature and with a matriarch-type personality.











These two haphazard companions were brought to southeastern Uganda for a single divine purpose: to slay the Albertine Rift endemics (and maybe photograph a few butterflies and even have a little fun by accident). At odds with this later objective was a dark and sinister force: the wrath of forest birding, whereby birds are like ghosts - more often heard and seldom affording even a second's view, ever keeping to the shadows of the thick undergrowth or up high in the canopy. Luckily, in Semuliki forest, we had Justice on our side (literally, our guide's name was Justice). That is so African, we thought, spurring a small brainstorming session for what I might name my first kid. Some kind of name, I thought, that is a good virtue, like "Wisdom", "Purity", "Precious" or "Favour." But then there are the ones I would call tier 2, like "Godliness", 'Prudence", "Innocent", etc.. I could go one step further and name my kid after an even more specific virtue or good character trait. How about "Steadfastness" or "Loyalty". No, I thought, if I were an African, I'd name my son: "Stick-to-itedness Snieder".



Back to our tale. We followed Justice into the forest to some nice hot springs, nabbing an assortment of Semuliki specialities along the way. For the non-bird-savy, Semuliki a little bit of Congolese lowland tropical forest that justs into south-western Uganda. Since nobody can really go birding in the Congo, aside from in the Virungas, it is the best place to see these Congolese lowland forest species. We managed to pick up such tasty ones as Fire-crested Alethe and the aptly named Leaf-love. An evening foray failed to hear the highly coveted and mythical Nkulengu Rail, which Justice told us would be a waste of our time if they are not calling at the time. Nor were we able to get a visual on a calling Swamp-palm Bulbul. Such is the unforgiving torture of Semuliki birdng where a second's distraction could spell lifer-missing misery.

A fire-crested Alethe, one of the low-altitude specialties of Uganda

A reclusive Forest Robin offers a second's view

Rails aside, the day-time birds were not enough to satisfy my heart's desires. I asked Justice of a great  and mythical swallow that dwelleth deep in the jungle, on the Semuliki River which divides Uganda and the Congo. "What if we were to harness its power and use it to our own advantage" I thought. We discussed the possibility. I sensed hesitation and doubt in his voice at the mention of this bird. I soon knew why. It would involve a 14 km march through uncertain (most likely swampy) jungle. Justice summoned another guard to accompany Martha in case we were to split up.


A dark shadow loomed over our quest as I too shared some doubt, I am ashamed to admit. At dawn, we set out for the river. The fellowship moved at a steady pace, making strategic stops along our way, trying to opportunistically nab lifers along the way while at the same time trying to keep a quick average pace. Crested Malimbes, Brazza's Monkey and White-crested Hornbills meant we were off to a good start by any standard!



Eventually, we reached a secluded forest pool. Immediately, a Shining Blue Kingfisher scooted across the water. I peered around the far corner of the pool to behold a mystical sight: a Hartlaub's Duck making a ghostly retreat. This is the only spot in East Africa to see this reclusive jungle duck, elsewhere found in the Congo. We crossed the pond over a slippery log using poles for balance. Then, a frightening sight: swamp covering the trail as far as the eye could see. Justice and I began the crossing, him in his Wellies and I by removing my boots and wading.











But there was a problem: the girls were no longer with us. There was some confusion and yelling of stuff in the local language, then I came to understand that they were not going to go any further with us. I waited. Were they coming? I could hear Martha's voice but not understand a thing. Would we make it all the way to the river? Justice was getting impatient and entertaining the idea of turning back. I could feel the corrupting influence of the White-throated Blue Swallow taking hold. Men are weak, and it appears to hold great power over them. Alas, it is with great shame that I tell you, we carried on to the river. There were many miles of mud and swamp ahead, and Justice could only wait so long. My worst fear had been realized: I had forsaken my companion and followed my guide to the river to seek for forbidden Swallow, a true Boromir moment. The fellowship was broken.