Raffles Banded Langur. Photo courtesy of Andie Ang.
So they say patience is a virtue, well it’s an absolute necessity when watching wildlife. For the last few weeks I’ve been given a lesson in this truism by one of Singapore’s rarest residents, a critically endangered species of primate that numbers less than a 100 and is now only found in one small region of the island.
Every other day, I’ve been getting up early, grabbing my binoculars and taking a 30 minute bus ride up into the central region of Singapore, only to spend a couple of hours wandering (pretty aimlessly) through a small patch of forest in the vain hope of spotting one particular primate for this story on Travel+Leisure Asia.
A Raffles Banded Langur on one of the new rope bridges across Old Thomson Road. Photo courtesy of Sabrina Jabbar.
But a week ago, finally, after over 20 hours of disappointment I finally caught my first glimpse of a Raffles Banded Langur in the wild and I have got to say it was a pretty joyous experience. In the end my wildlife encounter required very little skill or cunning on my part, as the monkey’s were simply crashing about in the canopy close to the side of the road.
It also helped that two interns from the Raffles Banded Langur Working Group, Amos and Glendon, had already found the group and were busily snapping away with their long lens camera. Thanks to their spotting expertise and knowledge I got to spend a delightful three hours following the group of seven, including one adorable baby, as they picked their way through the canopy parallel to the old
Thomson Road.
Early morning in Thomson Nature Park
You can read about why these mon about why these monkeys are so special in the story – bottom line is they are just so very, very rare - and they got even rarer this year when they were officially confirmed as a separate species. Anyway, it was all very much worth it and will definitely be back to look for them again.
I do also want to give a quick recommendation for Thomson Nature Park which is where I was doing my monkey walks. It only opened last year and while pretty small it’s got some lovely trails that take you through some interesting woodland and passed the crumbling houses of an old Hainanese Kampung.
While I never actually saw any Langurs in the l reserve, I did have lots of great moments spotting wild boar, tree shrews, woodpeckers, drongos and a tonne of other birds. It’s also pretty atmospheric with some seriously-sprawling figs and lots of sun-dappled trails.
The reserve also leads through to Old Thomson Road, a winding single-lane avenue that’s flanked by forest on either side. While it’s still open to traffic it has a cycle lane and walking path making it very pedestrian/bike friendly. As well as langurs you are almost certain to see the macaque troops that like to hang out by the side of the road. Anyway, I’ll leave you with my best/only photo of the Langur; I was so wrapped up in the moment that I kind of forgot to take any pictures.
Wetlands Revival
Talking of stories, a bit of further shameless self-promotion in terms of a link to my latest story on Sungei Buloh Wetland Reserve, which got published last week in the South China Morning Post.
After a weird few months where things have been turned completely upside down, it was obviously very cathartic to get a story published and in print too. It was also particularly pleasing that it was about a place that’s definitely helped keep me sane during that period. Check it out here and admire the beautiful images from the talented photographer Scott A Woodward.
A forest returns?
The former palm oil plantation. Photo: RFF.
Responsible for major habit loss and a threat to the survival of numerous wildlife species, most famously the orangutans, the devastating environmental impact of palm oil plantations has been well documented over the last few years. Yet one project in Malaysian Borneo is attempting to reverse this trend and potentially offer a blueprint for longer term environmental recovery.
Sealing of the alliance for the expansion of the "Tabin-Kulamba Wildlife Corridor between RFF, BOS Germany, Leibniz-IZW & Sabah Forestry Department. Photo: RFF.
An alliance of conservation groups and researchers, including Borneo Orangutan Survival (BOS), the Rhino and Forest Fund (RFF) and the Leibniz Institute for Zoo and Wildlife Research (Leibniz-IZW), are currently trialling the conversion of a former patch of legal palm oil plantation back into near-natural rainforest.
According to a report in Mongabay the long-term aim is to create an 800m wildlife corridor that will connect Tabin and Kulamba, two important protected wilderness reserves in the east of the Malaysian state of Sabah. The hope is the corridor will reconnect currently isolated populations of the rare Bornean banteng, a subspecies of wild cattle, as well as help support Bornean elephants and other endangered species such as the hairy-nosed otter and helmeted hornbill.
RFF Executive Director Robert Risch with a tree planted 9 months before in Tabin. Photo: RFF.
The land was finally purchased at the end of 2019 and planting, focused on around 30 different native tree species, began this year. Yet the project has been nearly ten years in the making, with Robert Risch, executive director of RFF telling Mongabay: “The project is like a tree: if you plant a tree you cannot expect it to fruit next year. And now it seems like we have planted the right tree at the right time at the right spot.”
Researchers from the Leibniz Institute are comparing different restoration approaches as the reforestation project continues and, if all goes well, then the hope is that this strategy can be adopted elsewhere in the region. Having written before about the essential need to re-wild degraded spaces to slow climate change and biodiversity loss this is clearly a welcome step in the right direction. I’ll definitely be keeping an eye on how they get on and who knows, maybe I can go and visit when we all get to travel again.
The Last Unicorn
Back in October, I did a short piece about a newly confirmed nature reserve in the Annamite Mountain range of Central Vietnam. This was particularly good news as it would (at least ostensibly) greater protection of lowland evergreen forest that was home to a number of endangered species, including an incredibly rare type of antelope called the Saola.
I confess I had never heard of the reserve or the animal before writing that story but, as is the weird way of serendipity, I then came across a book on the subject last time I was in the library.
The Last Unicorn, is an account by American nature writer William deBuys of a research trip he joined back in 2011 to look for Saola on the Laos side of the Annamite range. The title comes from the nickname given to the Saola, a tribute to its enigmatic nature: it was only ‘discovered’ in 1992 and still very little is known about this large forest dweller, with very few reported sightings of it in the wild.
It’s not new (it actually came out in 2015) but I really wanted to recommend it as I found it a very poignant read about a fascinating creature and an amazing region of South East Asia. It’s an incredibly well-written and well-researched account of the trip, one that’s given extra life through the writer’s personal reflections and some gorgeous descriptions of the forest they pass through.
A rare image of the elusive Saola
It’s not always the most optimistic though, the reality is that these forests are under lots of external pressures from illegal logging and the wildlife trade, with the remote locations and porous borders making it almost impossible to police. Still there is clearly a sense of optimism that comes through despite it all, much of it from deBuy’s descriptions of the survey group’s lead William Robichaud, one of the world’s leading authorities on the Saola. Robichaud’s relentlessness despite the overwhelming odds stacked against him and his conservation cause definitely reminds me of other conservationists I’ve personally met while writing stories. Debuys sums up their unique character in this paragraph, which starts with a quote from his friend who is suffering from terminal cancer.
“If nothing’s going to work then anything might help.
It is an illogical proposition, of course. Face Facts: if nothing will work, nothing will work. But after many interviews with Robichaud and his colleagues, it struck me that the same odd welding of attitudes may be found among conservation biologists….
The outlook is almost universally grim, and yet the funds are raised, the difficult field conditions endured, the bureaucracies contended with, and a thousand complications overcome to allow the work to continue.”
It seemed pretty apt right now and a good attitude to take as the whole world is facing a host of seemingly insurmountable and unbeatable challenges: if nothing’s going to work then anything might help...