Chiang Dao is a birder's haven. At the Nest, which lies on a windy crest between soaring peaks and lush valleys, a group of North American twitchers were having lunch amidst talk of lifers. Lying by the resort's guestbook is an ample logbook for sightings as well as a well worn copy of Craig Robson's Birds of Thailand. The trees and shrubbery along the narrow lane leading to the Wat Tham Pla Plong ring with twitters from tailorbirds, bulbuls, babblers, ioras, sunbirds and flowerpeckers. Up in the canopy, drongos and flycatchers dash out for winged prey while families of bulbuls gather to feed on clusters of fruiting bodies.
On the empty school field fronting the caves, a pair of wagtails descend to rummage in the dry grass. The dense and dry maze of twigs that litter the wayside harbour several greater coucals. Down at the village, the mature trees that ring the clearing leading to the caves sing with the calls of competing magpie robins. The race here appears a little different from those that occur at the southern tip of the Malay Peninsula, but this is no surprise as Copsychus saularis ranges far and wide, from India and Southern China to the East Indies. With luck, its song will outlive the lays of laissez-faire that herald a time of tribulation, as Gaia strains to satisfy her prodigal sons.
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