BHUTAN'S NATIONAL SPORTS

ArcheryAnyone who has been to Bhutan, watched movies or documentaries, or read about the country will know that archery (datse) is the national sport. An anachronistic sport that goes well with a culture where men wear generously cuffed, collared, and belted knee-length bloussomed coats as theirmain garment. Whether competing with traditional bamboo bows or the far more accurate American-made compound bows, men shoot at a small target 145 meters away at local archery ranges. Returning from a birding walk in Bumthang, Judy and I watched part of a match, but were more interested in the jests and personal antics of the players who make sport of all aspects of the game, including the abilities or disabilities of their opponents.

Hurling with the monksOn the same walk we passed three monks playing daygo, a game of hurling a heavy stone at a dug-out depression at the far end of the field. A variation of horse shoes or bocce with the goal of both placing your stone closest to the goal and also displacing your opponents' stones. Monks are prohibited from participating in archery. I wonder if this rule stems from the same sort of reasoning given by the medieval church, prohibiting churchmen from drawing blood. Militant arch-bishops and other religious notables still sat their saddles in the vanguard, cradling maces and rushing into battle to crush the heads of their enemies. They followed, if not the spirit of the Christian laws of brotherly love and turning the other cheek, then at least the letter of the law of drawing no blood.

Tsheten said the usual strategy is to get the heaviest stone one can throw, but also one that doesn't tire the arm before the end, at which time one's opponent with a smaller stone would have the advantage.

The all day darts game
The best sport show of all was a women's dart (khuru) tournament. Early on our second day birding, driving north from Punakha to the Jigme Dorji National Park, we stopped to experience a village darts game. Women from two villages were competing on a rough pitch about 20 meters long, formed from the lowest terrace of a recently harvested rice field. The teams of 8 or so players were made up of young and middle-aged women, done-up in their finest long skirts or dresses (kiras--more about them in another blog) topped off with traditional shining silk jackets, taegos, over a silky shirt, wonju to complete a most stunning and unsportif outfit.


The darts are about 12 inches (30 cm) long with a 3 inch heavy metal point, a bullet-shaped wood "bobbin" centered on the shaft and balanced with three feathers of thin plastic sheet. Thrown with gusto, the darts spin through the air and end up in a wide scatter around a two foot high target that had been pounded into the ground and angled from the players at about 50 degrees. The celebration after a hit brings the winner and her fellow players into a circle in the middle of the field where they perform a traditional song and dance accompanied with some superior laughter and a bit of showing off at the expense of the opposing team.


Late in the afternoon on our way back to Punakha, still hunting for the white-belly heron, the women's game was in full swing, encouraged now by a much larger audience of rooting fans and boisterous commentators, fueled by a day of festivities.

BIRDING BHUTAN

Flying in the shadow of the giantsThe flight from Katmandu, Nepal to Paro, Bhutan on a clear winter's day, skirting south of the majestic mountain expanse from Everest to Kanchenjunga, is the perfect introduction to the world's one remaining Buddhist kingdom. The looping final approach to the airport between forested mountains, accompanied by a rapid descent, reinforces the notion that one is entering a very different sort of place. Perhaps even dropping into a magical past, cut off from the rest of the world by more than four dimensions.

Instead of saving our travel until the end of the volunteer month, Judy Forbes (friend and volunteer with the anesthesia department at the National Hospital) and I had made arrangements with Tsheten Lodey (www.bhutantouragent.com) to see some of the birds of Bhutan. Neither of us would consider ourselves die-hard twitchers or even moderately avid ones, though I admit to having kept a bird list in our travels and will gladly share it. So, why birds? Birding is simply a way to organize a trip, give context to the lay of the land, and provide delightful entertainment. Both Judy and I are more interested in "pretty birds" than rare ones, and find raptors far too difficult. But give us a foraging nuthatch in an erythrina tree or a busy fantail and we are enchanted. Birding is also quiet and slow--a legitimate excuse for a journey without too much sweat. By the end of our 6 days, the red vented bulbul and Hodgson's redstart had become familiar creatures in an increasingly familiar countryside.

Journey to Discover Bhutan
Tsheten Lodey's company, Journey to Discover Bhutan, organizes specialist tours for studying Bhutan's natural history; cultural endeavors, especially those centered on the exuberant Buddhist religious festivals, for which the country is famous; and trekking. Besides his knowledge of birds, he knows the habitats in which to find a particular species and the time of year to look for them. For example, one day he promised us a honeyguide. He stopped along the side of the road, in what I thought an inauspicious location, and sure enough, camouflaged on a bare branch of a shrub overhanging a rock face sat a yellow-rumped honeyguide.

In a small country that ranges in altitude from 150 meters to 7500 meters in the space of less than 100 kms and varies in rainfall from monsoon fed sub-tropics to dry alpine scrub, a birder is offered an astonishing variety.

The White Bellied Heron
One of Bhutan's rarest birds, the white-bellied heron, winters in the rivers around Punakha in the western part of the country. During our first dinner, some Bhutanese discussed the delay in the bird's appearance. As of 24 Nov it had not been sighted and its return was questioned on TV news casts. Would it arrive? Of course we went looking, walking along the Pho Chhu ( Pho River) near the Punakha Dzong (a fortified monastery combining state administrative and religious functions) the afternoon of the 25th without luck. The next day we drove north into the Jigme Dorji National Park along the Mo Chhu almost to Damji. Two hours walking along the river, hearing from the school children and local adults that, yes, they had all seen the herons. A pair had flown by about noon, an adult and a juvenile had been seen in a place where they commonly fish. We followed bands of boys who showed where the day before or that morning they had seen the birds. Tsheten queried everyone and we followed all leads. But no luck. On the return drive to Punakha we stopped frequently to check the river. Just below the Dzong, near the area we had walked the day before, Tsheten pointed. To the lee of a gravel bar stood a most stately bird. Soft gray in color with an exaggeratedly long neck, he walked in the shallow waters with the purposefulness of royalty. After being admired he spread his wings and, capturing all the grace of his species in that one movement, flew down river.

ShatuOur driver, Shatu, is also a birder, as well as ex-champion light weight boxer in the army. In a country of one lane roads and inexperienced, young, male drivers Shatu's army-acquired driving skills were reassuring. Shatu knows birds by sounds and their habits, something for which I have no talent. He grew up in eastern Bhutan, west of Mongar, where the semi-tropical forests are home to the best birding in the country. He learned about birds while tending his family's cattle and spending time in cattle camps. While driving with his window open, he'd hear a bird song or call, tilt his head a few degrees, stop the car, and say its name, showing us the bird--usually one we could hardly identify with binoculars and a bird book. He reminded me of the endearing character, Benjamin, in the book, A Guide to the Birds of East Africa--A Novel.

Sunbirds and Flowerpeckers
During our tour winter flowering cherry trees in clouds of pink blossom studded the mixed deciduous temperate forests, breaking the green with unexpected spring-color. Our first day out we stopped to take a picture of one glorious specimen tree along the road and spent an hour observing sunbirds, flowerpeckers, warblers and tits who were making that curve in the road a vibrating, noisy aviary. Finding a cherry tree and parking ourselves at an easy viewing distance became our strategy for early morning independent bird watching.

The Black-necked Crane
Like most members of its family, the black-necked crane is globally threatened. In the late autumn hundreds leave their Tibetan breeding grounds and head to the extensive marshes of the Phobjikha valley in central Bhutan where they attract an array of tourists from unreconstructed twitchers to the casually curious. Like the white-bellied heron, this bird's preservation has become part of Bhutanese culture. Conservation and recognition of the endangered, threatened, vulnerable, or rare animals and their habitats is a governmental goal, taught in schools, and practiced by the citizens. We saw this when hunting for the white-bellied heron. The children knew this bird and its habits in a way I have rarely seen with American children or ever practiced myself.

The extent and diversity of its forests set Bhutan apart from other Himalayan countries. Over 70% of the country remains forested and in turn, most of the birds are forest and scrub dependent species. Bhutan has birds similar to those I know from Africa, such as sunbirds, drongos, hornbills, and bulbuls, while others such as crossbills and grosbeaks look similar to North American regulars. Though the plumage of the spotted nutcracker looks nothing like that of the Clark's nutcracker I know in Montana, the body, the beak, the call and habits make them unmistakable cousins. But I knew nothing of minivets, fulvettas, or redstarts until seeing them here.

Spring, the season of flowering for Bhutan's 47 varieties of spectacular rhododendrons and other seasonal blossoms is the best time for seeing birds. Ah, something to look forward to.