One of the pleasures of birding in Sichuan was the diversity of Rosefinches. If you have seen three species in Western Europe you have done well. Below are some photo highlights of some of the 12 species of Rosefinch that we saw in Sichuan. Also seen, but not photographed well, were Dark-breasted Rosefinch, Common Rosefinch, Long-tailed Rosefinch & Crimson-browed Finch.

Vinaceous Rosefinch

Streaked Rosefinch

Red-fronted Rosefinch

Pink-rumped Rosefinch

White-browed Rosefinch

Blandford’s Rosefinch

Pink-tailed Rosefinch/Przevalski’s Finch

Three-banded Rosefinch

“Longcanggou – don’t mention that place, the roads were terrible, it rained the whole time, we saw none of the target species“. So said a member of a Dutch tour party that we met in Tangjiahe as we were about to depart for Longcanngou.  Not necessarily what you want to hear about your next destination. And more rain was forecast.

Longcanggou is a large forest covered hill that rises east of the Jingkun Expressway, a few hours south of Chengdu. The far eastern side apparently has, in fair weather, good views and thus a hotel development is being constructed on top.  There is only one access road, for construction traffic or for birders and in wet weather it becomes liquid.  Our accommodation was at Ganziping at the base of the hill proper. We spent three nights in Longcanggou, the first after driving through the paddyfields and tea plantations of southern Sichuan. The days fell into a routine of awaking in the dark and rain; driving east and up the hairpins of the single liquid mud road in the rain; then working pretty hard to pull a few species of bird out of the mist, fog and rain; before finally descending back to our accommodation, in the rain. People come here for, amongst others, Grey-headed and Brown Parrotbills, Emei Leaf Warbler, Sichuan Treecreeper and Red Panda. These species, plus more beside, are found at altitude in the forests on top of Longcanggou. Our visit, only this late in the trip as we swapped it for the Wolong Blackthroats on the first day, was dominated by rain, fog and poor visibility (picture by Ian):

Our first day here was spent at lower levels, whilst we waiting in vain to see if the weather would improve. Two hours after leaving our accommodation we got lucky with a drive-by Pheasant. Ian, in the front passenger seat, suddenly calls “Lady Amherst’s Pheasant!“. Roland, driving, pulls the car over and there in front of us at the forest edge is a vision of white, green and blue, a stunning male Lady A:

As soon as we stop the bird runs across the road, uses the forest as cover and comes back out behind us. The low light levels mean getting pictures is beyond us, most show a blurred white streak crossing the road, a sort of smeared Roadrunner. Still, in life, this was a fantastic bird to see and raises our spirits. As the morning progresses we pick up some other local goodies: Emei Leaf Warbler, Red-winged Laughingthrush, Kloss’s Leaf Warbler and Mountain Bulbul:

Having few other options we decided to try to get up to the top on our second day. If we thought  the lower approach road was bad, the road nearer the construction site on top was appalling. We park and pick our way up the mountain, trying to avoid the very deep areas of mud. It does feel as though we are walking though a human-inflicted scar on the landscape. There are birds, but visibility is poor. Scanning the trees for Red Panda is productive in good weather. We could barely see each other at times:

But with a bit of effort, we take what rewards there are to be had:Red-billed Liethorix, Chestnut-headed Tesias, Aberrant and Brown Bush Warblers are picked up on call and eventually seen. Dead trees reveal Darjeeling  Woodpeckers, a perched Large Cuckoo Hawk and our first Sichuan Treecreeper (picture by Ian):

Overhead Himalayan Swiftlets and small groups of White-throated Needletails appear as silhouettes against the low cloud base. Then the road levels out and we have reached the construction site on top. To say it was wet underfoot would be an understatement. Here Roland and I are trying to turn the wet dark shapes in the trees into Parrotbills (picture by Ian):

We, like everyone else we met in those few days in Longcanggou, had no success with Grey-headed Parrotbill, but conditions were hardly favourable and there was little inclination to spend hours waiting in the rain and increasingly cold wind. The plateau/building site area did provide views of both Great and Brown Parrotbill, plus our 16th species of phylloscopus warbler, Buff-throated Warbler (picture by Ian):

Which was rapidly followed by a soaking Brown Shrike:

Conditions being what they were, we did not stay on top too long and we begin our descent. Ian took this great portrait of his boots, which just about summed up conditions during the morning:

However, the afternoon was to prove much more productive. We dropped a few hundred metres in altitude before Roland led us down a track to the west of the main road, along a ridge through mature forest. We quickly called in a large mixed flock of birds; Rufous-gorgetted Flycatchers, Red-billed Liethorix…

…many leaf warblers and two species of Fulvetta: our first Golden-breasted Fulvetta, plus this showy Grey-hooded Fulvetta:

There were also Red-tailed Minla…

… but best of all, a fabulous Streaked Barwing. This thrush-sized bird ran along horizontal branches tossing off moss and searching for insects. It blazed along branches above our heads and was a real show-stopper:

We return to the main road and whilst approaching the Golden Parrotbill site hear, and eventually get glimpses, of a cracking Emei Shan Liocichla. The Golden Parrotbills, although tiny, are much easier to see and full of character:

This is not to say that the rain has stopped, just that the birds are wisely keeping to lower and more sheltered areas of the forest. A couple of damp pictures:

The fabulously named Mrs Gould’s Sunbird. Note the absence of sun and presence of rain:

By late afternoon we have descended right down to the river. From the path I pick out a distant Spotted Forktail bobbing about on a small island…

…by the waterfalls are a nice Blue Whistling Thrush… 

.. and our fourth species of Forktail! Two Little Forktails put on a great display as they sparred over territory with each other on the rocks right in front of us. I can’t think of many birds that have such pale legs and toes:

The day ends with us listening to Himalayan Owl and Oriental Scops Owls with hints that the weather may by improving, just as we have to leave. Our final morning finds us listening to Oriental Cuckoo, Large Hawk Cuckoo, Eurasian Cuckoo and Chinese Bamboo Partridge at dawn. We spend the morning trying, but failing, to see Golden-fronted Fulvetta, David’s Fulvetta being the nearest we got:

We heard White-tailed Robin calling, as we had on our first day. And like that early experience, the bird is incredibly elusive. I confess, after 17 consecutive days of birding, to feeling somewhat birded out, so leave Ian and Roland to stalk their target whilst I check out the more open areas of the path. A flycatcher flies in to perch above me, a nice Brown-breasted Flycatcher. I enjoy it and the singing Kloss’s Leaf Warblers nearby, before we load up the car and drive back to Chengdu:

We saw some 297 species in 17 days, a frustrating total for those of us that like round numbers, but a more than satisfactory total. We were unlucky with the weather in the second half of the trip, Tangjihae and Longcanggou were seriously washed out, costing us a dozen or more species. However, on average it rains every other day in Sichuan in May, all you can do is allow back -up days to account for this. Our schedule could not quite stretch to that. Our adventure took us from the steamy plains of the Chengdu basin to snowfall and altitude sickness at 4500m at Balangshan. Onto the open plains of the Tibetan Plateau and into the stunning mountain and lake filled scenery of northern Sichaun. We saw 12 species of Rosefinch, 7 species of Parrotbill, 16 species of phylloscopus warbler, 14 species of Tit, 5 species of Swift and 14 species of Pheasant & Partridge. It was an incredible trip and is very highly recommended, especially for those that like their birds with some added adventure and spicy food. Big thanks go out to Ian for suggesting Sichuan as a destination, for being the calm pro-birder that he is and for putting up with me for nearly three weeks! We would both recommend Roland as a guide for Sichuan, his knowledge of the language and insight into the country added to our enjoyment of the trip. The knowledge that Sid and Roland have accumulated over the years makes seeing the birds of this very special region much more achievable and I for one will never forget some of the fabulous birds, sights and scenery that we experienced in the mountains of south-west China.

Tuesday 24th May 2016

Essentially a travel day, but there was some morning birding around Dujiangyan in the Chengdu basin, before the drive south to Longcanngou.

We awoke in Dujiangyan to the aftermath of last night’s Sichuan hotpot. Vast quantities of oil and hot spices have a predictable effect upon the gut. Details are not necessary here, but suffice to say that we now refer to this local specialty as Sichuan Hotbot. We meet Roland round the corner from the hotel and indulge in some local park birding. House Swifts cuts swathes above us, our fourth species of Swift on the trip so far:

Then two cracking birds in quick succession. The wonderfully named Fire-breasted Flowerpecker flew in to perch on a nearby tree…

.. and then Roland located a Northern Boobook Owl perched in a large tree next to some local tower blocks. Any day that you see an Owl is a good day:

We moved into a local park and found Swinhoe’s Minivets and Forest Wagtails in the treetops. At ground level, some humans were engaging in Tai Chi:

Whilst others were teaching their dogs to dance to music. This is apparently unremarkable behaviour in China:

The local insect life was interesting too:

When Sichuan hotpot is your local specialty, emergency toilets are essential. We found these at the edge of the park:

Having checked out of our hotel, we then drove the short distance to the hills just outside of town, visible in the background, below:

It was Drongo time. We were greeting by calling Drongo Cuckoo and Hair-crested Drongo; a Black Baza drifted overhead whilst we watched Japanese White-eyes and Rufous-faced Warblers; a Pallas’s Squirrel scuttled through the canopy. Chinese Bamboo Partridge called, but remained hidden. Slightly higher up Indian Cuckoos called and we had our only glimpse of Grey-headed Canary-flycatcher. Rural folk worked the land:

Best of all, we caught up with another Forktail species. We had tantalizingly brief views of an adult and a juvenile Slaty-backed Forktail flitting about in a stream.  As lunch approached we drove back into Dujiangyan, finding a Long-billed Plover on the shingle banks of the river in town. After lunch we traveled south through Sichuan towards our final destination, Longcanggou, a mountain of forest, mud and rain. The drive through cool hills and tea plantations, punctuated by huge advertising hordings, was typically Chinese. As we climbed the foothills below Longcanggou we paused to see Elegant Bunting and Lesser Cuckoo and were then surprised to see this Chinese Water Snake (?) cross the road in front of us:

It had the distinctive habit of hiding it’s head behind the curls of it’s body:

At dusk we checked into our accommodation for the first of 3 nights. Ominously, the rain began to fall again.

Next: Longcanggou: dragging gems from a fog shrouded, mud covered mountain.

Saturday 21st May 2016

Essentially a travel day, beginning with another attempt to see Rufous-headed Robin in Jiuzhaiguo National park: 

We awake in the Zechawa Community Village, at the bottom of the Keze valley, over 2000m high in the Jiuzhaiguo National park. Today is our second, and final, attempt to see Rufous-headed Robin. First light reveals a change in the weather. Low cloud and mist hugs the thickly forested slopes. The dawn chorus is a fantastic mixture of special birds: Himalayan Owl, Golden Pheasant, Himalayan Cuckoo, Claudia’s and Large-billed Leaf Warblers amongst the thousands of singing phylloscopus warblers:

We walk 45 minutes up to the Robin site. Once again the silence of one of the world’s greatest songsters was deafening. We spend the first few hours of light waiting and listening, but without success. Gradually we come to terms with the fact that we will not see Rufous-headed Robin. In fact, at the time of writing, no Rufous-headed Robins have been reported from Jiuzhaiguo National park in 2016. As this area of  secondary growth forest, between 2400-2600m, here and in one nearby valley are the only known territories on the planet, this is ominous news for the long term survival of the species. Two years ago there were up to three singing males here, last year just one on one day and this year none. We are too late. The only hope is that, as we saw with the recent Blackthroat discovery at Wolong, any remaining Rufous-headed Robins have discovered suitable breeding habitat elsewhere. Amongst the other birds that we do see are more Père David’s Tits, another Chinese Nuthatch and this scruffy Nutcracker… 

… but eventually we are forced to admit defeat. We walk down to catch the bus back to the National Park entrance. Whilst we wait for a bus we notice a flock of swifts feeding under the low cloud base. Swifts have a special place in most birder’s hearts and quite rightly so. They are the purest manifestation of flight. Years can pass without them touching solid ground, most sleep and mate on the wing. China hosts a multitude of exciting swifts, including the species many regard as The Ultimate Swift: White-throated Needletail, the fastest bird on the planet and one that I have been waiting to see since I first read about them as a young boy.

The birds we were watching at about 2500m altitude have been driven down by low cloud. We all know what species they are, but we all call them different names: I know these birds as Pacific Swifts. Ian, from Australia, as Fork-tailed Swifts; Roland, our local expert, as Salim Ali’s Swifts. These birds breed around the Tibetan plateau and then disappear. Their wintering grounds are unknown. There are perhaps 50 swifts, together with a scattering of Asian House Martins. Photographing them against a dark grey sky is a monochrome business, though their white rumps are occasionally obvious:

This was to be the beginning of a fabulous day for Swifts and hirundines. Next up were the local Crag Martins that breed around the National Park entrance buildings:

We drive south-east from Jiuzhaigou and, in the late morning, pull up in a steep sided valley:

There is a completely different selection of birds at this lower altitude. We quickly notch up Brown-breasted Bulbul, Collared Finchbill, White-browed Laughingthrush, the spectacular Red-billed Blue Magpie and Spot-billed and Vineous-throated Parrotbills. A Père David’s Rock Squirrel scuttles across the rocky slopes, whilst the Black-naped Orioles and Grey Bushchats that we see are the only ones of the trip. We eventually get distant views of Long-tailed Rosefinch, and whilst Ian and Roland attempt better views, I decide to do a spot of exploring and wander further up the road.

Glancing up I see more swifts. A small flock of Salim Ali’s Swifts feed above the highest ridge, driven down to this altitude by the increasing cloud. My ears turn to identify the source of a rising roar from somewhere up near the Pacific Swift flock. The sound is getting louder, a rushing wind, increasing in volume and getting closer. Frantically scanning the upper reaches of the valley, I pick out two shapes dropping vertically out of the sky, the source of the sound, heading directly towards the ground. Sleek powerful bullets, the two dark shapes spiral around each other as they dive. They drop below the level of the lowest ridge at such speed that the sound of the wind rushing over their wings is clearly audible over hundreds of metres. Incredulous, my mind working ahead of events, the possibility that these birds are going to power themselves into the ground at the bottom of the valley flicks through my mind. Then, at what must be the absolutely last possible moment, at tremendous speed and against incredible gravitational force, the dark shapes effortlessly pull out of their dueling dive in perfect synchrony.  The roaring sound of the the sky being ripped in two by their wings intensifies to a crescendo as the birds pulled out of their dive, then abruptly falls silent. The two birds pass over my head at the speed of jet fighters. A momentary image of dark bird with a white throat and white undertail coverts that stretch around onto the flanks was burnt onto my retina. Then they are gone. This was not birdwatching, this was pure science fiction. I have been in the presence of something supremely aerial. Never have I felt so slow, so grounded, so terrestrial.

Some time after, in my shocked state it felt like about ten minutes but it was probably about two seconds, a tidal wave of adrenaline surges over my brain. At the same moment I scream to Ian and Roland, several hundred metres down the road: “Needletails!” But by then the birds were probably in Nepal.

I have waited over 45 years to see White-throated Needletail. Could they have announced their presence in any more dramatic a fashion? I did not just see them. They announced themselves to me with the sound of the atmosphere being forced apart by their flight. I heard the splitting of the sky with their wings. And then a low altitude fly-by worthy of any airshow:

But there are more. I look way down the road at Ian, who is now looking vertically up at the sky with binoculars. He turns, looks at me and simultaneously we point excitedly at the skies: “Needletails!“. Single birds scorch the air above the wooded slopes above us, skimming fast and low over the treetops:

Scanning the airspace above us, flocks of White-throated Needletails are gathering, fanning out their tail feathers to soar and glide. At least 70 White-throated Needletails whirled around above us, with 30+ Asian House Martin, a few Crag Martins and a single Asian Red-rumped Swallow: 

And then, as quickly as they appeared, they were gone. A degree of spontaneous celebration took place in the aftermath of our Needletail experience: 

We leave the valley and, under increasingly dark skies, we begin the long drive to Tangjihae Nature Reserve. As it gets dark, it begins to rain…

Next: Call Noah, its Tangjihae Nature Reserve!

Friday 20th May 2016

A whole day and an overnight stay in Jiuzhaigou National Park, one of the most beautiful areas in all of China:

Tourist activity begins early in Pengfeng. I was particularly aware of this as the window in my room did not close, so the noise of thousands of tourists mobilising for their day in Jiuzhaigou National Park reached me at first light. Last night we had learnt that, in terms of visitor numbers, it was going to be a quiet day. The park averages 7,000 visitors per day, with a reported cap of 12,000 per day.  For some reason the park authorities had closed down the automated ticket selling machines, meaning all the thousands that would visit today would have to queue for tickets at the gates before gaining entry. Even worse the park gates were not due to open until 8am, with the first coaches not due to take visitors up the mountain until 8:45am. As there was a 45 minute walk from the nearest official bus stop, it could be nearly 10am before we reached the Rufous-headed Robin site.

This was far from ideal. Rufous-headed Robins, like many birds, are most active and therefore most detectable, in the first few hours of daylight. If present, our target species, one of the rarest birds on Earth, could have finished it’s singing for the day hours before we even arrived. Fortunately we had Roland. 

We got a cab down from Pengfeng and then experienced one of the most surreal moments of the trip. At the front of the park were two lines of women. Each and every one of them was selling selfie sticks. Pink selfie sticks. We entered the famous Jiuzhaigou National Park through an archway of pink selfie sticks being thrust into our faces. This was a taste of what was to come.

Roland made sure that we were the first in the queue at the entrance gates. In picture above, Ian waits patiently, notching up Sooty Tit and Crag Martin whilst in the queue. When the park opened, using a combination of fluent mandarin and persistence, Roland ensured that we were on the first staff bus up the mountain, just after 8am. He then persuaded the driver to drop us off at the roadside, rather than at an official bus stop, so we were on site by 8:30 am. Result!

But that was where our luck ended. We spent the remainder of the morning slowly and quietly working our way around the traditional Rufous-headed Robin site, without hearing a single call or song. The news that no Robins had been seen here this year so far does not fill us with confidence, although potentially a migrant Rufous-headed Robin could arrive and begin singing at any moment. We catch up with lots of other good birds though, including Chinese Leaf Warblers: 

This is another Pallas’s Warbler type, but is even less bright than Sichuan Leaf Warbler and has a completely different song. Chinese Leaf Warblers sound almost like little sewing machines rattling away. There is something reminiscent of locustella warblers in their song. A few Bianchi’s Warblers (one of the Golden-spectacled Warbler complex) were holding territory:

Himalayan Cuckoos (the local version of Oriental Cuckoo) called, we had glimpses of a cracking male Indian Blue Robin and a Rufous-gorgeted Flycatcher, together with the more common phylloscopus warblers, Claudia’s Leaf and Large-billed Leaf Warblers. Prize for the most elusive bird that we actually saw was Chestnut-headed Tesia. This tiny little thing zipped around the boardwalk, calling constantly, never perching for long enough for my autofocus to lock onto it. Modern cameras are astounding pieces of technology, but my levels of amazement were taken to new levels. The picture below was actually taken through a solid branch hanging in front of me. The bird is still identifiable!

We then tried another site in the next door valley, Arrow Bamboo Lake. The silence of singing Rufous-headed Robins was deafening. But, nice woodland birds present included Rufous-vented Tit:

Père David’s Tit:

Claudia’s Leaf Warbler, the commonest phylloscopus warbler, one with a median crown stripe and two wing bars:

Fortunately Claudia’s Leaf Warblers make phylloscopus identification much easier by having the unique habit of flicking alternate wings:

But the nearest thing to a Rufous-headed Robin we encountered was just a better view of a Indian Blue Robin, again through much forest:

With the early afternoon heat being felt, we turned our attention to the fabulous scenery of Jiuzhaigou National Park:

Such scenery attracts people and back on the pathways around the lakes, we came into contact with thousands of Chinese tourists. The men were doing what Chinese men do best, most were smoking heavily. The Chinese women were all armed with selfie sticks, though not many had the pink ones we had braved at the entrance. Remarkably and without warning, all around us Chinese women with a selfie sticks would fall into poses and start taking selfies, in a very unselfconscious fashion: 

Picking over the prostrate forms of selfie sticking Chinese tourists, we tried to keep on finding birds. Roland picked out Great Spotted and Crimson-breasted Woodpecker (below):

Bar-tailed Treecreeper:

It was getting towards late afternoon. Our failure to see Rufous-headed Robin meant that we would have to stay in the park overnight, which gave us the opportunity to try for the robin again in the morning and at first light.  We headed back to the Zechawa community village and Roland negotiated the semi officially tolerated arrangements to stay in the village overnight:

I thought that might be it for the day, but Roland had other ideas. He suggested that we take one of the tourist buses up towards Upper Season Lake and walk the 8-10km back downhill to the village. Unfortunately the bus ascended higher than we anticipated, leaving us to complete a 14km route march before dusk fell. The bonuses were Himalayan Bluetails, Grey-hooded Fulvettas and, at just under 3000m, our first Kloss’s Leaf Warbler (a Claudia’s type, identifiable by call):

We walked back into the village at dusk, serenaded by Lesser and Large Hawk Cuckoos calling from the darkening forest. It had been another long day, lots of good birds but the central character was still absent without leave. We would try again in the morning for Rufous-headed Robin. 

Next: Needletail wonderland.

Thursday 19th May 2016

Today we leave the Tibetan plateau and head for one of China’s most famous national parks, Jiuzhaigou:

But first, a pre-breakfast couple of hours of birding around Zoige. We try again for Tibetan Shrike on the usual territory outside of town, but once again are without luck. There are Ruddy Shelducks on their morning flights above the plateau and small flocks of Greylag Geese following the river through town. The rufiventris Black Redstarts up here were very smart – much more orange than black in these beauties:

By the river that flows through Zoige we located our only Tiger Shrike of the trip…

…  and we get better views of the local Brown-headed Gulls:

Common Terns also whipped around overhead, some gathering to perch together on the phone wires that crossed the river. Flocks of Common Terns perching on wires, something I had never seen before: 

We then headed back to our hotel, the improbably named “Le Grand Large Hotel”. We picked up our bags and began preparing for the drive south east towards Jiuzhaigou. Whilst packing our vehicle, I saw children playing in a school yard next to our hotel in Zoige:

Education in China is a long and laborious process. Each school day is far longer than the equivalent day in Europe. Educational content focuses more on repetition than on analysis. Vast swaths of information await each child, who must memorise much and analyse little. Roland noted that the Chinese symbol for a child learning, 學, resembles a child with a box for a head, ready to be filled with state-controlled data. It is not simply that the nature of the language means that that there are several thousand basic characters to learn. Education is far more political than that. The very first words a child learns at school are “I am Chinese. I love China“. The nation state is named before the individual. Contrast this with my youngest daughter’s first learnt words at nursery: “I am Yasmin“. The individual does not come first in China. The primacy of the state and therefore the Communist Party, are embedded at an early age.

The fixation with memorising information also extends to the Chinese driving test. To the visiting European it appears simply incredible that such a thing even exists. Driving in China is a vaguely organised dangerous chaos. But you can only drive in China with a licence. In the theory test there are 1000 possible questions, but each candidate is informed that only 100 will be asked. Therefore all 1000 correct answers have to be memorised. A pass is given if 90% of the questions are answered correctly. The tortuous story of a non-Chinese citizen attempting this feat, and some of the bizarre questions that can be asked, is nicely recounted here. We picked up some steamed buns for breakfast from a street vendor, said goodbye to Zoige and hit the roads of south-west China:

We crossed the south-east corner of the Tibetan plateau where fresh snowfall greeted us at the pass at 3,875m (12,700 feet): 

We then descended 400 metres and pulled up alongside a river valley filled with low shrubs and dwarf willows. There was birdsong. White-bellied Redstarts sang, European Cuckoos called and, even more surreal, an Asian Red-rumped Swallow glided overhead. Not an easy morning for an insectivore at 3,400m altitude. But we were here for something much more special: Siberian Rubythroats. They may skulk, but in early spring when pumped full of breeding hormones, they do respond to playback. You never forget the first time that you see the luminous red throat of a Siberian Rubythroat. It positively flashes out, enhanced by the white moustachial stripe and exaggerated by the overall plainness of the rest of the bird. Indeed, except for the throat area, Siberian Rubythroats are very well camouflaged: 

But it is all about that throat, a red lighthouse flashing out:

Even so, they do remain masters at keeping a branch or a leaf between any observers and themselves:

We worked our way down from the plateau, passing through villages and towns. There were a couple more stops in vegetated valleys that produced more Siberian Rubythroats plus White-throated Redstarts, Rufous-breasted Accentors and warblers: Hume’s, Alpine Leaf and Sichuan Leaf Warblers. We pass a mosque in one town reflecting our western location, historically influenced by Islam from Asia:

Over a lunchtime bowl of noodles, we were approached by this shifty looking group of men:

They secretively unfurled a bag of caterpillar fungus, visible in the carrier bag on the table in the picture above. This traditional Chinese remedy consists of a fungus whose spores kill the caterpillars of the Ghost Moth. The fungus then grows a fruiting body, a kind of tuber, from the caterpillar corpse, which itself goes on to produce more spores. It is this fruiting body which is used to “treat” ailments affecting the lungs, kidneys and for helping reduce erectile dysfunction. As Roland, Ian and I were drinking and breathing perfectly normally, I can only assume that the herb dealers thought that we looked like we required help in another department.

Caterpillar fungus is the second most expensive Chinese medicinal product after rhino horn. Had the herb dealers been offering us rhino horn, I am not sure that I would have been able to control myself. It is exactly these completely misplaced beliefs that power the poaching industry in Africa that has decimated the Rhino population. The influence of the behaviour of a country with 1.4 billion people stretches a long way. And there is a lot of blood on their hands:

By late afternoon we are on the edge of the forests that cover the valleys of this part of south-west China. We are here for another crack at Sichuan Wood Owl, following our failure at Baxi. Frustratingly we fail again. However, the steeply wooded valleys hold some pretty good birds. Singing male Himalayan Bluetail – surely the best looking member of the world’s Red-flanked Bluetail family?

Grey-headed Bullfinches are always good to see:

A (as yet unidentified) Pika rushed out onto the path in front of me. Perfect owl food: 

We ended the day in glorious sunshine in the fabulous scenery around the Jiuzhaigou National Park:

The forests held Claudia’s Leaf Warblers, our first Chinese Nuthatches and Oriental Turtle Doves. On the ground we found this lovely Chestnut Thrush:

We then drove into hell. The contrast between the lush green forests surrounding Pengfeng village and the straight-out-of-Vegas plastic fantastic tourist hell was almost physically overwhelming. The town acts as the accommodation hub for the thousands of daily visitors to the national park. We were completely unprepared for a 10km long strip of neon, hotels, bars, restaurants and tourists:

We were here for one reason and one reason only. To hear, and hopefully see, Rufous-headed Robin. This bird was the final piece in our rare Robin jigsaw. Having succeeded with Blackthroat and Firethroat on our first day we would need some serious luck to complete the rare Robin trilogy. Rufous-headed Robin is one of the world’s rarest birds. Juveniles are completely unknown and undescribed, females are virtually never seen and there is only one record of a female being photographed. In only one area on Earth tiny numbers of singing males can be found in spring:  here in Jiuzhaigou National Park. Last year one male was heard on one day. Tomorrow we would find out if 2016 would be our lucky year.

Next: Jiuzhaigou National Park, the search begins…