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TANGENTS

Kalenga Again

BYIHTISHAM KABIR
On this clear and cool February morning, I am in Kalenga forest once again after a long absence. Part of the Rema-Kalenga Wildlife Sanctuary in Habiganj, this is one of the few forests in Bangladesh that still has old-growth forest - that is, the trees of this forest were not planted by man, they comprise the original forest. My usual guide at this forest, Abdur Rahim, accompanies me. The sanctuary has hiking trails of one-, two- and three-hour length. We embark on the longest.
My intent is to look for forest birds. Those familiar with birds and their habitats know that forest birds are more colourful than birds of field or water. They are that much more difficult to photograph because the branches and leaves come between the camera and the bird. Hidden among leaves and foliage, they are also harder to spot - and that's where Rahim's superb spotting skills come in.
From the entrance, we walk for about 200 metres before making a left turn. Massive trees, majestic and ancient, greet us. These are the original inhabitants of the hills of Sylhet: chapalish, several types of bot, ashar, jongli jolpai among others - and I realize quickly that even if I do not see or photograph a single bird here today I will leave a happy man.
For a while the trail runs along paddy fields on one side before we are inside the jungle. Orchids hang from many large trees, and flittering in them smaller birds such as the diminutive scarlet-backed flowerpecker, a sparkling red band of scarlet running along its black back. There are bigger birds here, too, but they are harder to find. A massive tree looks familiar but its scale is all wrong. After some staring, I realise it is a chhatim tree, so common in our
villages and country side. There is one difference however. This ancient chhatim is at least five times larger than the ones I see elsewhere.
But birds are not the only critters. I see several types of monkeys: capped langur, phayre's langur and the ubiquitous rhesus macaque. A large black squirrel - the Malayan giant squirrel - is sitting on a branch, contemplating, its long bushy tail hanging down. It seems asleep, but at my approach it comes alive and disappears in leaps and bounds - but not before I get a few photographs. A skink - a flatter, silkier version of the garden lizard - scurries along the bank of a small stream. And Rahim ends up with a leech on his foot. When he detaches it, I see that it is striped, different from the normal black ones.
We search without luck for a redheaded trogon, one of the most colourful birds of our forests. However, we are rewarded with views of other colourful denizens of the forest, including rosy minivets, yellow naped woodpeckers and a blue-bearded beeeater. Close to the end of our hike, as we approach a small bridge over a stream, I am delighted to find an emerald dove. They avoid people and fly swiftly; the last time I photographed one was years ago. Finally, on a bush near the exit, a tiny pale-billed flowerpecker, at three inches the smallest of our birds, poses momentarily for my camera.
Due to a broken stretch of road, Kalenga is a difficult destination compared to, say, Satchori or Lawachera National Parks. But for me, visiting it is like a dream that replays for days afterward.
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