Today is the day it will finally happen. I saw one when I lived in Singapore—it was right in front of my apartment—however, due to the cultural significance of the bird in Sarawak, I wanted to see another one here.
The Rhinoceros Hornbill, also known as the Kenyalang, is the official state bird of Sarawak. In fact, Sarawak is known as the Land of the Hornbills. Since my primary school days, I have always been mesmerized by this bird.
It rained heavily during the night, and I was scared it would continue into the morning. When I wake up, I noticed the rain has stopped. I have a quick breakfast around 7:00, and the sun starts to peek through the clouds. I decide to visit the Piasau Nature Reserve (PNR), which is about 20 minutes from my hotel. It also gives me the opportunity to see more of Miri.
The PNR is a conservation area that used to be a residential area for workers in the oil industry. When I leave the hotel to walk toward my Grab car, I notice the aftermath of a stormy night. It is cool and the air is grey. I’m a little skeptical about continuing the trip, as there might be leeches in the forest. Leeches are especially active on hiking trails after rain. Since I’m only here for a few days, I decide to still go.
The drive is smooth, and soon we leave town. I see small factories and a more industrial area beside the river. We cross the river and arrive at the reserve. It took the driver a couple of seconds to figure out where he should drop me off, as there was no one else around. He drops me near the guardhouse, and I start walking toward the PNR building. It wasn’t even 9:00 AM. I register at the visitation center, which is at the back—turning out to be the actual visitor entrance—and then walk back to the interpretation center to learn more about the biodiversity of the reserve and the different kinds of hornbills.
I don’t see any other visitors, only the rangers who work in the reserve.
I leave the building and walk toward the trees. The sky is still grey, wet leaves stick to the asphalt, and a soft breeze makes the grass dance. I’m wearing shorts, so I’m hesitant to go into the secluded areas where plants and trees cross over the paths as if they are hugging each other. I see a board saying, “Caution: Watch out for snakes,” and I feel anxiety flowing through my body. I read online that most people see snakes here, but no hornbills.
I decide to head back where I came from and turn into a different alley where a sign points me toward the hornbill breeding spot. I turn right and it starts to drizzle. I’m still all alone, surrounded by the sound of birds that seem to be talking to each other. I wonder what they are saying and hope they don’t mind me being here. I walk carefully toward the breeding spot, checking the asphalt for leeches and snakes.
And then..