Synchronicity is played out in nature time and time again. Being in the right place at the right time, or, being in the wrong place at the wrong time, a series of coincidences leading to some meaningful outcome.
Then, enter the human: you, a non-actor in whatever thatâs happening, yet a crucial influence in far too many others. To chance upon any one such event in the making is more than just a reflection of your âgood luckâ; the privilege to observe inspires a sense of unity with that precious and special natural world. It is refreshing to feel that you are not inhabiting human society, for a while.
Sungei Buloh yesterday was probably all I needed to recharge and recuperate from the previous weeks, and to prepare for whatâs ahead. The day started off wonderfully, warm sun appearing after the rain, and an ad-hoc and extremely brief guided walk (literally just a few steps) and introduction to Buloh for a couple of visitors from Hong Kong. I also shared some locality highlights with a family who was bringing their seven-year-old son on his first visit to the mangroves.
Following a tip-off by Dr Chua regarding the sighting of a dead otter, we made our way towards the high-pitched barking that came from neither man nor bird, and then saw the family of smooth otters, to our left, on a mudflat not too far away, playfully sliding down the banks and splashing in the waters. Then we saw the carcass - loosely wedged between some rocks on the opposite side of the path, the subject of attention of visitors and one big monitor lizard. It was still largely intact, but thoroughly naked, the fur having disintegrated, leaving behind a shimmering, smooth and pale skin. The monitor stood possessively over the body, then attempted to rip a piece of the flesh near the pelvis. Budak called Otterman to ask if RMBR would be interested in its remains, while I requested for some assistance from the Reserve to help us secure the carcass.
After the dead otter was dealt with rather uneventfully - the monitor let out a loud disgruntled hiss as its meal was snatched away - we continued watching the otters. At one point, they climbed up onto the bund we were on, and one after another (there were seven of them), sprainted on a designated spot near the some vegetation less than 10 metres from where we were. Some started grooming themselves. Squatting to stay level with their noses and inching in slowly and respectfully, we squeezed our shutters and fired away. They were hardly bothered by our presence after ascertaining that we posed no threat. Those few moments into their private world were captivating.
Later that afternoon, we also managed to see three crocodiles - two from the Main Bridge, and the third and the largest passed right under our feet at a sluice gate at Route 3.
It wasnât all fine and dandy though. The many dead milkfish that we saw scattered around the Reserve (some were left hanging on branches by the outgoing tide!) hinted at darker themes. Subaraj, whom we bumped into, was just as concerned. We hope it isnât contamination, or some thoughtless and inconsiderate act of the upstream fish farmers releasing their diseased stocks. Was the dead otter we saw an early victim? Consequences of tiny actions can be tragic and severe, for ecological processes are impartial.
Water monitor feeding on otter carcass
Dead milkfish
Smooth otters on bank
Smooth otter sprainting
More smooth otter sprainting
Estuarine crocodile
Pacific golden plovers
What a nice day to mark the 10th anniversary since I started volunteering with the Reserve. More photos from the day on Flickr.