![]() By the sound of it, this one is only a few trees away. Hoo-hoo-hoo, Hahahaha! It’s the maniacal laughter of a helmeted hornbill. My reverie is broken by a rush of air overhead- Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh! The gaps between feathers in their wings make hornbills some of the noisiest fliers around. Watch for more stories, books, and events throughout the year. National Geographic is partnering with the National Audubon Society, BirdLife International, and the Cornell Lab of Ornithology to celebrate the centennial of the Migratory Bird Treaty Act. I’m not a bird-watcher, but this must be bird-watching at its most dedicated. The sun’s still making its way upward, but already the humidity has wrapped me in a wet, clinging hug. We stare at each other for a while before it jumps at my face-a narrow miss. At one point a spider the size of my thumbnail drops down in front of me, clinging to its line of silk. Hours tick by as we wait, occasionally whispering but mostly daydreaming away the giant forest ants (up to an inch long with intimidating but, I was assured, harmless pincers), those resolute leeches, and the unforgiving plywood we’ve turned into a bench. From our spot on the ground we can’t see in, but we know it’s only a matter of time before papa hornbill swoops in to deliver a meal. Jutting from its side a little more than halfway up is a gnarled cavity in which a female hornbill had sealed herself a few months earlier to lay an egg. The tree is a dipterocarp, a tropical hardwood, maybe 180 feet tall, that towers above most others in the forest. ![]() When we finally reach the tree we’ve been aiming for, we hole up in a blind about 130 feet away made of camouflage fabric and bunches of branches. We knew it would be a slog-these birds are shy to begin with, but the growing rate of decline makes finding them something of an odyssey. Photographer Tim Laman is with us, as are a videographer, several members of Pilai’s team, and some people from the village at the bottom of the mountain who are carrying supplies and will help set up our camp. The leader of our group is Pilai Poonswad, a Thai scientist known as the “great mother of hornbills.” She’s been studying the birds, and working to protect them, since 1978. The bird my fellow trekkers and I are after is the ancient, bizarre-looking, and now increasingly rare helmeted hornbill. Insects buzz in nose and ears, and if you stop long enough to look around, you’ll see an army of land leeches inching their wormy, blood-hungry little bodies toward you. ![]() With each step on the rain-drenched ground, you risk sliding back down. The terrain in Budo-Su-ngai Padi National Park in southern Thailand is so steep in places that you can reach out and touch the path in front of you. ![]() I have come to this steaming forest to find a bird. This article was produced in collaboration with the Cornell Lab of Ornithology and is part of a multimedia effort to raise international awareness about the plight of the helmeted hornbill. This story appears in the September 2018 issue of National Geographic magazine. ![]()
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