Tangkoko National Park

Our destination, Renny’s Bird House Homestay, lay in the outskirts of the village of Batu Putih. The village and its black-sand beaches embrace the Tangkoko National Park from its northwest to northeast reaches. Renny’s place was set about two kilometres back from the town. Once we tracked down Lea, Renny’s ebullient daughter, we were guided to the homestay itself. We were greeted in what we would come to appreciate as the typical Sulawesian greeting – incomparably generous hospitality and an impossibly sugary drink. After fighting our way through a few millilitres of the ‘orange juice’ we were introduced to the family. It should be noted that family membership was somewhat ambiguous and flexible, so I think we can be forgiven for failing to identify roles and responsibilities. Although there did appear to be a patriarch, whose sole role and responsibility was to whistle the same tune, on loop, morning, afternoon and night…but we had the key players nailed down. All that mattered to us was the following: Lea was the powerhouse, the engine-room; Renny was the boss, and Iwan (Lea’s ‘uncle’) was the birdman, the undisputed expert on all Sulawesian things feathered. World-class. JM and Iwan spent hours pointing into canopies, whistling birdcalls and looking up guides and encyclopaediae. Was a joy to behold, and we’d barely arrived.

With tomorrow being the big day of exploring Tangkoko, we thought a quick cruise to the village might be fun, so Lea ferried us down the road some way before it became evident that there was a very flat tyre on her car. Lea was mortified as we clicked into gear and set about helping change, but before too long she was in amongst it all, pretty pleased to have not called on her brother for assistance. The town seemed nice enough, but the beach was the highlight. The sand – iron black, not dirty black – was stunning. The seascape dotted with curiously dystopian constructions of bamboo, string and tarpaulin – fishing platforms whose nighttime illuminations attract sweet prey.

After a long, long stroll, we met up with Lea at Renny’s house, and went back to the homestay, for dinner. The next morning we were up very early – 5:30 – to meet the famous Renny and head to Tangkoko to see…who knows? The expectation is surely to see Tarsiers, Black Macaques and the Knobbed Hornbill, but of course, this is the wild, not a zoo, so expectations should be tempered, yes?

Renny seemed fairly set on seeing a Cuscus, craning her neck skywards while somehow navigating the jungle path through secondary, then primary forests of palms, ficus and ebony trees and an unceasing tangle of branches, vines and tendrils inbetween.

A cacaphonic orchestra of cicadas kept us company throughout, with guest appearances by lizards, snakes, bats and squirrels. Before too long she was pointing to way, way up in treetops, where a furry mass was draped over a ficus branch. The snoozy old cuscus gawped back at us, couldn’t be more nonplussed if it tried. With the cuscus ‘ticked off’ it was on to the hornbill, but a constant eye and ear was kept on the mobile phone. Renny was checking in on her network of rangers to see if there had been any monkey sightings. Nothing. All ok by us, but Renny wasn’t going to let up.

So we traipsed along, JM, AW, Deborah from Barcelona (who was also at the homestay) and Renny, looking for macaques, but generally just having a great time. But oh, then we stopped…a surprise Tarsier sighting! The weirdest, cutest, most improbable little things you can imagine. Barely the size of a rat, but with strange little gremlin-y features, there were three nestled in the hollow of a tree, about three metres from the ground. One particularly endearing little chap sat stoically with fingers laced, all goggle-eyed and fur-cowled; a little madcap magistrate reviewing our movements, assessing our risk to Tarsier society – clearly concluding that all was well and we may proceed, onwards, thank you.A little further ahead, was a clearing, where a half-dozen or so travellers had gathered to catch sight of the Knobbed Hornbill. While immediately recognisable for its spectacular, but rather extreme features (read, bill), the first indication that one is in the vicinity is the disproportionately mighty whomp-whomp-whomp its wings make in flight. And so, before too long, there it was – whomp-whomp-whomp. Settling on a branch to survey the terrain, the male Knobbed Hornbill is indeed a sight. Within a few minutes, it bounded over to a nearby hollow, where Ms Hornbill lay, nurturing or nesting the young. Mr Hornbill proceeded to regurgitate fruit from its curious little neck pouch, husking it dextrously with its ungainly beak, then handing (beaking?) it over to Ms Hornbill for lunch. Really amazing, and so thankful for JM’s binoculars! JM offered the binoculars to Deborah for a look, as she was having some trouble seeing the action from afar. Binoculars do take a while to get the knack of, and JM worked with Deborah to align eyes to lenses just so…it took a while, but it resulted in one of the loveliest moments. When everything aligned, and Deborah locked eyes on the Hornbill, she gave out a little shriek of delight, smiled the biggest smile, and on handing the binoculars back, wipes away tears of pure joy. A beautiful moment with a beautiful person (we love you Deborah 😊).

Renny had word of the macaques. Ok, back towards the entrance we went, via a couple of (slightly) more active cuscus families. Late morning is nap time for macaques, or so it seemed on arrival. Like a pack of drunken oafs (oaves?), strewn across the forest floor, legs and arms askew, calloused pink arses here and there, some grooming, an errant erection thrown in for good measure…it was like a scene from an end-of-season football club outing. But genuinely entertaining, and much, much cuter. So we ended up back in the car park, and went back to the homestay for lunch and a rest before heading out again at 4:00 for the dusk/evening trek. Not so much to report on from here; the evening session felt a little more zoo-like and staged, with the poor little tarsiers very much centre-stage. We did manage to see the macaques again, too, and they were a little more active (not hard), but all-in-all it wasn’t the thrill of the morning, which felt a lot more intimate. We did get up close and personal with a cuscus making a rare foray out of the canopy – something even Renny noted as very special.