There are two things to know about working with large hornbills, says Rohit Naniwadekar. First, never let their beaks get close to your face or they can gouge your eyes. Second, don’t let them grab your fingers because they can break them. Their enormous bills capable of delicately picking ripe fruits can also apply devastating pressure.
Catching hornbills to strap GPS transmitters onto them for his research was a nerve-wracking experience, says Naniwadekar. The team rigged two nets between fig trees about 25 metres off the ground and 100 metres apart in Pakke Tiger Reserve, Arunachal Pradesh. The operation had to be conducted at 3 a.m. before the sharp-eyed birds arrived to feed at first light while also being watchful of elephants. If the hornbills saw people, they wouldn’t come close. The researchers also had to make sure the nets weren’t visible since the wary birds would then avoid approaching that side of the tree. Then everyone took their places. Naniwadekar and assistant Tali hid under bushes below one of the fig trees while three other team members retreated to the vehicle to wait for the signal that a bird had been caught.
Endless wait
The interminable wait began. They had been trying to net these birds for five months, and the assistants expected that day to be a failure like the others. Tali removed his shoes, made himself comfortable, and fell asleep. The rest of the team waiting in the vehicle dozed too. Naniwadekar wondered if his luck would change that day.
When the sun rose, birds arrived in flocks to feast on the figs. Seven hours after setting up the nets, an incautious hill myna got caught and raised a racket in its panic. A curious great hornbill landed on a branch nearby to see why the small bird was crying. Spotting an opportunity, Naniwadekar shook Tali awake and instructed him to scare the bird into the net. The barefoot assistant stumbled out of their hiding spot and shouted. The hornbill cocked its head to one side and watched the human. Instead of flying into the net, it flew in the opposite direction, still keeping an eye on Tali. It blundered into the second net and was trapped. The hill myna escaped in the meantime.
The assistants quickly lowered the hornbill, which tried to snap at the researchers within reach. Unable to approach, Naniwadekar took off his t-shirt and covered its head before grasping the four-kilogram bird.
The researcher made the cardinal mistake of loosening his grip, and the bird seized his hand.
“I felt its strength,” he says. “It could have broken my fingers.”
Fortunately, the hornbill didn’t clamp down hard enough to hurt. But Naniwadekar couldn’t yank his hand either, since the bird would tighten its hold. So he waited patiently until it became distracted and eased its grip. Only then did the researcher free himself.
A second net
To catch more birds, Naniwadekar incorporated the strategy of setting up a second net where great hornbills least expect it. Despite the lengths he went to conceal himself and his team, he had a hard time getting another species, the wreathed hornbill. Since these smaller birds frequented fruiting trees outside the sanctuary, they were attuned to the ways of humans and wary of their presence.
“They are much smarter than great hornbills,” says Naniwadekar. “At the slightest hint of something being off, they won’t come. One brushed against the net but didn’t get trapped.”
Eventually, the team caught two wreathed hornbills.
But the researcher still hadn’t learned how to keep his fingers away from the birds’ beak.
“My hands were held by three species of hornbills: the great, wreathed, and oriental pied hornbills,” he lists.
At least he escaped with his fingers intact.
Janaki Lenin is not a conservationista but many creatures share her home for reasons she is yet to discover.
